“First Bloom—”
“I will give her your greetings, little Serpents. Your new First Bloom rises this day. Go, and prepare for his coming, the ashes of Foxes upon the soles of his feet.”
The Inquisitors bowed, low and solemn, palms pressed together, speaking as one.
“For the Mother.”
“For the Mother,” Tojo nodded.
The Inquisitors filed from the room, through the aperture of an iris portal, the metal grinding closed behind them. Only four remained now, standing at the room’s periphery. Daichi found himself alone, just a few footsteps away from the heart of Guild power in Shima.
Staring down at his upturned palm.
None of the Inquisitors were close enough to stop him. Once his eyes grew accustomed to the light, he could snap this old man’s neck like tinder. There was no way in the hells Kin would serve as First Bloom in this place—he knew the boy’s love for Yukiko would never allow him to rule the Guild. If they were relying on him to step into the void Tojo left behind …
“If Kin will be the Guild’s next leader, why is he not here in First House? Protected?”
“Because he Will Be the Guild’s next leader.”
“But should you not be keeping him safe? Why risk his life in the Yama assault?”
“We risk nothing. What Will Be, Will Be.”
“That is madness. Nothing in this life is a certainty.”
“Foolishness. All is preordained. Tell me you do not feel it, since first the blackness took root in your lungs. And tell me that certainty has not brought you a clarity. A peace. A strength. You know it, Daichi-san. You were meant to be here, speaking with me, right now.”
“I chose to be here. For good or—”
“We are slaves to fate. To a design beyond our comprehension.”
“That makes no sense. There are no strings. No puppeteers.”
“You do not believe in gods, then?”
“Of course, but—”
“I have seen the future, Daichi-san. I have seen this moment, every night in my dreams. In the Chamber of Smoke, we pry our inner eye wide, looking into the tapestry of fate. Those of us with strength see the most pivotal moment of our lives. How could that be, if those lives were not predetermined? If all the events leading to that moment were not set in stone?”
“But if everything is predestined, what is the purpose of living at all?”
“There is no point. None whatsoever. That is the truth she whispers to us in the dark.”
“She?”
Tojo gestured to the walls with one creaking sweep of his arm. Daichi looked around, eyes still narrowed after weeks spent in gloom. But on the room’s edge, carved deep into the granite, he could see murals. Lord Izanagi stirring the oceans of creation with his spear. Lady Izanagi, perishing in the birth of Shima. The Maker God’s quest to retrieve his beloved, ending in failure. And at last, the Lady sitting on a throne of human bones, waiting in the dark.
Alone.
“Endsinger, Daichi-san,” Tojo said. “End. Singer.”
“Lady Izanami.”
“Hai.”
“But why? What does she—”
“One thousand people. Every day.”
“And you fools in the Guild seek to aid her? To bring about the end of all things?”
“Not all within the Guild know. Most are as blind as you. Never questioning.”
“But how? She is forever trapped in Yomi…”
“She sought to reclaim this world once. Tricked a child into opening the gate Lord Izanagi had sealed. And through that gate, she sent her children to war on the world of men.”
“The War of the Hellgate.”
“Indeed.”
“But the stormdancer Tora Takehiko charged into Yomi and sealed the gate forever.”
“And so, with the Iishi gate reduced to rubble, she sought a new way into the world. A new key to unlock it. A new altar, watered with the blood of thousands.”
“Blood lotus…”
“Hai.”
“The deadlands…”
“Hai.”
“My gods…”
“No, no,” Tojo chuckled. “Your Goddess.”
“So all this … lotus, the gaijin war, inochi … all to start another hell war?”
“There will be no war.” Tojo shook his head. “More than oni will crawl from the cracks we tear in this island’s face. The little ones have already begun arriving, but when we are done, the fissures will be large enough to unleash the greatest denizens of Yomi. Horrors beyond imagining. The Dark Mother herself will walk these isles. And in her wake? Ashes, all.”
“Madness…” Daichi breathed.
“We could not have done it without you. Oh, you wonderful little skinless. So enamored of the trinkets we gave. Engines and sky-ships and chainswords to fight your wars and stock our larders with gaijin slaves, their blood watering the earth from which She will spring.”
Tojo shook his head, sighing.