"Same time next week. Don't be late."

Watching the motorcycle that had dropped her off fade into the darkness of the forest, Soyala allowed a minute before the isolation began to set in.

In one of the most remote places in the country, with abandoned architecture that would most likely be bulldozed over to erect another pair of apartments, Koyasan stood silent. The mist brought in by the winter chill and the previous rain waded at Soyala's boots, the sounds of her slow steps crunching against the hard, gravel path.

No tech allowed, that's what Zek told her. Even to find the temple, she would have to be creative. Paper maps were rare to come across, and it took her even longer to get her hands on them when hiding from every camera within a radius of her body. Eventually, she found a dusty old shop near the plaza in Shibuya that sold these old relics. Brushing her gloved thumb against the coodinates she'd memorised, she took a few glances around her, before trusting her gut and following the designated path.

It was two in the morning. The bullet train had gotten interrupted by an emergency stop, which initially had Soyala planning an escape out of the train. She couldn't get caught. It was a stupid idea to even be getting on public transport, but she had no other way of getting to her destination. Her pick-up contact was late, anyway, leaving her with two hours to spare when arriving at the foot of the mountain.

No bother. She'd spent two years in Nepal, often isolated from people whilst meandering through various missions with Jean. The cold was biting, but it tickled like a memory, and the smell of the dew was nostalgic. The only thing that bothered her was whether or not the night-vision lens of her glasses would last for long. She had no means of recharging it; military equipment was solely for the armed forces. And since her dismissal, she had been unable to return them, or to make use of the tools she had, until now. With no funds and the fear of a delivery being traced to her, she stuck with what she got. Squinting through the lens, keeping her arms out, fingers brushing against the trunk of trees and the tips of leafs.

The cable car had stopped working ten years ago. Most of the residents had moved to the city. The Veer struggled to keep their eyes on the people in the mountains, and so, managed to lure them out. The mountains stood empty, quiet, and the old homes and temples were left to collect dust as the months went by. Some had taken the initiative to return to tend to the temples, but did so secretly, in fear of being accused of scrutiny. Breaching 'truth and peace'.

Soyala broke out in cold sweat as she found herself near an opening. Running water could be heard somewhere, and a light was on in the distance. Her arrival was expected, sure, but the fear of being led into a trap remained unshaken. Zek was a friend, an ally. At least, she assumed. She put faith in his doings, assuring herself that the knife would not be stabbed into her the moment she turned around.

Zek hated the Veer as much as the next person. He had no reason to turn anyone in.

"Who's there?".

Shit.

Soyala lunged behind the tree closest to her, dense enough to cover her body in the darkness. There was folklore about hearing your name being called in the woods at night; don't respond to it, as you could be inviting spirits to follow you into your home. Her abuela mentioned that it was the voice of angels, that she shouldn't be scared. Another part of her was still fearful. An urge to scream and run hung at the tip of her tongue, she bit it.

There was silence, nothing other than the nocturnal brush of leafs and the shrieks of bugs. A bead of sweat rolled down her neck, and after another passing chill, Soyala dared to move. A snap behind her. She jumped, and turned around, reaching for something in her belt.

The apperition wore white. Her initiative was to run as fast as she could, she was not equipped to be dealing with spirits. Her blurred vision settled slowly; the glow engulfing the person was due to the moonlight peeking through the trees. They weren't floating, or deathly pale. When they spoke, they sounded human.

"You shouldn't be here".

Soyala gulped slowly, "I was sent here... by Zek Fitzgerald."

A quick of the brow. The person was no older than thirty, their skin free of blemishes or lines. Their eyes were round, but unmoving, unfeeling. The white robes they wore reminded Soyala of the old scholars from her secret history lessons. Although they spoke English, they had a slight accent, of which she didn't know the origin of. Whilst taking in their appearance, Soyala realised how much she had been shaking. How fearful she had been.

"Ah. Montes, no? You're quite early", the monk spoke. They carried a wise air, knowledge stirring behind their eyes, knowledge that Soyala would probably never get to grasp. Usually, she could sense the goodness of people. The monk was still an empty canvas, white and cold. She had no conclusions to draw from, and it everso slightly bothered her. "The Oku-no-in temple is unaccustomed to visitors. Might I assume you're here for--".

"Yes", Soyala cut quickly. "Just yes. I'm uncomfortable disclosing my intentions in an unfamiliar environment." She furrowed her brows slightly, squinting at the darkness in her surroundings. "You can't really trust anyone these days."

The monk paused. "You're right, you can't. Follow me. We can continue this conversation elsewhere."

Soyala followed closely behind. The December air bit at her harshly, blowing at her ears. She trailed behind the monk with some difficulty. Their robes seemed thick enough to bring them some warmth, if any. Their feet remained exposed by the straps of their sandals, their ankles appearing red. She was led through an unfamiliar, seemingly endless path, before she spotted a bridge in the distance.

