Chapter 32: The White Silence

I hit a bank of deep, powdery snow with bone-jarring impact. The cold is immediate and shocking, a stark, violent contrast to the heat of the Weaver is burning house. I tumble, limbs flailing in the white powder, until I come to a stop at the base of a towering pine tree.

I gasp, inhaling air that is thin and biting. I sit up, frantically wiping snow from my face and eyes. My hands are numb within seconds. My breath comes in ragged white clouds that dissipate instantly in the freezing air.

"Hitane? Minaki?" I call out, my voice sounding small and swallowed by the vastness of the mountains.

I scramble to my feet, scanning the white landscape. We are in the mountains, high up where the air is thin. The trees are heavy with snow, their branches bowing under the weight, and the sky is a flat, slate gray. It is snowing lightly, big, silent flakes drifting down in an utter silence that feels heavy.

I see a splash of color against the white monochrome. Minaki is lying in a drift a few yards away. I run to her, my boots sinking deep. She is shivering, her teeth chattering violently. Her thin dress, suitable for the climate of the coast, is soaked and freezing against her skin.

"Minaki," I say, pulling her up into a sitting position. "You are freezing."

"I am cold," she stammers, her lips turning a frightening shade of blue. "It is so cold, Juiro. I cannot feel my fingers."

"Where is Hitane?" I ask, panic rising in my chest.

We look around desperately. A moment later, Hitane emerges from behind a snow-covered boulder. She is limping slightly, clutching her side, but her eyes are sharp and alert, scanning the perimeter for threats.

"We made it," she says, her voice breathless but steady. "This is Nagano. The blind spot."

I look around, trying to get my bearings. It feels empty here. Not just devoid of people, but devoid of the static I usually feel humming beneath the surface of the world. My anchor usually digs into the bedrock of reality, finding purchase in the ley lines of space, but here, the ground feels slippery. It feels untethered, as if gravity is a suggestion rather than a law.

"It feels wrong," I say, shivering. "It feels like we are nowhere. It feels like the map stops here."

"That is the point," Hitane says, joining us and looking at the device in my hand, which is now dark and cold. "This area has a high level of natural temporal interference. The Cleaners cannot scan it. Their sensors just see white noise. We are invisible here."

"But we are also freezing," I point out, rubbing Minaki is arms briskly. "We need shelter. Immediately. Minaki cannot survive this for long."

Hitane nods, her face grim. She points down the slope through the dense trees. "There is a structure. About a mile down. I saw it as we fell through the sky."

We start walking. The snow is deep, coming up to our knees with every step. It is grueling work. I take the lead, breaking the trail. As I walk, I try something new. I focus on my anchor. Instead of locking myself in place, I visualize a path of solid concrete beneath the powder. I push my will into the snow. Be solid.

It is exhausting, draining my already depleted reserves, but it works. The snow packs down hard under my boots, creating a walkable surface for the girls.

Minaki clings to my arm, her weight heavy against me. I can feel her body heat fading, her shivering becoming less violent, which is a bad sign. She is not built for this harshness. She is the Heart, warm and vibrant. This cold is antithetical to her existence.

"Hold on," I tell her, squeezing her hand. "Just a little further. Stay with me, Minaki."

We trudge through the silent forest. The only sound is the crunch of our footsteps and the wind sighing mournfully in the branches. It is a lonely sound, the sound of a world that does not care if we live or die.

After an hour of walking, we see it through the trees. A building.

It is not a cabin. It looks like an old, abandoned onsen resort. A large, sprawling wooden structure with a tiled roof that has partially collapsed in places under the weight of years of snow. It sits in a valley, surrounded by steaming hot springs that melt the snow around them, sending pillars of white steam into the gray sky.

"It looks like a ghost," Minaki whispers, her voice barely audible.

"It is shelter," Hitane says, picking up her pace.

We approach the building. The windows are dark and boarded up with rotting wood. The sign over the gate hangs by a single rusted hinge, creaking in the wind. It speaks of a time when this place was full of laughter and warmth, now long gone.

I step onto the porch, the wood groaning under my weight, and try the heavy front door. It is locked.

I place my hand on the wood. I feel the space behind the lock, the rusted tumblers, the seized metal. I push my will into it. Open.

The mechanism clicks loudly. The door slides open with a groan of protest, rust grinding against rust.

We step inside. The air is stale and cold, smelling of old tatami, dust, and sulfur from the springs. But it is out of the wind.

"We are safe," I say, my voice echoing in the large, empty lobby.

"For now," Hitane adds, stepping in and closing the door behind us. She locks it again. "But the Weaver is dead. The Cleaners know we are fighting back. The war has started."

I look at the device in my hand. The Resonance Amplifier. It is dull now, its brass rings still, the crystal dark. But I can feel the potential in it. A heavy, sleeping weight that waits to be woken.

"We will be ready," I say, looking at my two sisters. "Next time, we will not run."