Chapter 9Lurking Shadows

Far from the Imperial palace where hope still flickers like a candle in the wind, the violet-gold light that trails across the heavens has faded to a mere whisper across the high desert. Here, where the twilight turns from gold to darkness, the wind howls with a voice that speaks of ancient secrets and forgotten terrors.

The Rock Guai moves with the ponderous grace of mountains, shifting a boulder to clear the shrine’s entrance. From the ruins emerge shadowy shapes that crawl and stagger—creatures of darkness returning to their master’s embrace.

Black Husk Soldiers, some limping, some crawling, their chitinous armour cracked and oozing with ichor that stains the sand black. Among them stagger several Fox Spirits, their once-pristine fur now patchy and torn, their tails reduced to ragged stumps that speak of battles lost and pride shattered. One Fox Spirit, more severely wounded than the others, drags herself forward with broken limbs, her fur matted with mud and sand, her eyes clouded with pain and humiliation.

They come to a place where the very earth has betrayed its nature—a crack in the ground that opens like a wound, revealing a sickly yellow vortex that pulses with malevolent energy. The wounded squad is drawn into this portal.

The exhausted soldiers emerge into a realm that defies the laws of nature itself. Here, an infinite expanse of dark mist swirls around a towering yellow monolith, its surface veined with shadowed light that pulses like a slow, corrupted heartbeat. The air tastes bitter, as if the very essence of hope has been leached from existence.

The remaining Yaoguais drop to one knee, their heads bowed low in submission, mandibles clicking in a rhythm that speaks of ancient oaths and terrible bargains.

Behind the monolith, a figure waits—one who has orchestrated this gathering of shadows with the patience of a spider and the cunning of a serpent. Clad in sleek Verdant East armour that hums with barely contained energy, the figure’s form is obscured by the shifting shadows and the advanced technology that seems to drink in the darkness. The armour’s surface ripples with subtle light patterns, similar to the alloy steeds used by the Imperial forces, but refined and enhanced for stealth. A fearsome ghost mask covers the lower half of the face, crafted in the ancient shaman tradition—its surface carved with intricate patterns that seem to writhe in the dim light, featuring bulging eyes that glow with an unnatural yellow fire, fangs that drip with shadow, and a mouth frozen in a rictus of eternal hunger. The mask’s grotesque features are twisted in a permanent snarl that would make even the bravest warrior hesitate, its very presence seeming to draw the darkness closer like a magnet for malevolence. Even in stillness, there’s a lethal grace that speaks of years spent in the shadows, a presence that commands attention without revealing identity.

“Report.” The monolith glows with an inner fire, and a deep, distorted voice vibrates through the air like thunder through poisoned clouds.

The Fox Spirit, her eyes downcast in shame, rasps out her failure: “We failed. The relic awakened. There was… there was someone else there. We didn’t expect anyone.”

The figure steps out from behind the monolith, and when it speaks, the voice that emerges is muffled and distorted through the ghost mask, carrying the weight of authority that brooks no argument. “You failed. The shield remains untouched.”

Then, with deliberate slowness that draws every eye in the shadow horde, the figure reaches up and removes the fearsome ghost mask. The ancient shaman mask, with its writhing patterns and shadow-dripping fangs, falls away like a discarded nightmare. The armour’s helmet retracts with a soft hiss, and for the first time, the shadow horde sees the truth behind the mysterious presence. The grotesque mask that seemed to draw darkness to itself now lies discarded, revealing a young woman whose noble facial expression masks an intent as dark as the void between stars. Her features are sharp and refined, carrying the unmistakable elegance of a Verdant East princess, but her eyes—those eyes speak of depths that would make even the bravest warrior hesitate.

“This human again?!” The Fox Spirit shrieks, taking deep breaths to ready her yips. “I’ve had enough of yo… hrmnnn—”

“Keep your jaws still.” Before the fox can make her hideous noise, the figure throws a colourful orb into her mouth. “You don’t want it to bloom too early in your face.”

“Order!” The ground shakes as the monolith grumbles, its voice carrying the weight of ancient authority. “Shadow horde of the Tsunami House. Hear me now. You shall heed the orders of this human, for she walks with us on our path to salvation.”

