Continuing From Here
In the darkness of night, a figure trudged through an intricate set of inlaid pathways on the keep's mountain face. He carried with him an oil lamp, and it fizzled with a light crackling as it led his way through the darkness. He could see for thousands of meters, but he had grown quite accustomed to seeing the world the same way as any normal person would. In the dark, he still felt alone.
For a while, all that could be heard in the night were crashes of water below. Shifting earth thundered in the distance, leaving only a haunting echo of its presence to be memorialized. Reaching down in his cloak, he grasped his ankles amidst a brief pause. They were tightened under the strain of an ever-rising incline, but he was not poorly disposed by an injury. In the abyss of the night, he could hardly see the ground rising with him. His motion was not adapted to rapidly changing elevations. In his home, it wasn't quite so.
Where in the name of the world's founding elements am I? Am I lost?
He scoped out the area around him, each arm dangling from his sides at ease. The flame within the oil lantern began to flicker, distorting the shadows on the stone wrought hillside. He admired the grandeur of the bedrock, as he continued stepping forth into the night. Here, he felt no fear of being followed. Certainly he was wandering the boundaries of the village for a purpose other than departure. He wanted to understand the Geography of the village first hand, knowing that it would grant a unique advantage in the gambit of his endeavors.
Stepping around a ledge, his vision was blocked by a jutting boulder formation at his side. He could see through the earth, and became aware of a plateau in his reach. A heavy chill fell over him here. Gripping his cloak, he wrapped himself tightly around the wrists. His breath was becoming more visible with each footstep. Taking a moment to observe the scene, he appeared concerned by some element of his surrounding environment.
Something happened close by. I can smell blood in the air.
He lifted his hand from the stone, seeing his gauntlets stained in crimson red. He edged the curve of the cliff, and stepped out into the open of a flat landing. The ground was coated in ice. He felt his feet slide beneath him, and in surprise, fell to the ground. The sound of metal could be heard crashing through the night, as his oil lamp slid off the smoothed surface of the ice. It fell, deep into the chasm of the gates. Anyone around Titan's Keep could have seen the flame fall into the ocean, gliding several hundred feet between the sisters.
Everything went black for a while.
* * *
He felt like he was sleeping in a bed, at first. It was almost as if he had fallen into a dream of being somewhere close to home. In those first nights of the frosts, he laid in his bed sleeplessly. A pit of insomnia had swallowed him, warning him of some great terror in the world. The time of Kirigakure had ended, and all birds that carried messages knew to sail or be marred by the ferocious, all-consuming storm.
The ice was firm. It was fixed in position, stubborn to the point that it seemed unwilling to melt beneath the body of the Sennin from Kirigakure. Even with such a great vital force, the chakra that had summoned this ice was unwilling to wither and break down. His head throbbed, and he lifted himself up as to sit. With one hand, he felt the ground around him for any traces of an answer. Where in the world was he?
Everything in his vision was shaking.
And then, the feeling came to life. Beneath one hand, he could feel an indentation. Formed of fury, it was as if chunks of ice had been torn from the ground to remove something. He crawled to reposition himself, tracing his fingers across the complex ridges of the chakra-formed ice. Beneath his fingers, blood danced in fear. Taking it on to his fingers, he licked it for a taste. Quickly spitting it out, he did the same with the blood from his fingers of the other hand. There was a discretely hidden difference between the two. Different levels of magnesium and iron contributed to a determination in his mind.
On this ground, a sacred battle transpired between the holy rites of man and woman.
He sat, crossing his legs in contemplation. He felt like he couldn't see for the first time in years. Somewhere in the humidity, he could smell the char of explosive jutsu. He pulled himself to his feet once more with great ease, rubbing his forehead to ease the pain of the spill. Anonymous blood trailed down his temple, past his eyes and into his hairline. In the darkness, crimson joined with indigo in an unforgettable dance.
I have to keep moving.
It seemed he was on the verge if uncovering more answers than he initially sought here. He was quickly discovering that he was more lost than ever. He was caught in a snow drift on the mountainside. A chord of fear struck him for an instant, as he felt once again transported back home. No matter what he did, he could not shake the feeling that he was treading a line between two worlds. Snowflakes melted on his skin, washing away the rain of blood that he had soaked himself in. He felt something akin to an animal predator who had just encountered shreds of carrion waste left for his thirsty pleasure.
There were no rays of light shed from any moon nor star. The overcast refracted the droning lights of Stone Village into the harbors and waterways in the gates. Suspicious of the night, Hira quickened his pace away from the battlefield. Feeling the sensation of having an out-of-body experience, he was certain there was purpose to his fateful approach of that frozen field.
The battle must have happened just earlier this day.
He removed a few phials from his bag, trapping beads of blood from each hand into them. Sealing the corks in them, he dropped each one into a special holster he had created for them. It was bizarre employing tracking methods such as these for purposes outside of the protection of his nation. Perhaps, however, in some way he still was holding true to his words. As he moved further into the hills, Stone Village was becoming more visible. He was close to his temporary dwelling.
Finally.
The hermit crept inwards, departing the creased crevasses of the bedrock. It felt something akin to a maze, where only a courageous heart could drive one out of its labyrinthine clutch.
[MFT]
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