Night had deeply set in when Felix finally saw what seemed to be the village's gateway. Thanks to his good eyesight, paired with the slivers of moonlight that sneaked past the soft clouds, he was able to spot the fine details around him.
In his view stood two massive doors towering at the gate's heart, each one double a person's height, casting a dominating presence.
These giants were crafted from thick, solid oak planks, each bearing the marks of countless seasons. Silent stories of ages long past lay etched in the patina of age upon their surfaces. Heavy bands of iron traversed the doors, thick and robust, adding strength along with a touch of austere beauty, reminiscent of the veins on some ancient leaf.
The doors were set into a frame of solid wood, whose posts rose heavenward as though they were trees from some primeval forest. These posts, formed from whole tree trunks, stood solid and immovable, their lower extremities sunk deep into the earth.
Above them, one heavy horizontal beam was set, its ends projecting a few inches over the tops of the vertical supports, giving an impression of solidity and stability. Above the entire structure, a battlement for defense was raised, for archers to protect the village.
Flanking the gate on either side, a stalwart wooden palisade stretched away, with sharpened stakes pointing skyward in silent warning. It enveloped the village, a protecting wooden arm against unseen dangers.
Soft earth was beneath Felix's feet, carpeted with fallen leaves that rustled softly in unobtrusive accompaniment to the night symphony. He could hear the steady, slow, rhythmic creaking of a watermill on the other side of the gate, providing a steady backbeat to the nocturnal chorus.
With a smooth motion that spoke of long practice, Felix got off his ride. He spun around to help the elderly lady down from her seat on the Komainu. He reached out his hand to her, steady and ready to help her come down.
Step by step, with care, the old woman made her way down, her sightless eyes looking off into someplace far away. As soon as her feet made contact with the ground, words began to flow from her. Even though she barely raised her voice above a whisper, it carried the heavy echo of age-old knowledge.
"Child, get your friends off the komainu right now."
Felix sprang into action without hesitation. Bracing himself, he reached down and gently lifted each boy in turn, laying them down upon the leaves on the ground below. The leaves crunched softly beneath them, reminding him a bit too candidly that yes, they were indeed unconscious.
Then, with great care, he took Ryota and Suzu from off the other komainu's back, his hands infinitely gentle despite their strength.
When Felix unloaded his friends, finishing his work, the mysterious creature began to emit a soft green glow before disappearing, signaling that the old lady's Zor energy had reached its time limit.
While Felix was preoccupied with his friends, an elderly lady approached the gate with surprising confidence. Though she appeared frail, her steady, determined steps were unexpectedly firm.
Despite the massive size of the gates, they swung open effortlessly, a detail that defied expectation. As she pushed them further apart, the creaking of large hinges echoed through the stillness of the night. Yet, beyond this grand entrance, there was an eerie emptiness—no signs of life to be found.
The path, showing signs of wear and tear, made a series of twists and turns leading directly into the village's heart. With a sharp gaze, Felix tried hard to make out the shapes of the buildings along the path, where shadows and a low-lying fog made it difficult to see clearly. Despite trying hard, he felt no hint of anyone around in the place.
Rather than a physical structure, the wooden gate acted, in this case, as a passage from the world of the known to a world that was yet to be discovered: from the world that was common to one that had grown to be considered extraordinary in the eyes of the beholder.
As he surveyed the village, his marvel at the strength of the old woman drew Felix's attention to her. As if she could feel the effects of his movements, the woman turned towards him and spoke; her voice felt ancient.
"This is my abandoned village," she implored him.
"Forgive me if it seems odd, but the site in front of you has been devoid of a population for many years. The only people who remain here, apart from me, are my granddaughter and a few men."
Felix felt no guile in her words. He took a deep breath and carefully lifted both boys into the crook of his arms. The old lady beckoned to a nearby building.
"Follow me that way, child. There is a house that time has kept dear.
On the walk up to the house, the aged blind woman almost lost her balance, stumbling over a rock on the ground. It was a sobering reminder that however otherworldly her senses might be, she was still blind as a bat.
Closer to the abode, Felix was suddenly all too aware of an abiding perfume in the air—the unmistakable odor of destruction long past; its aftereffects still in palpable evidence even after untold years. The old one slid open the door and beckoned him inside.
