A crackling fire burned brightly in the hearth. Fire irons were laid erectly on a rack seated beside a throne-like chair fashioned with gargantuan tusks. Drums and flutes played faintly in the quarters of Hatsukochi’s warden as he sat on his throne, staring at the flames like a divining seer.

The wall where the hearth was placed was vast and filled with trophies from Zhaohu’s conquest. Seven taxidermies of heads, each of different Guren, occupied the space on the wall—four on top of three. The heads were aligned symmetrically but because they were uneven, a vacant space made it incomplete.

Shinsou Yakusai stared at his prizes disdainfully, muttering inaudible words that sounded like a litany of profane curses. He eyed each head as though they were mocking him with their perpetual faces of bared teeth and piercing glowers.

Shinsou was barely at the peak of his mortality yet the twenty years he spent victorious could never compensate the agony of war. His coat of fur thinned and shed every day until he was no longer the wolf of night but a mere dog afflicted with scurvy. If not for the symbols embroidered on his garments, he would not be known to the lords and royals outside of Hatsukochi. He stopped attending Zhaohu’s summits and instead sent his son to be his proxy.

“I defeated all of you,” Shinsou whispered manically. His eyes twitched and his voice shook, each syllable invoked with much difficulty. “You’re all weak. Fight me like you have twenty years ago.”

Whispers of response filled Shinsou’s ears, seeming to come from the stationary heads mounted on the wall. He pressed his hands against his ears, shaking the voices away but to no avail. It filled his head to no end, reminding him of the battle of Long Zhou. They were victorious but the heavenly guardians did not part him without a lingering curse. It was their voices that casted Shinsou’s affliction which he heard for the past twenty years and the one he was hearing now.

He curled on his chair, hitting his head on the backrest until loud knocks came from his chamber door.

“Leave!” Shinsou exclaimed. “Have I not made it clear that I am not to be disturbed during nightfall?”

The door unbolted and so came in a wolf that would be Shinsou’s exact likeness had it not been for the curse. The wolf’s coat of fur was ebony and gray under the mouth and down. His eyes were rubies in the firelight.

Shinsou calmed down at the sight of his son, still wearing the festive garments of the celebration in the village. “Suirou, what brings you in my chambers?” His voice returned to its usual frailty. “It’s the celebration of your birth. Go enjoy the festival.”

The young wolf, Suirou, went to his father’s side and bent down. The metallic scent of alcohol and incense still clung to his peach robe. “There is an urgent news, Father. One of the villagers from Akako claims to have seen an exorcist.”

Shinsou stared into space before reacting accordingly. “Exorcist?” he repeated and caught a whiff of Suirou’s breath.

Suirou confirmed with a nod.

“There aren’t any exorcists, anymore, my boy. You must have been drinking a lot again, I smell,” Shinsou said half-mindedly. He turned his head to the fire, eyes growing large and small. He dismissed his previous statement a while later. “An exorcist…what did the villager say?”

Suirou rubbed his father’s shoulders, hoping to ease him whatever way he can. “He said that the exorcist killed half of Shiba’s men. Then she resurrected them and gave them to the sky.”

Shinsou spaced out.

“Father…Father.” Suirou tugged his father’s shoulder.

Shinsou shook his head and got up. “What else?” he asked. “We must write a detailed report to the emperor, Zhaohu, at once.”

“She had a snow leopard companion.” Suirou added.

“Snow leopard?” Shinsou’s voice changed. The frailty in his voice vanished and his actions hastened. “Could you describe to me what the snow leopard looked like?” he asked.

“I cannot. But perhaps the villager can.”

“Very well. Have him brought here at once.”

“Certainly, Father.” Suirou marched out of the room.

Shinsou pulled back his chair and added tinder for the flames. The heat was burning at face level, singeing his whiskers but it was just the right amount of heat for the numbing wolf. Then he looked at the mounted heads on the wall with an unsettling smile.

When Suirou returned with the villager, Shinsou welcomed them warmly.

“Suirou, there is a feather and ink on my table. Grab a parchment and write the report.” Shinsou said.

Suirou nodded and retrieved the materials for scribing.

“Have a seat.” Shinsou directed the villager to his magnificent yet intimidating chair. The wolf warden merely pulled the footstool dangerously close to the hearth and sat down, feeling the heat bite his back.

The villager was unsure at first but did not refuse after seeing the wolf warden’s glower. He sat on the edge of the seat, afraid of possibly staining the fur mats. He was covered by Shinsou’s shadow which made it difficult for him to surmise the wolf completely.

“You look young,” Shinsou said. His voice was casual, no trace of paranoia. “Can’t be more than thirty years old so if I were to guess, you were eight or nine years old when Emperor Zhaohu liberated the world.”

The villager swallowed. “Y-yes, my lord. You are most accurate.”

Shinsou raised a brow. “Accurate, you say. So which one is it, eight or nine?”

“Eight, my lord.” The villager answered, shaking .

“You must have been really smart to live this long. That, I commend.” Shinsou got up and stepped away from the fire. An aroma of burnt cloth wafted in the room. “And I reckon this is another smart decision for your survival.”

Shinsou bent down to level the villager, giving him a clear view of what Shinsou had become over the years.

The terrified young man was perspiring rapidly. Each of his breaths was apparent from the heavy motion of his chest, bobbing up and down.

“There is no reason to be afraid. You are doing us a great favor. And to ease your worries, let us first negotiate the reward for your loyalty before we proceed with questions.”

“The mark of immunity,” the villager said immediately. “I will not ask for a place in your village. I will work hard for my belongings. I only ask that I be allowed to work and own.”

“Hmm. The mark of immunity cannot be given freely. It was bestowed to the humans that pledged allegiance to Emperor Zhaohu twenty years ago and only their bloodline may acquire it.”

The villager averted his gaze from the repulsive wolf.

“But perhaps I could give you my own mark of immunity. However, beyond the borders of Hatsukochi, it will not work.”

“It is more than I could ask for.”

“Indeed. Now, tell me what you saw.”

The villager began with the exorcist but Shinsou dismissed the part. He was only interested in the snow leopard.

“His build is fairly large and has brutal strength. He had blue eyes and peculiar markings on the face.”

“Peculiar, you say?” Shinsou repeated and tipped the villager’s head up to the taxidermies on the wall.

“Do you see the tiger?” Shinsou asked. “Are his markings, perhaps, similar to that one’s?”

The villager nodded to agree. “His face was covered by a conical hat but I did see through it. The markings are not the same but closely similar.”

“Wonderful. You are of great help. Now, I would have you wait outside my chamber as I inform my son of your reward.”

The villager got up immediately, bowed to Shinsou and rushed out of the door.

Suirou got up from his seat with a rolled parchment in hand. “We did not get that much information about the exorcist or any at all.”

“An exorcist is an exorcist, my son. As long as you know where it hailed. And our exorcist came from the north if she was able to resurrect the dead and send them to the realm of shadows. That’s all you need.”

“I’ll have this delivered to a birdmaster personally. As for the villager.” Suirou leaned close to whisper to his father’s ear. “I trust you want me to kill him? For a traitor, he demands much.”

“Oh no,” Shinsou whispered. “Not yet at least. If the other villagers see that he is well-rewarded then they will likely follow his example. We’ll have our eyes on Akako.”

“And what if they become too much?”

“Cull them.”

Suirou smiled. “Oh before I leave, Father, how shall I present the mark of immunity?”

“Relay the message to our territories. We could use all the snitches in Yofuchi and Kumokage. Have a smith design a branding iron and mark their foreheads.”