“Baat… ma laard… (but, my lord),” the Fox Spirit struggles to speak with her mouthful, carefully making her objection, “haa ih thih hoomaa (who is this human)?”

“I am Princess Sayaka,” the figure announces, her voice carrying the cold precision of a blade honed to perfection. “Princess of the Kingdom of Wei. I travelled far from the Verdant East. It is an honour to lead you.”

Behind her, the yellow monolith lets out a low, grinding pulse, like breath through a dry desert—a sound that speaks of reluctant approval and hunger.

“Rest assured, she is still far away from touching the shield. The Earth has not awakened.” Sensing the monolith’s unease, Princess Sayaka proposes the next step. “But we need to act quickly.”

“Do tell,” the monolith speaks, its voice carrying the weight of centuries of malevolence.

“You will return to the shrine,” Princess Sayaka points at the battered fox, her gesture as precise as a surgeon’s scalpel. “Stay close to the shrine. Watch for signs of the shield’s resonance.”

The Fox Spirit glances up, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. “Bahh the hrine ihg… (but the shrine is)”

“I know what happened at the shrine.” Princess Sayaka turns to her, asserting her authority with the cold certainty of one who has seen the depths of weakness. “You let one girl outwit your command. The swarm was yours, and yet—distracted. I am giving you one more chance to redeem yourself. Wait. Watch. Report.”

The Fox Spirit bows lower, her entire body trembling with the knowledge that her life hangs by the thinnest of threads.

“The girl couldn’t get far.” Princess Sayaka continues, her voice carrying the weight of inevitability. “I require four more hordes of foot soldiers, five Fox Spirits, and four Rock Guais.”

The monolith hums with approval, and from the shadows emerge four more Fox Spirits, their yips echoing through the dark realm as they lead the Black Husk Soldiers forward. Behind them, a fifth Fox appears without foot soldiers, looking lonely and confused—a creature caught between duty and despair.

Princess Sayaka pulls her shaman mask over her face again, the gesture transforming her face from an elegant young woman back into her essence—a figure of dark wrath and calculated malice. She turns toward the vortex where the Yaoguais entered, and through the spatial distortion, she can see near the Celestial Tower, where the last pale violet-gold light from the shrine still touches the clouds, fading like the last breath of hope.

“We’ll find her there,” she says, her voice once again distorted and muffled through the ancient shaman mask, carrying the weight of a promise that cannot be broken.

As she walks towards the vortex, passing the trembling Fox Spirit, Princess Sayaka pulls the explosive orb from her jaws and tosses it towards a boulder far in the distance.

A loud explosion splatters green goo all over the boulder. For a brief moment, it looks as if it’s covered in fluorescent moss. Dots of unnatural colours—pink, violet, silver, and cyan—bubble and spread like wild daisies on a green pasture. The shadow horde stands still with confusion, surprise, then horror, as they watch the colourful goo hiss and melt the boulder away, reducing solid stone to nothing more than a memory.

The horde, trembling at the sight of such destructive power, quickly follows and marches behind Princess Sayaka, their fear of her now greater than their fear of the unknown.

The monolith resonates with an approval hum that speaks of ancient spectres awakening from their slumber.

“And this time…” Princess Sayaka’s voice carries the weight of a promise that cannot be broken, “I’ll make sure she sleeps in the ground forever.”

As the shadow horde marches through the vortex, their forms blurring and distorting as they cross the boundary between realms, Princess Sayaka pauses for a moment. Through the spatial distortion, she can see the distant Celestial Tower—that ancient structure that has stood for centuries as a beacon of hope and light.

But now, as the violet-gold light fades completely from the heavens, the Tower stands alone against the gathering darkness. Its ancient stones, once radiant with celestial power, now seem to absorb the shadows from the century old cracks.

Princess Sayaka conceals her face again behind the fearsome mask, revealing only her determined stare that speaks of plans long in the making and destinies about to be rewritten.

And somewhere in the distance, as General Vanguard and his Elite Riders speed in the direction of the Celestial Tower, the first whispers of a thunderstorm begin to gather—a storm that will change everything.