Morning arrived quietly. A pale, ashen light crept across the fields surrounding Edo, casting the nd in a silver veil. Wisps of mist danced over the ground like ghostly fingers, as if trying to hold the vilge in pce. The sun was little more than a dull circle on the horizon—as if even it hesitated to rise on this particur day.

  In the steward’s house, the daimyō’s men were already seated, steam curling up from their cups of tea. The scent of green tea mingled with the chill of morning and the silent tension that hung like an invisible thread through the rooms. The conversation from the previous night had found no conclusion—only a pause. Today, it would end. And the outcome would decide whether Edo remained a quiet vilge… or turned to ash.

  Himoto sat as he had the night before, calm in his pce. His hands were folded on the table, his gaze composed, almost indifferent. But behind the mask, his mind was racing.

  The captain of the outsiders—his name never spoken, his eyes never smiling—leaned forward slightly.

  “We continue our discussion from yesterday, Himoto-dono.”

  The steward gave a slight nod.

  “Of course. I’m sure you still have questions.”

  “Not many,” the captain replied curtly. “Only the one that matters: What exactly happened that night at the shrine?”

  Silence spread—heavy, oppressive.

  In the next room, Aiko was just setting water to boil. The sound of the kettle was a soft comfort amidst the rising tension. She froze for a heartbeat at the question—just long enough to betray that she had heard every word.

  Outside, near the shrine, Miko suddenly halted—as if the question had passed straight through the walls. Her fingers hovered over an offering, and she pressed her lips tightly together.

  And in the shadows near the forest’s edge, invisible to all but perhaps the gods themselves, Tessa lurked.

  “Here it comes,” she murmured softly.

  At the shrine, everything seemed normal. The air smelled of freshly cut grass, and the wind pyed gently with the banners on the torii gates. But Miko could feel it—a chill creeping up her spine.

  Two of the daimyō’s men stood not far from her. They said nothing, appearing to inspect the structure, occasionally pointing to architectural details. But they were no admirers.

  They were hunters.

  Miko moved with poise, every action controlled. She knelt, performed her prayers with the same dignity as every other morning. But within her, a storm raged.

  Why are they watching? What do they expect? Do they want me to slip up?

  Tessa watched the scene, arms crossed, her body almost fused with the shadow of a gnarled tree.

  “They’re trying to provoke a reaction,” she growled under her breath.

  Mike, ever the level-headed voice in her mind, responded calmly.

  “They’re testing whether they can squeeze anything out of her.”

  Tessa’s fingers slid over the hilt of Frostmore, hanging at her waist—cold as the steel of a bde she’d already drawn in her mind.

  “Should I make them disappear?” she asked, her voice sweet as poison.

  Mike was silent for a beat. Then, tactical as always:

  “Not yet. First, we hear what they really intend.”

  In the steward’s house, the silence held. The captain had asked his question—and now waited. No pressure, no impatience. But every breath said the same thing: He expected something.

  Himoto’s hands tightened slightly. Then he spoke, calm and measured.

  “As I told you before, Captain. The people here are devout. If something happened at the shrine, it was a sign from the gods.”

  But the captain was not so easily misled.

  “Perhaps,” he said slowly. “Or perhaps it was something else.”

  His gaze narrowed—razor-sharp.

  “Something that could threaten the established order.”

  There it was. The mask had fallen.

  Tessa closed her eyes in her hiding pce.

  “There it is.”

  Mike sighed.

  “If they believe Edo threatens their authority, they won’t just walk away.”

  Tessa let out a quiet snort—a dark sound.

  “Then maybe it’s time they learned what fear really feels like.”

  The cave was cold. Even the morning mist had crept inside, draping itself in thin yers through the air. The fmes of the small fire trembled, as if they, too, sensed what was coming.

  Tessa stepped slowly toward the armor.

  It still stood there—bck as the deepest night, untouched by the world’s light. The helmet looked like the face of a demon—empty, waiting, ready to devour whatever light approached.

  Mike said nothing as she approached. And his silence spoke louder than any words.

  “These men need to believe they’ve looked death in the face,” he said at st.

  Tessa nodded. Her hand glided across the cold metal, fingers tracing the runes etched into the steel—ancient symbols, full of power and forgetting.

  “Then let’s not disappoint them.”

  End of Chapter – A Shadow Over EdoThe daimyō’s men had made their decision. And Tessa had made hers. Tonight, Edo would witness death—face to face.