The Empty Gate

The Red Moon was two nights away.

The atmosphere at the shrine shifted. The mist grew thicker, yellow and choking. The birds stopped singing. Even Ren’s flute fell silent.

Kaede spent her nights in the library, poring over the scrolls left by the previous guardians. *The Seal of the Gate,* they read. *The Beast lies beyond. It hungers. It waits.*

She had to reinforce the wards.

"Ren," she called out on the fifth night. "I need your help. The preparations for the ritual require two people to light the braziers."

Ren came out of the guest room. He looked terrible. His skin was pale, sweat beading on his forehead. He clutched his bandaged left arm to his chest.

"Are you ill?" Kaede asked, stepping closer. The impulse to touch his forehead, to check for fever, was startlingly strong.

"Just the weather," Ren said, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Lead the way, Guardian."

They walked to the Forbidden Courtyard. In the center stood the Great Gate—a massive stone arch set into the cliff face. It had no doors, only a curtain of heavy iron chains hanging across the opening. Behind the chains was darkness.

"This is where the monster lives?" Ren asked, his voice tight.

"The God of Rot," Kaede corrected. "My ancestors bound him here three hundred years ago. If he escapes, the valley below will turn to dust."

She handed Ren a torch. "Light the eastern brazier. I will light the western. We must act in unison."

They approached the gate. Kaede began the chant, the ancient words of binding rolling off her tongue. The air grew heavy with static.

She thrust her torch into the western bowl. Fire erupted, blue and clean.

She looked to Ren.

He was standing by the eastern bowl, trembling violently. He raised the torch, but his arm seized. He dropped the fire.

"Ren!"

He fell to his knees, screaming.

It was a sound that tore through Kaede’s soul—pure, unadulterated agony.

"Get back!" Ren choked out. "Kaede, get back!"

He clawed at his left arm. The bandages, soaked in sweat and rain, began to smoke. They unraveled, falling away in charred strips.

Kaede froze.

Beneath the bandages, Ren’s arm was not human flesh. It was made of cracked, burning obsidian. Magma-like light pulsed through the fissures. The black rot she had seen in the forest wasn't coming from the gate. It was pouring off *him*.

The black sludge dripped from his fingertips, sizzling as it hit the holy ground.

Ren looked up, his eyes entirely black, leaking dark tears.

"The gate," he gasped, pointing at the massive stone arch. "Look at the gate."

Kaede looked. The iron chains hung still. The darkness behind them was empty. There was no pressure coming from the cliff.

"It’s empty," she whispered.

"It’s always been empty," Ren sobbed, curling around his burning arm. "The Shrine isn't a prison, Kaede. It’s an execution ground."

He looked at her, the human boy fading behind a mask of agony.

"I am the vessel," he said. "I am the God of Rot."