“Okay,” the man sighed, bringing their horse to a stop just by a rocky outcrop. “We should be here, Miss Kishiko.”

“Just beyond that outcrop?”

“More or less, yeah.”

The silence that resurfaced whenever the two of them stopped to pause was oppressive. So much so that it was like a thick blanket had descended upon the mountain path they rode upon, engulfing them and the blighted ruins they were headed towards in an uncomfortable, unyielding quiet.

“Also, haven't I told you to refer to me via my new name? Several times?”

“Kishiko’s just too cute not to say, you know?”

“Sure, Kinan,” she replied, placing a hefty emphasis on his name in turn.

“That wasn’t an insult!”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” she said. “Let’s just hurry up and get to the gates already. I’d rather not be anywhere near this place by the time night falls.”

The two of them then rode down the winding path that slithered its way down the mountain, slipping them off of the snow-covered Shafraturriyahn Peaks and down into the Manarat Basin. They watched as the landscape around them shifted as they descended further into the depression, turning from cold and rocky to grass-covered and shrubby and eventually into a lush, fertile valley. One that pooled together the meltwaters and glaciers and snowy run-offs of the entire northern half of the Shafraturriyahn Range into one gargantuan freshwater lake- so massive that from its waters it birthed the Silent River. The longest river on the continent, and one that carved an entire valley in its wake.

They saw too as the city of Manarat slowly came into view, the outcrops and peaks that stood in their way parting to present to them the twisted, rotten ruins of the once glorious city.

Amidst its immaculately constructed marble towers and open, sprawling plazas stood chaotic black trees- writhing and worming and tearing their way across the city’s landscape with their blighted forms. They broke through stone and wood and glass and curved into and out of buildings without so much as a care for the centuries of effort that had gone into building the city, collapsing its walls and forever devastating the area’s capacity to harbour any life.

Something she could confirm, feeling the complete absence of any spirits even all the way from where they rode.

“Goodness,” she whispered under her breath. “The whole place is just… deserted.”

Kinan nodded, not looking back.

“Same goes for all the other settlements within thirty kilometres of it,” he said. “Even the rivers and forests, too.”

“Yeah, but,” she started. “You would think that there would at least be some indication of life, like the spirits of the fallen, or something. Especially since the entire entourage of the first Spiritguide collapsed here.”

“What, you mean there aren’t any spirits... at all?” he asked, looking back at her. “Not even one?”

“No.”

The Basin wasn’t just devoid of any life. It was devoid of death, too. There was simply nothing.

All that remained were the frozen black thorns that ripped through the landscape.

Soon, the pair made it off of the mountain path, finding themselves level with the city gates not too far away. And though they intended on riding their horse into the city itself, the animal’s uncharacteristic protests and non-compliance eventually convinced them to leave it stationed where they were. So, they made the last bit of the trek on foot, drawing ever nearer to the crucible of disease that had brought forth the plight upon life itself to their world.

“Is your wind coating up?” Kishiko asked.

“Course it is. It’s been up for the past few hours, actually,” he said. “See?”

The winds about them shifted slightly, wavering ever so faintly and revealing a bubble that wrapped itself about the both of their forms. Supposedly protecting them from the deathly miasma that hung over the city’s ruins. Which, as of now, was the only known way to avoid certain death at the hands of the malady.

“Impressive,” she replied, pleasantly surprised. “Shouldn’t’ve expected less from you, hmm?”

He flashed his eyebrows in response.

When they got to the city’s perimeter, they scaled its walls through the combined use of their wind and time arts, crossing the threshold and entering Manarat proper with little difficulty.

Even here, Kishiko could pick up no signs that would otherwise indicate even trace amounts of spiritual activity. The city truly was entirely barren and sterile, really only confirming the worst of her suspicions.

“Anything yet?” Kinan asked her.

“No, still nothing,” she replied. “But… It's a little early to make any calls. Let’s keep going.”

A few months back, Kishiko and the Shrine outpost she had been stationed at came into possession of a few fresh victims of the plight. They weren’t sent to her for treatment, for they had long since progressed into the stage of the disease that sealed their fates in death. Instead, they were sent to her so that she could study in detail what happens to a living being’s spirit once it succumbs to the plight.

Typically, when a living creature dies, they shed their spirit such that it may roam freely across the world. The job of the Spiritguide- her, in this instance- was to guide those freed spirits along and prevent them from miring about on the continent for too long. This was done by sending them up to the Land Beyond the Clouds- where they would undergo a true second death and peacefully pass on into oblivion.

This role only came into existence following her predecessor’s discovery of the Artefact of Guidance, her subsequent sudden awareness of the true spiritual nature of their world, and of how desperately the souls of the dead hungered for a guide.

However, she noted that when living creatures afflicted with this plight- Deathblight, as she called it- died, they left no spirit. No soul, no ghost, no remnant that she could then send off to the afterlife to truly pass on. All that remained were their lifeless corpses, ridden and empestered with black thorns rooted all the way down to their very bones. And though she had since managed to convince herself that perhaps she’d made an observational error, now that she was in the presence of the very genesis of Deathblight, there was little she could do to deny what she feared was true.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

They trundled along into the depths of the city, dust and debris that had laid undisturbed on the dead stone paths they walked upon swirling into the air as Kinan’s wind coating cleared the way.

They passed silent coffeeshops and abandoned shophouses, the colours that once glimmered gloriously upon their marble facades long since faded to time. They stepped over gnarled blackened roots tangled upon the ground and slipped past thorny spears buried into stoney and wooden walls, watching as the grand spire nestled within the city centre drew ever closer by the moment.

