Chapter 33: The Ghost Hotel

It is eerie, but it serves our needs. We split up to search for supplies, keeping within shouting distance. Hitane finds a linen closet on the second floor that has remained miraculously dry. It is full of moth-eaten but thick wool blankets and futons that smell of cedar balls. I find a kitchen in the back. I turn the knob on the industrial gas stove, holding my breath. There is a hiss, faint but steady. I strike a match found in a drawer, and a blue ring of fire blooms. We have heat.

Minaki starts a fire in the main hearth of the lobby, using broken legs from rotted chairs for kindling. The flames lick at the dry wood, casting long, dancing shadows against the peeling wallpaper that depicts a faded mountain scene.

We huddle around the fire, wrapped in the wool blankets like cocoons. We look like refugees because we are refugees. The warmth begins to thaw the ice in my bones, but it cannot touch the cold knot of grief in my chest.

"I cannot stop thinking about her," Minaki says softly, her eyes fixed on the flames. "The Weaver. She died for us. She did not even know us."

"She knew what we represent," Hitane says, sitting cross-legged with the map spread out before her. "She chose her end, Minaki. She lived a thousand years in a single lifetime. She was tired of watching the clock."

"But she smiled," Minaki insists, her voice trembling. "Before she shattered into dust, she smiled."

"Because she saw hope," I say, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders. "She saw us escape. She knew her sacrifice meant something. She knew we would not waste it."

Hitane smooths out the map. It is wet and tearing at the creases, fragile like everything else in our lives. She points to a blank area surrounded by contour lines.

"We are here," she says. "The mountains of Nagano. The Cleaners are searching for us in Kyoto right now. They will scour the Weaver is house. They will try to track the residual energy of the vortex."

"Can they track it?" I ask, leaning forward to see the map.

"Eventually," Hitane admits, her face grim in the firelight. "A tear in reality leaves a scar. It gives off specific radiation. They will find the exit point. But it will take them time to triangulate it through the interference. The blind spot interferes with their sensors. We have maybe three days. Four if we are extremely lucky."

"Three days," I repeat, the weight of the deadline settling on me. "To do what?"

"To learn how to use this," Hitane says. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the Resonance Amplifier. She sets it on the floor between us.

I pick it up. It is heavier than it looks, made of brass and a crystal I do not recognize. The three rings rotate independently, sliding against each other with smooth precision. There are inscriptions on the metal, tiny symbols that look like mathematical equations but feel like magic runes.

"How does it work?" Minaki asks, extending a hand to hover over it but not touching it.

"The Weaver said we have to weave our gifts," I recall. "Not just use them side by side. We have to combine them into a single strand."

Hitane nods. "The Anchor stabilizes. The Mind directs. The Heart powers. We have been doing it instinctively in moments of crisis. But this device is a lens. It focuses the resonance so we do not burn ourselves out."

She looks at me, her dark eyes reflecting the fire. "When you opened the vortex, Juiro, what did you feel?"

I close my eyes, remembering the sensation of the tear. "I felt you," I say slowly. "I felt your calculation. I felt you searching for the coordinates in the chaos. And I felt Minaki. I felt her fear, but also her overwhelming desire to escape. It was like fuel. It was like gasoline poured on a fire."

"Exactly," Hitane says. "You used Minaki as a battery and me as a GPS. And you were the engine that drove the car."

"That sounds parasitic," Minaki frowns, pulling her knees to her chest.

"It is symbiotic," Hitane corrects. "We need to learn to do it consciously. We need to learn to braid the threads without burning out the conduit. If Juiro pulls too hard without your support, he breaks. If you push too hard without his anchor, you burn out."

I look at the device. I can feel a faint hum coming from it now that we are all sitting near it. It reacts to our proximity. It wants to be used.

"We start tomorrow," I say, placing the device back on the floor. "We rest tonight. We heal. And tomorrow, we figure out how to become the weapon the Weaver wanted us to be."

Minaki leans her head on my shoulder. She is warm now, her shivering finally gone. "I am tired of running, Juiro. I am tired of being afraid."

"I know," I say, resting my cheek on the top of her white hair. "I am too."

We sleep in a pile of blankets in front of the fire, the Triad huddled together against the cold and the dark. The ghost hotel creaks around us, settling into the snow, guarding our sleep for one more night. For the first time in weeks, I do not dream of falling. I dream of standing firm.