Dragon Tiger Mountain, Heavenly Gate Peak.
The lingering smell of wax around the mountaintop had just dissipated, and the once omnipresent golden glow that covered the mountain had finally dimmed, revealing the true color of the rocks.
From the foothills below, the occasional faint chanting and the sound of ritual instruments like bells and conchs could be heard, weak and breathless.
On the small path leading up the mountain, one could often see black paper cranes, gathered in twos and threes, clinging to crevices in the rocks and tree branches, fluttering their paper wings or hopping around, a picture of laziness. It was rare now to see the black paper cranes swirling like a black storm as they had in the past, with a terrifying force that seemed to sweep everything before them.
"Ha~um."