"Ah, I believe there should be a lamp gracing the table beside the door," she said.
Felix set the boys gently on the ground and stepped inside, his eyes adjusting at once to the gloom.
He made out the lamp and lit it; in its soft light, he saw a room with raised tatami floors, their woven surface worn smooth by thousands upon thousands of footsteps. Felix reached out and picked up each of the boys in turn, setting them gently on the soft mats.
Their small bodies seemed fragile as birds in the lamplight, their chests rising and falling with meager breaths. He quickened his pace, going back outside to Suzu and Ryota, who lay still near the gate.
After all had entered and remained safe, she spoke once more. The timbre of her voice had now shifted from weariness to a weariness tinged with fatigue.
"Sleep now, child. Come early, dawn breeze; your companions will soon be awake. I, too, find myself in need of a brief respite."
"I am so grateful," he said with a steady voice, "for what you have done for them and for me."
He made that statement while looking at the old lady who smiled back at him.
"Don't admonish," she said in a quiet voice. "I have but done what was needed," she spoke; without hesitation, she exited with a soft thud that followed her out.
Left to himself, Felix resumed his house tour. His fingers stroked the coarse cuts in the wood of the beams, tracking the history in the grain of the wood.
Moving into a small nook, he found a pile of blankets—worn, their patterns faded so that they were barely distinguishable even in the poor light.
The mustiness that enveloped him from them changed his mind, and he discarded the idea of using the blankets.
Instead, Felix placed Ryota and the others in one room, arranging them to be as comfortable as possible on the tatami. Retreating to another room, his body finally let go of its bone-deep weariness, which had threatened to overwhelm him.
As Felix lay down, the events of that day ran in his head behind his eyelids, like some kind of fevered dream. A pang of regret rained upon him, bitter as gall.
"I could do nothing," his mind judged, clenching his fists in annoyance.
"I have grown weak. If my father saw me this way, he would laugh at me."
"Yet he would also see potential in my struggle and would be eager to guide me back to strength."
At last, he fell asleep from exhaustion, and Felix plunged into profound, dreamless sleep. Outside, unseen by him, the old blind woman stood outside the house, with an enigmatic smile playing at the corners of her lips as she stared, unseeing, into the night sky
The next morning was bright and clear; the air vibrated with unseen birds melodiously singing. A mischievous monkey scratched its back, observing the village with wide eyes.
"He's like a statue!" he was saying amidst peals of laughter. Jun echoed with his giggles a little ways away, continuing into the tiny room.
Felix lay on his tatami mat, staring into the distance, his mind still in a haze. An insistent poking at his face was Kai, grinning down at him.
Felix sat up abruptly; the boys scampered away like rabbits. Memories of the previous night flooded his mind while he made his way outside, squinting his eyes.
"Finally awake, sleepyhead?" Ryota's voice chirped, leaning against the doorframe, his face lit up in a bright smile.
"Ryota, is everything OK?" Felix asked urgently; the alarm was evident in his voice.
"Yeah, all is well. Don't worry," Ryota assured him, his bubbly nature unconcerned.
Felix heaved a sigh of relief. "Good to hear. How is Suzu?"
"She is fine too," Ryota replied.
"She has been trying to prepare something in the kitchen. The old lady came earlier with some vegetables."
Felix's shoulder muscles relaxed. On cue, Suzu's voice floated out from the kitchen:
"Breakfast is ready!"
Small feet thundered across the floor as Kai and Jun raced toward the promise of food. Ryota chuckled, placing a hand on Felix's shoulder.
"Let's go; I'm starving."
Mumbling their way to the kitchen, Felix recalled the contrast of this calm morning with the mess of the previous night. Ryota and the boys beamed as if they had not gone through such horrifying incident. However, somewhere deep inside, there was an irritating voice that whispered that it is often not what it seems.
A fire feature that was common within the traditional transaction is that the kitchen was separated from the house so that, in the event of a fire, it would not jump to the rest of the building. As they walked in the door, Felix was at once assailed by a barrage of stimuli.
The service room was a relic of builder craftsmanship centuries ago, with mud walls, wooden rafters, and thatched roofs.