And each time they peered into a house or a cafe, they caught glimpses of unmoving corpses, their skins crusted over with oily black substances and their forms mangled by myriads of thorns. All frozen in place, their faces concealed in shadow as they sat about tables sipping on empty tea cups or gossipping over events long since past.

“It’s like… everything died. Even time,” he said.

“Did you know anyone that was here when the Blight fell?”

He shook his head.

“I might’ve had a cousin or two, but…” he trailed off. “Can’t say for sure.”

They continued onwards, deeper into the ruins of the city. The further they went, the deeper the layers of dust that coated the city became. It slowly progressed from a thin film to a tangible layer of grey snow that clung to every crevice in the road and every crack in the walls, growing more and more present by the minute. And the more of the dust there was, the more Kinan’s winds swept up to keep at bay. Sometimes, he even had to blow away a broken off twig or branch, watching as the debris crumbled into nothingness as soon as he touched it with his winds.

Amidst the deafening silence of his wind coating, the only sound that accompanied them was the tapping of their shoes against the floor. Three pairs of footsteps, slowly approaching the city centre.

Kishiko looked over her shoulder, checking to see if the city was still asleep.

And they continued onwards- two pairs of footsteps, slowly making their way through the ruins.

“You’re sure your winds will protect us, right?” Kishiko asked.

“Absolutely. Who would we be to place doubt in Lady Clementia?”

“It just feels a little odd,” she continued. “That a simple current of wind can keep back what traversed tens of kilometres of land in an instant to kill the previous Spiritguide.”

The winds about them kicked up a bit slightly, and she heard the distant sounds of doors closing and curtains fluttering.

“Well, it’s worked for almost all the Shafraturriyahn villages,” he countered. “Why wouldn’t it work for us?”

Soon, they arrived at the city centre. Once a bustling plaza surrounded on all sides by market stalls rich with fruits and shophouses flush with luxuries, it was now naught but a grey desert- home only to crumbling black trees.

“Alright,” Kinan said. “What next?”

“We’ll start with the rat.”

Obliging, Kinan placed his bag down onto the floor, fishing from it a tiny cage that held within its iron bars a little rat- scampering and squirming about the small confines of its prison.

“Ready?”

Kishiko retrieved her notebook from one of her sleeve pockets, flipping it open and brandishing the pencil within.

“Ready.”

Kinan threw the cage away gently, letting it cross the boundary of his wind coat as it rolled across the shifting grey dunes. Slowly coming to a stop.

It burst into a spray of blood as several black nails erupted from its body, tearing its flesh from bone and leaving nothing but a spiny, blood-covered mess in its place. So hard were its thorns that the iron cage once wrapped about it split open, bars broken by the expansion of the spines.

And the wind blew in turn, lifting grey dust from the ground and forever concealing the rat’s corpse from their eyes.

“Mmm,” Kishiko hummed, scribbling her observations down. “Seems there's still enough Deathblight present to instantly kill anything not protected by wind.”

“That would certainly explain the lack of life,” Kinan replied. “Is its spirit still there?”

Kishiko stared the ball of thorns down, seeing through the Artefact under her possession and gazing into the spiritual world. But still, there was nothing. Not a single indication that the rat had died at all.

“No,” she said. “So that confirms it, then. Deathblight really does destroy one’s spirit.”

“...What next?”

“We need to investigate the site of impact more closely,” she said. “There’s a good chance whatever heavensent bestowed us with this… plague, is still around for us to find.”

“Alright.”

At once, he got to clearing the area immediately adjacent to the large central spire, blowing away huge clouds of dust and caking the surrounding buildings in an even deeper layer of silt. His winds raced about him, gaining speed as they went, eventually building up to a powerful eddy that surged around the spire- throwing massive amounts of dust up into the air in doing so.

And the city howled in response.

The light of the sky quickly faded away into a dull monotonous grey as the plumes of dust swirled about them, suddenly soaring upwards to entomb them in its dusty grasp. Alarmed, Kishiko shuffled forward, placing a hand Kinan’s shoulder to try and shake him out of it.

“Kinan! Slow down!”

“I… I can’t!”

The dust whirled about them and their bubble, picking up speed and screaming all around them as the skylight all but disappeared into a tiny pinprick of a hole. Their vision smothered, Kishiko stumbled back as she twitched her kitsunite ears about, shifting them to and fro as she scrambled to pick up on the noises within the dust clouds to try and figure out what was going on.

But she heard nothing. Only the roar of the wind. A roar so incredibly deafening. Besieging them on all sides, like the walls of a colosseum.

A colosseum full of ecstatic spectators, eyes wide open and glued to their two visitors.

Cheering them on.

In celebration.

The air around them suddenly crackled and the plumes that surrounded them were thrown back down onto the earth, leaving them standing in the deathly quiet of the dust-covered plaza once more. Kishiko felt as a slight shock trembled down her body from Kinan’s explosive depletion of the mana around them.

She looked at him, seeing as he fell onto one knee, his breathing laboured and sweat dripping from his face as his wind coating collapsed back onto the two of them.

“What happened?” she asked him, quickly rushing forward to avoid getting caught outside of the bubble and to help him to his feet.

“I…”

He could hardly breathe, gasping and choking for air.

“Kinan!”

She looked over her shoulder, checking to see if the city was still asleep.

Still no spirits.

“Kinan-”

A shadow fell upon the both of them, the light of the sky above utterly obstructed by a massive creature that now towered over them. A creature that snaked its way about the central spire, eyes bursting forth from the tired and necrotic flesh all over its rotten serpentine body.

She turned around, watching as the creature’s face sank to meet her, a cold foetid stench filling the now stale air.

“You’ve returned,” it said, the ceramics on its gooey flesh sliding in between bulging eyes to form a wicked, bleeding grin.

“Rei.”