Winter, Day 20 - Vision Walk (Shown)

 Once those who were going to take their masks had done so, and had settled them upon their faces, a flare of magic shot out through the tethers, awakening the masks’ magic. Vulpine visages appeared in place of the masks, apparitions that appeared over the faces of the wearers, though the wearers might still feel… ears. Long noses. A cool breeze through their fur.


Another pulse went through the tethers, the kami of foxes calling to *kin*.


*Walk with me,* they said, not aloud, but in their mind, a telepathic call to those around them.


Shiro perked her ears up, watching attentively. Even Coyote, now in his fox form, would be able to hear this. Ana, too, could feel the pull and follow if she chose, to see as Shiori saw.


*Inari* recounted their walk, first in bits and pieces. Stepping through their own torii gate. A flash, at Ellis’ own borders. Flash! Beyond the borders, walking the spirit realm, making their way to Mistwood.


It was when they arrived that Inari slowed the vision, sharpening the images so that the others might see what they had seen.


*Growth,* they thought, showing the *things* climbing from the tainted, twisted ground.


*Rot, decay,* they whispered, inhaling. As they did, those attached to them like this would be able to *smell* the scent, the twisted stench of the dying.


*See as I see,* they murmured. *Life crushed to dust, to beget life. The cycle of growth, of growing. I know it well. This is twisted. Tainted.*


Those watching saw as Inari had seen, saw the *souls* being milled, being fed to the earth, mingling together.


And they could see, clearly, the growing of new souls. Souls made from the combination, twisted, tainted, *wrong*.


To those not partaking in the vision, they would see Shiori, floating a few inches above the ground and still squarely beneath the fiery torii gate. At their feet stood… Shiro. Except there were two of her, guarding the kami, each one’s movement identical to the other. Shiori’s eyes were wide open, emitting a brighter golden glow that seemed to pulse with the magic flowing through the tethers.


*If souls are missing, look to Mistwood. You will find them there, churned into the earth, milled into the soil, absorbed by these twisted things sprouting from its rotting ground.*


There was a long pause.


*But look closely and see that there is no DEATH.*


Rot, yes. Decay, yes. *Dying*, yes. But no death. Nothing died. Nothing withered into dust. Nothing fell to the final end, not as Inari watched. Things that *should* have died, should have *been* dead, were clinging on in some sick mockery of life, unwilling - or unable - to die.


Slowly, carefully, Inari pulled back their memories, and as they did, the magic of the masks faded, crumbled and rejoined the tethers as they flowed back toward the kami. The torii gate faded away as they reabsorbed their magic, and they dropped back to the floor, their eyes returning to their typical amber hue. Shiro was alone once more, and Shiori sagged, suddenly tired, but a triumphant smile danced upon their lips all the same.


It had been a risk, to intermingle with so many divines… but they had reached in, *knowing* from walking two pantheons, had changed their rules, and they had… succeeded.

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