The cool clay floor was a welcome relief from the oppressive heat that was slowly increasing outside. In the center of the room was a pit, with a fire ring built from rounded cobblestones.
On the opposite wall was a stone stove with one opening for all kinds of cooking pots. Open shelves and hanging racks displayed an assortment of well-worn cookware and utensils, their patina speaking volumes about the innumerable meals prepared within these walls.
The old lady was already seated at the rickety wooden table, her gnarled hands folded in front of her, much to Felix's astonishment. It was a comforting yet somewhat terrifying presence—one that Felix could hardly dare to think anything of because she must have known things he could never, even if she half-expected him to know them too. He sat across from her; the chair squeaked slightly under his weight.
Felix sat and studied her face, the lines etched upon her features, grooves emanating from the corners of her eyes and the edges of her mouth like rivulets from a mountain stream—a chart depicting the topography of an active and expansive life.
"Morning," there was strength in her soft voice.
"How did you sleep last night?" Well, she said, with a note of concern in her voice. Felix hesitated, pulling at the very edge of his honesty.
After a beat, he answered, "Well, thank you for asking; I slept well," without divulging the tempest in his brain.
"How about you?" It was more of a polite thing than actually wanting to know.
The woman smiled, her mouth bending at the edges.
"I slept well."
Felix, still unable to take his eyes off the dish he had never seen before, it was Kinpira Gobo—a traditional burdock root and carrots sautéed in a soy sauce/sugar/mirin mixture. The vegetables were sliced like matchsticks, and the smell was enticing. But what caught his eye was the two very thin chopsticks lying next to his plate.
"Hey, why aren't you picking your chopsticks?" Ryota said, trying not to smirk.
Felix felt a rush of mortification. He lifted the chopsticks—each stick with one hand—nothing fancy.
Everyone looked at Felix, except the old lady. The silence that followed only seemed to heighten his awkwardness, and it was only when Kai and Jun laughed that they seemed to break it.
"Don't tell me that you do not know how to use them!" Ryota finally chuckled.
Felix remained silent. At that moment, Ryota's delightful voice overcame his embarrassment.
"Come on, it's easy!" Ryota showed the technique with practiced elegance.
"Just hold them like this." He took one of the pieces of Kinpira Gobo in front of him to his mouth easily, with a smile on his face.
Felix watched closely, following Ryota's exact movements. He paused and took a breath, remembering everyone has to start from somewhere.
"Okay, I can do this," his embarrassment was pushed aside.
He reached out, carefully focused, and finally snagged a chunk of burdock root. He managed to get it in front of his mouth and felt a sense of accomplishment wash over him for the first time in decades.
"See? You're a natural!"
"That's the spirit!" Ryota said, smacking him on the back.
The boys raced outside after breakfast, their animated voices quickly disappearing into the distance. The table was cloaked in a heavy silence that was broken only by the soft clink of dishes as Suzu started to clear them away. Silence fell until it was abruptly pierced, with all of the grave urgency of a still metallic crossbow at dawn — the voice of the ancient lady.
"So, you have negative zor energy?"
Everyone's eyes darted to her in astonishment and angst, as if breathing felt like a chore.
"You know?" Ryota asked anxiously.
"Indeed, because why else would a kaal decide to attack you, right?"
To which Suzu would mutter quietly.
"Then we must leave this village," she said urgently, as her hands trembled slightly while setting down the dishes; porcelain clicked softly against wood.
"No need for that, my dear," the old blind lady said with a serene smile that seemed to soften the deep furrows around her eyes.
"If I wanted to send you away, I would never have invited you into our village."
She fell silent for a moment before rising from her chair with a soft grunt. Her small feet made the floorboards creak as she stood — a giant in more ways than size.
"The truth is that my granddaughter."
Her voice trembled. Leaving her words hanging in the air like fragile threads. But before she finished speaking Kai's frantic scream followed by June's panicked shouts reverberated throughout the room - high pitched and full of pure terror.
Ryota got up and ran outside. His chair fell to the floor with a deafening thud, and he rushed towards the door without the slightest hesitation. Felix and Suzu glanced at each other; they quickly went behind Ryota towards the door.