The preparations continued in a somber mood. It didn’t take long to prepare, but they had to give Meize time to recover. Eventually he found his feet and was able to use his right fist with ease. Nothing attacked them during this time, lending weight to the idea that this may be their last fight. Sunfa remained non-responsive, and the group decided to leave her upstairs. She wasn’t a danger at least.

Standing outside of the house, they look at each other, their faces partially illuminated by the clear moon. Anastasia and Ambrose each hold their weapons tight, while Bunny leans on her staff. The flicker of stars atop it almost appears dream-like in the circumstances. They each held a torch on their waists, with everyone except Meize wielding another in their hand.

“Let’s begin.” Ambrose breathes. Bunny holds her torch close to the ground, and Ambrose strikes the flint against its steel counterpart. Tiny sparks flick off into the night, each strike getting a few more before finally the tiniest ember lights up the torch. It races across the remaining tinder and soon the torch is blazing, lighting up the world around them.

Bunny raises her torch and lights up the other two, creating a beacon of flame amidst the darkness. They look around themselves warily, but find nothing in sight, instead turning their sight to the shrine across from them. It stands tall, its door shut tight. The taste of smoke digs into them as they stare at it.

Anastasia turns her eyes back to her torch, its warmth driving away some of the residual cold. Temperature doesn’t affect her the way it used to, but there is something in its comfort that is irreplaceable.

After a second she puts her weapon down and grabs her glass tube, downing its contents. The group looks at her as she squirms, waiting for it to take effect. After a minute her eyes light up.

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“Lucky!” She exclaims, to their confusion. “Look.” She says excitedly, and brushes her hand across the torch. The flame flickers, flowing along her hand as she does. She draws it up into a small swirl of flame, before it seems to give and falls back onto the torch like it never happened.

“You seem to get lucky often.” Meize muses.

“I guess.” Anastasia smiles sheepishly. The moment passes, and the solemn atmosphere pressed back into them.

“Here.” Ambrose says, giving her the flint and steel. Anastasia nods and fastens it to her waist. Ambrose looks at each of them one last time, a flicker of many emotions passing across her face. “Ready?”

“Of course.” Anastasia says grimly.

“There’s no other choice, is there.” Meize sighs. “Yes.”

“Always.” Bunny says, a little more chipper. “We’re nearly there.”

“Ready.” Ambrose says firmly, and faces forward. As she passes Meize, she clasps his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” He looks at her confused. She stares at his eyes quietly for a moment, before turning to his wounds.

“It’s okay.” Meize says, understanding. “As I said, this is all so we can survive. I did what I had to.”

“I know.” Ambrose answers, looking briefly at Anastasia before closing her eyes for a moment. “We all are.” Ambrose snaps her eyes open and starts walking, the others walking with her should-to-shoulder. Their torches blaze across the night as they tread the dirt road, and soon they find themselves staring up at the shrine. Its short, winding path leads to its tightly shut door, the crackling of their torches filling the silence.

Ambrose takes the first step and walks up to the door. Taking a heavy breath she pushes forward. The door holds for a moment, before giving after a heavier push and swinging wide open with a loud creak. The looming darkness greets them as they peer inside.

Ambrose waves her torch in front of it, revealing the empty area around them, before stepping forward. The other three step in after her, and all four torches create a small bastion of light around them. But the shadows here almost seem alive, resisting the light as they stretch and wind around them. Anastasia feels suffocated as she looks around, her grip tightening on her torch.

“Stay together.” Ambrose says, raising her torch high. The darkness gives a little, a snuffed-out brazier entering her vision. “This is where the hunt begins.”