Ah, Zek told her about this.

The existence of gods on this planet meant a requirement of respect, in all shapes. In the instance of Koyasan, a sacred land once occupied by the believers of Kobo Daishi, she had to remember her manners. The Ichinohashi Bridge bore its path beyond her, and her hands clasped together softly before her head dipped into a bow, imitating the monk's movements. Only then did they continue onto the path, and structures Soyala was unfamiliar with caught her eyes.

"The Oku-no-in cemetery is the largest in our country. People like to be buried here in hopes for salvation. Lords and monks have laid their rest here for eons."

Soyala listened, eyes scanning the mossy stone graves, her head bowed. It bothered her.

It bothered her that all of her life, she had been taught to overlook these sights as mere fragments from the past that humans would cover eventually. Archeologists a thousand years ago were still uncovering the structures of the Ancients in Europe, unearthing the bones and marks of animals that no longer roamed the earth. Sights like these put museums in the capitals of the world to shame. But anything, from a piece of rock to a statue, that gave people a false sense of truth on what the laws of the universe are, were destroyed, or made to be forgotten. She wondered, how many of these monks who frequented Koyasan were being hunted down, just like her? And to think they still had the guts to stay...

"Here's the Gokusho Offering Hall."

"I hope this doesn't come as an intrusive question", Soyala stated. "But are we the only ones here?".

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The monk hummed, "Typically, there are only ever three people present on the sacred grounds themselves. Monks, like myself. Our presence here is permitted for as long as we wish. But in the case of people unbound to the temple and its customs, such as yourself and others like you, treading carefully is an understatement. We must not give the authority from outside the impression that we're teaching anything up here. 'Brainwashing', as they say."

The smile that then curled at the monk's lips looked rather natural, evenmoreso than their poker face. "I believe, though, that if one is brave and wise enough to learn the arts of the cultists, then they're definitely smart enough to stay quiet about their visit to Koyasan. Shall we continue?".

"Uh, yeah. Sure."

There was light peeking through the windows, shadows moving across, reminding her of her time camping when she was a child. Stories told across a campfire, screams and barrels of laughter that echoed so vividly in her memory. It surprised her that she could recall much of her childhood. Apart from the boldening moments that changed her as a person, the good things tended to melt into the unforgotten stream of most of her memories. The unlabelling scent of the temple grounds made her feel like she was 8-years-old again.

Upon bowing at the bottom of the temple stairs, Soyala's footsteps creaked against the cold wood. As they got closer to the door, she heard a pool of conversations. "Once we're inside, I shall introduce you to our main mentor. And perhaps some of your future allies."

A gulp, a nod, and a step into the temple.

Tatami floors, the hall illuminated by lanterns placed among the floors. Whatever Soyala had been expecting, this was not it.

There were around fifteen people taking up the immense space. They stayed a slight distance from one another, as she soon spotted the glowing, golden patterns on their body, with abilities of all sorts being invoked. She saw the faces of people from all around the globe, the oldest looking at least 60-years-old. They were wearing training gear, black and tight against their bodies. A palimpsest of colours, shapes, lights, it was an insult to her senses. Not even the explosions in Alexandria left her this disorientated. She could only watch as one young woman puffed out of existence, and reappeared across the room at the half blink of an eye. Another conjured ten mirrored versions of herself, making Soyala's eyes blur in discomfort.

"Every person here is part of the cause. Some have been here longer than others, but the beauty of cultism is that your abilities can always improve", the monk explained beside her. "We have two people here who have three runes, bound to three deities. It is not ideal, but in the battlefield, no army nor brilliant tech can go up against them."

Soyala spoked in a slightly lowered voice, "If these people have the power of gods, is it not enough to go against the Veer?".

"We fear that the Veer may not be our only enemy", the monk responded. "Besides, even if we do tank their authoritarian grasp on the planet, we have around 9 billion people who will be horrified by our mere existence. The destruction of a system they were born into will occur, and with no army to protect them, they will sharpen their spears against us."

"There's not exactly a peaceful way of gaining their trust, either. Your-- our, existence is an abomination to them", Soyala hesitated. She still wasn't completely sold on the idea of being a cultist. Perhaps a part of her assumed she had to prove herself before being granted such a title, like in the army. She needed to prove her strength and allegiance. Maybe the cultists were different. "So, what's the plan? Do we take the vigilante route?".

"I'll take the questions from here, Sora."

To her right, a man approached. He was perhaps a head and a half taller than her, age wading at their late thirties. His jett black hair was overdue for a haircut, but his goatee seemed nicely trimmed. His combat gear allowed Soyala to look at the two runes imprinted on both his forearms; a snake, and a lion. "No problem, Ryuu. However, please be aware of tonight's curfew", 'Sora' replied, and dipped their head into a bow to Soyala, before taking their leave. With a warm presence gone, Soyala felt like a lamb to the slaughter.

