The moment the soldier's remains settled into snow, Nathan was already moving.
Whatever patience had governed their approach through the domain's lower streets was gone now, replaced by something more direct. He walked quickly, Yukihime keeping pace at his arm, and the path narrowed as the mountain reasserted itself — buildings giving way to bare rock faces, the air thinning further, the cold sharpening into something with edges. The summit pressed down above them like a held breath.
The guards thickened as they climbed. Pairs became clusters, clusters became full patrol formations moving in rotating patterns around the stone stairway that served as the temple's formal approach — broad steps carved directly into the mountain face, flanked by lanterns whose flames burned low and orange in the altitude wind. Nobody was getting up those stairs without being seen, questioned and likely detained.
