CHAPTER 32 — "THE WHISPERING SCROLL"
The shrine's stale air pressed on their lungs as Ashura, Temari, and Shoto moved deeper. Faded murals covered the walls — warriors kneeling, celestial gates opening, flames and shadows frozen in motion. Dust danced like drifting ash in the faint torchlight.
At the far end of the chamber rested a stone pedestal layered in moss. On it lay a scroll. Unlike everything else, it seemed untouched by time.
Ashura stepped forward. Temari instinctively placed a hand on his shoulder.
Temari (soft):
"…Be careful."
Ashura nodded and lifted the scroll. The air shifted — the shrine seemed to exhale. A low whisper brushed against Ashura's ears.
> "You finally returned…"
He tightened his grip, but showed no outward reaction. Carefully, they unrolled the parchment. The ink shimmered faintly, almost alive.
The first section depicted an ancient warrior bathed in starlight, holding a weapon identical to Ashura's artifact, standing before a massive serpent-like shadow. Symbols showed worlds consumed, people kneeling, flames… then silence.
Temari (reading aloud):
> "From heavens fell the relic of resolve…
Chosen blood shall wield it —
Or be devoured by it."
Shoto frowned.
"…Devoured? What does that mean?"
Temari continued:
> "Long ago, its host shattered mountains and parted the sky.
But pride birthed calamity — nations turned to ash.
The host was sealed away,
Along with his wish to rewrite fate."
Ashura's jaw clenched. Temari looked uneasy.
Temari:
"…Rewrite fate? What does that mean?"
Ashura didn't answer, but the faint throb of the artifact in his body pulsed harder.
They moved to the next section — simpler in art, symbolic. A faceless figure stood at a crossroads:
One path — light spears descending, people rising behind him.
The other — a black sun spreading across the world, bodies falling like petals.
Shoto:
"…So basically, save the world or destroy it. Pretty dramatic."
Temari glanced at Ashura — the path might very well lie with him.
Ashura (quiet):
"…Anything else?"
Temari scanned the last lines:
> "Beware the smiling serpent.
Neither friend nor foe…
It guides, then devours.
Its venom wears a human face."
A chill crawled down Shoto's spine. Temari lowered the scroll slowly, eyes flicking to Ashura with worry.
Temari:
"…Does it mean someone is after the artifact… pretending to help?"
Ashura:
"Someone always is."
Deep in his mind, the memory of Haruto's smile replayed. Too perfect. Too soft. Too controlled.
Ashura (thinking):
"…We keep this between us. Not a word to anyone in the village."
A faint crackle echoed beyond the chamber door. Shoto spun — nothing but stillness.
Temari:
"…Someone's here."
Ashura folded the scroll, calm, focused.
Ashura:
"Let's move. We've learned enough."
Just as they turned, torchlight flickered unnaturally. A whisper:
> "Wonderful…"
Too quiet for the others to notice. Ashura's eyes sharpened, silent and alert.
He tucked the scroll beneath his cloak, stepping toward the exit — when a slow clap echoed. Clap… clap… clap.
From the darkness, a familiar silhouette emerged: Haruto. But his smile stretched too wide, stiff, hungry. He glided forward.
Haruto (voice cold, precise):
"Splendid… I didn't expect you to find it so quickly."
His skin began to peel — not bleed, but slide like wet clay. A paler, serpentine face emerged beneath: sharp eyes, slit pupils, a smile that didn't belong to any human.
Temari:
"…He's not Haruto…"
The creature laughed, wiping the discarded skin from its cheek.
??? (mocking):
"Haruto? No… I borrowed him. Convenient."
Mist-like movement, then vanished. The chamber fell silent.
Ashura (thinking):
Smiling serpent… human-faced venom… prophecy's warning… "…We leave. Now."
Outside the chamber, the shrine's shadows seemed to breathe. Ashura's grip on the scroll tightened.
Ashura (thinking):
"…He's already inside the fog… waiting."
Shoto's hand lingered on his blade.
Shoto:
"…You think he's gone?"
Temari didn't answer. She scanned the air, sensing movement too subtle for human eyes.
> Something watched them, patient, and hungry.
Ashura's shadow flickered unnaturally, twitching as if it had a mind of its own.
Ashura (thinking):
"…Not gone. Waiting."