The glow had faded.
But Yor still stood there, breathing heavily, staring at the stone door like it might open on its own. His hand trembled slightly — not from fear, but from something deeper. A sense of being watched. Of being remembered.
The Hollow Spine was silent.
Too silent.
Not even the wind dared to move.
Yor took one step back.
Then another.
But before he could turn—
> Snap.
A sound behind him. Not loud. Just enough.
His body froze.
The snap wasn't like a twig breaking. It was sharper. Controlled.
Like someone had stepped exactly where they meant to.
He turned around slowly, his breath catching in his throat.
At first, he saw nothing but the mist between the dead trees.
Then—movement.
A figure stepped into view, wrapped in a long black coat that dragged across the ground. The hood was up, hiding most of their face. But their presence… it was cold. Heavy. Like the Hollow Spine itself had shaped a person.
Yor didn't move.
Neither did the figure.
For a long moment, they just stared at each other.
> "You shouldn't be here," the figure said.
The voice was soft. Calm. But it carried weight, like it had echoed across centuries.
> "I… I didn't mean to," Yor replied. "I just… I was looking…"
The figure tilted their head slightly. "For what?"
> "I don't know," Yor admitted. "Anything. Something to help her. My sister…"
He stopped himself.
Why was he explaining to a stranger?
But something about the figure made him feel like a child again. Like they already knew more than he could say.
> "The door called to you," the figure said after a moment. "That is not a small thing."
Yor looked back at the door. "What is it?"
The figure took a slow step forward, then another.
> "A lock," they said. "And a memory."
Yor frowned. "A memory of what?"
The figure stopped walking. Now only a few feet away.
> "Of who you were… and what you could become."
Yor's chest tightened. "Then… you know me?"
Silence.
Then, the figure slowly lowered their hood.
Revealing a face marked by time.
A woman — maybe thirty, maybe older. Her hair was dark, her eyes sharp, like steel that had been tempered by fire and silence.
But her expression… it held something close to sorrow.
> "I knew your bloodline," she said softly. "Long before you were born."
Yor took a step back. "My bloodline? You mean my ancestors?"
> "Yes. The ones who once stood where monsters fell. The ones who lit the dark with fire in their hands."
He felt dizzy. Like her words were pushing open something in his mind he wasn't ready to see.
> "You don't remember yet," she said. "But it's starting."
> "Starting… what?"
The woman looked past him, to the spiral on the door.
> "The world is waking up, Yor Satoshi. And with it, so will you. But not all things that wake are kind."
Yor felt the cold air sink deeper into his skin.
> "Who are you?" he asked.
She didn't answer at first.
Then, turning away, she whispered:
> "The one who waited."
Yor blinked. "Waited for what?"
She glanced over her shoulder, eyes darker now.
> "For you to take the path… or to turn back."
Yor stared at her, trying to understand.
> "I can't go back," he said quietly. "My sister… she's dying. And I have nothing left."
The woman looked at him for a long moment.
Then, for the first time, she stepped aside from the door.
> "Then listen closely," she said. "If you cross the threshold behind that stone, you will not return the same. Power comes with a price. And memory—true memory—can burn."
> "Will it help her?" Yor asked.
She didn't answer.
Instead, she placed a hand over his heart.
> "Only you can decide what you're willing to lose… to protect what little remains."
And just like that, she turned and began walking away, disappearing into the fog as if she had never been there.
Yor stood frozen.
The spiral on the door had stopped glowing. But it still pulsed faintly, like it was breathing.
He turned his gaze to the door once more.
And his heart whispered:
> "Not yet."
So he didn't open it.
Not today.
But he didn't leave either.
He sat in front of the door, back against the stone, waiting.
For understanding.
For courage.
---
Back in Sector 13, Yuna stirred in her sleep.
"Her voice was faint again — like when the rain had fallen."
And in the shadows of the room, Hiro looked toward the window.
The sky was still gray.
But something had shifted.
A breath had been taken.
A storm was watching.
And it was waiting to begin.
---