The night was cool, and the wind carried the rustle of leaves through the narrow alleys.

  Five men stumbled through the darkness, panting, drenched in sweat, driven by raw, naked fear.

  They no longer ran toward any particular destination—

  only away.

  Away from her.

  Away from the glowing eyes that had pierced them like spears.

  Away from the apparition that shattered every human notion of reality.

  They reached a small, remote shrine, its wooden torii gates looming darkly against the night sky.

  The few lanterns threw flickering shadows across the stone courtyard, and an old priest with a white beard was sweeping the grounds as the men burst in.

  "Please! Protect us!" one cried, his voice ragged with panic.

  The priest lifted his gaze calmly.

  Before him stood five dust-covered, trembling figures, each breath a struggle.

  "What happened?" he asked, his voice steady.

  "A goddess!" one gasped.

  "An oni!" another shouted.

  "She cursed us!" cried a third.

  The priest frowned.

  "Slowly," he urged. "Tell me exactly what you saw."

  Their words tumbled out like a wild, rushing stream:

  "She was enormous!"

  "Black hair, glowing green eyes!"

  "She appeared out of nowhere—just looked at us!"

  "We could do nothing—she wasn’t human!"

  The priest listened in silence, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

  Then he spoke, voice still calm:

  "You are exhausted. Your senses deceive you. You should rest before—"

  "No!" one man screamed, his eyes wide with terror.

  "We must keep moving! We must warn everyone!"

  And without waiting for a reply, they fled again—staggering into the night.

  The priest watched them go, long and silent.

  Then he turned back to his shrine and murmured a quiet prayer to the gods.

  The Fire of Rumor The five men moved from village to village, shrine to shrine.

  Everywhere, they told their story.

  And with each telling, the story grew.

  In some versions, the apparition was an oni, a demon from ancient legends.

  In others, she was a messenger of Amaterasu.

  Some claimed she had wielded dark magic; others swore she had driven them away with a single gaze.

  The rumor grew like fire, devouring everything it touched.

  Priests heard it and spread it.

  Merchants carried the tale down dusty roads to distant cities.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Travelers whispered it in inns.

  Guards muttered it on night watches.

  A being of superhuman presence—appearing from nowhere and vanishing just as suddenly.

  A sign from the gods?

  A curse?

  Or something that had no name yet?

  The Wrong Ears In a larger city, along one of the trade routes, the men finally found a busy shrine.

  They threw themselves to their knees, begging the priests for protection.

  "Bless us!" one cried.

  "She will find us! She cursed our souls!"

  Their screams echoed across the courtyard, causing worshippers to stop and priests to frown.

  It didn’t take long for guards to arrive.

  "What’s going on here?" the captain barked, his voice sharp as a blade.

  An older priest stepped forward, bowing slightly.

  "These men are causing unrest. They claim to be haunted by... a goddess or a demon."

  The captain snorted dismissively.

  "Drunkards?"

  "No," the priest murmured softly.

  "They are truly afraid."

  The captain waved a hand.

  "Enough. Seize them. They disturb the peace."

  The men protested, but they stood no chance against the guards.

  They were dragged away.

  But the rumor they had unleashed could no longer be contained.

  The Halls of Power In the halls of the provincial lords, the story finally reached the ears of the mighty.

  Daimyō heard of it—and laughed.

  "Hysterical peasants," they scoffed.

  "Superstition," they declared.

  "Nothing but foolish talk from simple men."

  Most brushed the rumor aside like dust on an old carpet.

  But then it reached the wrong man.

  The daimyo of the province where Edo lay.

  He did not laugh.

  His face remained expressionless as his advisor reported:

  "A towering woman with glowing eyes who appeared out of nowhere and drove warriors into panic?"

  The daimyo tapped his fingers slowly against the tabletop.

  "Where exactly did this happen?"

  "In Edo, my lord."

  A long silence.

  Then a soft exhale.

  "A rumor like this is dangerous," the daimyo said at last.

  His voice turned cold as steel.

  "It does not matter whether it’s true. It undermines order. It sows doubt. It weakens authority."

  His advisor nodded slowly.

  "So you wish to act?"

  "Yes. Immediately."

  The Riders Depart Before dawn, several mounted men left the daimyo’s fortress.

  Their dark armor gleamed faintly in the first light of day, swords at their sides, eyes hard and unyielding.

  Their destination was clear:

  Edo.

  They were to find answers.

  And if the story was nothing but foolishness—

  they would ensure it was never told again.

  As the sun slowly crept over the hills, the rumor continued to spread—

  like smoke that knew no walls.

  But no one yet knew the truth.

  The truth was far more dangerous than any lie.

  Because Tessa was real.

  And Edo was about to receive visitors.

  End of Chapter 25

  Thanks for reading this far. It’s either a sign of loyalty, curiosity, or a tragic lack of viable escape routes—but I’ll take it.

  Unless I'm kidnapped by a rebellious muse, a grumpy bear, or the ever-distracting entity known as Reality, there’ll be more soon.

  Mike is muttering in my head again, Tessa’s brushing blood off her shoulder, and somewhere in the distance, cake is being sacrificed.

  We call that progress.

  Until the next chapter—where things will definitely happen that I didn’t plan, but the characters apparently knew about since page twelve.

  If you laughed, cringed, or shook your head: mission accomplished.

  If you're hungry—grab a snack. Goddesses need sugar, and so do readers.

  Stay chaotic.