Until she heard Ryuu snickering, "You can relax, soldier. There's no formalities here. I just ask that you call me 'sir' in training."

"Uhh... right, can do."

Ryuu had a dimple on his right cheek. "I'll help you ease into everything. Every few weeks, we gather people for a boot camp. Relaying new information, announcing new members, and debriefing on what's been going on and how we fit in", he began circling the hall and Soyala tried to keep up. "Tonight, we've been instructed to finish our training early. Apparently the Veer have coincidentally decided to perform a check on Koyasan. Given the amount of movement in the mountain lately, I can't say this was unpredictable."

"You think they already have eyes up here?".

"The Veer like to think they're omniscient. But they're not gods. They like to think they are, though", Ryuu continued. "They've caught word of some of our plans. According to our sources, they're planning on executing some of their 'moral criminals' in Okinawa on Friday night. One of the criminals is one of us. We'd like to help her out before that all goes down."

Executions? Soyala squinted through her memories, attempting to remember what her general once told her and her crew. The Veer had jurisdiction only in the instance of crime-watching. They were not able to exercise such brutality. But that was years ago, politics changed like the tides every day. It wouldn't surprise her if one day, the Veer replaced democratically-appointed world leaders. Like Japan's prime minister.

"Will they search the temples?".

Ryuu smirked, "Only if we give them a reason to. Which is why we were anxious for your arrival. The quicker we figure you out, the better."

"Pardon me, sir?".

"Show me your rune, soldier."

His forwardness was startling, but taking orders was not foreign to Soyala. She gulped as she removed her jacket and scarf, before raising her shirt slightly. On her right side, burned into her hip, a double-ended hook rune. It curled at the centre before bearing both its sharp heads. She had not thought about its meaning; you weren't meant to. You were meant to draw spontaneously, meditating in the process, invoking all of your senses and awakening your spirit for it to kindle with a higher being floating above you. Whatever marked you had chosen you, that was Jean told her. She thought her pattern had made no sense after she saw it, and her thoughts were scattered as she awaited for it heal. She looked at Ryuu's face, attempting to read him.

"Hahgwehdiyu."

Soyala's heart jumped. "He who governs?". Her grandfather had told her very little about his Iroquois origin, fearing that her curiosity would get her too close. The inate spirituality of some people around the world, embedded into culture, could get them killed. Even so, he told her about the creator god and his twin brother, god of evil and discord. How he made the skies with his palm, the sun with his mother's face, the earth with her body. To think that such a god, forgotten by many, had bound himself to her filled her with a nauseating mixture of pride, and anxiety. Oh, if only her abuela was here.

"It appears so", Ryuu said, his face lighting up. "No god ever picks another host. So every cultist is unique in the sense that nobody carries the same power as them. The only downfall of that is that you have no one to guide you with the manifestations of your abilities. We can train you on how to invoke those powers, but how you use them is entirely up to you. Think wisely, soldier."

"And... how do I invoke it, exactly?".

The lights went out.

Through the lens of her night glasses, Soyala spotted the training cultists freeze in their movements, Ryuu looking around and calling for a monk. It was only when the curtains dropped down, and the room sunk into complete darkness, where Soyala came to her senses. The Veer were close.

"Everyone, through the hatchet."

Ryuu's hand clasped Soyala's shoulder and nearly hurled her forward, she scrambled for her jacket and scarf and followed the trail of cultists through the dark, as a hole had appeared on the tatami floor. She mostly concentrated on not tripping over in front of someone as she descended down a small flight of stairs, and ducked into a wooden passage. The basement was lit by small candles against the walls, barrels of aged wine and wooden boxes and crates lined up. Hearing the hatchet door close, Soyala focused on slowing her breathing.

This reminded her of home. When Santiago was flooded by Veer authorities suppressing demonstrations in the streets, she and her classmates were forced to hide in the school basement, as protesters had broken into the building for their own safety. She had only heard the first shot before her teacher slipped a pair of earmuffs onto her head, and in the darkness, she sat, holding the hand of a younger classmate who could not stop crying. Her vision blurred again.

"You alright, newbie?".

The woman from earlier, the one who could teleport. Soyala nodded slowly, admiring how the woman's blonde ponytail looked golden in the dark. "How long do we have to stay down here?", she asked slowly.

"Until those bastards decide to go away", the woman sighed and rubbed the back of neck. "Guess we gotta wait until tomorrow to see what you can do, eh?". Her bunny teeth were pearly white as she smiled. "The name's Esther."

Soyala didn't get to respond.

Upstairs, heavy boots stomped against the tatami floors, and Soyala's heart got caught in a hurricane.

A trap. Or just really, really shitty luck.