The mountain winds swept softly through the ancient temple grounds, stirring fallen leaves and the scent of old incense. The sun had only begun to rise over the stone steps of Zhaoyan Temple, casting long shadows across the courtyard where the group was supposed to be preparing to leave.
Instead, chaos bloomed like weeds.
"You two again?!" Shion's sharp voice cracked through the air.
He stood, arms crossed, glaring at the twins who were now wrestling in the dirt near the offering platform one pulling the other's braid while the other tried to bite his shoulder.
"We're literally leaving in five minutes and you're brawling like market dogs! Do you want to delay the entire group again?"
"He started it!" Seiya barked, pointing an accusing finger at his twin.
"I did not!" Seirou shot back, twisting his fingers in frustration. "He said my braid looks like a dog's tail!"
"Well, it does!" Seiya smirked.
Shion exhaled a long, suffering breath and dragged a hand down his face. "Idiots. Absolute, certified idiots."
Just then, Astra suddenly halted mid-step, her face lighting with realization.
"Wait!"
Everyone turned, mid-motion.
Astra turned around, lifting her hand. "We stayed here all night. It wouldn't feel right to leave without offering something. Or a prayer, at least."
Shion looked momentarily surprised, then shrugged.
"A prayer's good luck," Seirou added softly, adjusting his robes.
But Astra wasn't waiting for permission. She was already rummaging through a rolled cloth bundle clearly not hers, tied to Seiya's pack.
"Hey—wait! That's mine!" Seiya cried, as she triumphantly pulled out a neatly wrapped rice ball.
"Not anymore," Astra replied flatly, not even sparing him a glance.
"That was supposed to be my breakfast offering to myself!"
"You can offer your hunger instead," she quipped, striding toward the altar with the stolen snack held high like a sacred tribute.
Behind her, Ryoma didn't move. Kaen glanced his way again, hesitant. Still no eye contact. Just the cold wind between them.
The temple bells chimed faintly in the distance.
Astra stepped lightly across the stone floor of the Zhaoyan Temple, the quiet echo of her footsteps drowned only by the faint whisper of wind through the open archways. She approached the old altar, its surface worn and speckled with time, where faded murals of cloud-draped mountains and celestial beasts framed a small, weathered idol.
She knelt and placed the rice ball reverently near the offering dish, muttering something between sincerity and sass.
"May your blessings be as filling as this rice ball."
Just as she leaned forward to adjust it—
Clang.
Something struck her head—small, but with surprising force.
"Ah—!" she winced, flinching. Her hand flew to the spot, eyes narrowing. She looked up at the rafters. Nothing.
She turned, scanning the floor and spotted something rolled beneath the altar table. Crawling down, she found a small bronze ceiling bell, its hinge rusted through. But that wasn't all.
Half-buried in the dust beside it was something long and thin—a scroll, bound in black twine and brittle with age.
Astra's breath caught.
She reached for it, the paper crinkling beneath her fingers. She blew gently on the surface, sending centuries of dust scattering into the golden morning light. The seal was faded, the script unknown, ink barely clinging to parchment. Her fingers itched to open it.
She slowly began to unroll the top—
"Are you done offering or planning to move in?!" Shion's voice rang from outside.
Startled, Astra scrambled upright, rolling the scroll up clumsily.
"Coming!" she called back, tucking the scroll deep into her sleeve, heart thudding.
She cast one last glance at the altar—at the old idol, the broken bell, the silence.
Then she turned and ran out, the secret weight of the scroll now pressing against her arm like a hidden pulse.
——————
The morning air hung cool and damp over the outskirts of the southern watchpost, where the grass still clung to dew and the dirt paths wound lazily past old pavilions and guard huts. Birds chirped high in the trees, and smoke curled from a nearby tea kettle left on the stone hearth by a dozing sentry.
Daita stood absolutely still, arms crossed, eyes locked on the tall figure in front of him.
Akira, awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, offering a crooked, sheepish smile that only seemed to fuel Daita's glare further.
"…Morning?" Akira tried.
Daita's eye twitched.
Then, without a word, he spun on his heel and started walking in the opposite direction, muttering under his breath, "Unbelievable."
Commander Zhou, who had been quietly standing by, gave a short bow to the prince and said under his breath, "Seventh Prince appears quite frustrated, Your Highness."
Akira sighed and nodded. "Mm. That's fair."
He jogged after Daita, nearly stumbling over a rock embedded in the path. "Daita! Wait, don't be like this, I have a reason for disappearing again! I can explain!"
Daita didn't stop. His boots struck the dirt hard as he marched forward, voice rising with every word. "Really? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you vanished again for three days—without a word, during a demon outbreak! You abandoned your mission, left me to deal with the mess, while His Majesty sent message after message demanding reports!"
He threw a sharp look over his shoulder. Akira opened his mouth to respond, but Daita cut him off.
"And I had to lie. Again!" Daita spun to face him fully, eyes flashing. "Do you even understand how furious the Emperor is right now? You're lucky he doesn't know you used the chaos as cover to sneak off like you were eloping with some girl!"
Akira lowered his head muttering something under his breath which Daita couldn't hear "You—!" Daita jabbed a finger at Akira, nearly losing his composure again. "I've risked my life covering for you! I lied to General Han Shenyang twice!"
He suddenly leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper.
"I even had to deal with the spy His Majesty sent to monitor you… just so you wouldn't get struck by lightning again."
"There was a spy?"
Daita didn't answer immediately. He casually tilted his head, then he subtly pointed toward a tea kettle resting on a low stone wall nearby. "She's watching us even now. Don't look obvious. And it's none other than… Yu Feilan. The Whispering Hawk of the Eastern Court."
Akira nearly yelped, hastily lowering his raised finger. "Daita! She's too good at staying hidden. How did you even notice her?"
Daita smirked smugly. "I have eagle eyes. Not even an ant slips past me."
Akira sighed heavily, muttering under his breath, "Right. Understood. He used that silver-tongued charm again. Just how many fake promises do you make, Daita?"
Without looking back, Daita called over his shoulder, "Promises are like clouds… soft, pretty, and always changing shape when the wind blows. And about fake promises?" Daita grinned, not slowing down.
"They're like silk words to a lonely noblewoman, effective, fleeting, and and never meant to survive the sunrise."
Akira sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "Unbelievable…" Then he muttered under his breath, almost to himself, "One day, he's going to charm the wrong woman… and wake up engaged. Or stabbed."