Listening to the townspeople as they drank and became increasingly loose-lipped, Noah became more and more certain of three things.

The first was that while the priest had written to him after a string of mysterious disappearances and deaths that included even the youngest of Silverrun’s townsfolk, this wasn't the first time the town had faced such a thing. As the townspeople got further and further into their cups, the stories continued to pour out one after another. The reports of disappearances and unnatural deaths spanned centuries—long enough that the people had become accustomed to a certain level of misfortune.

The second was that the land was notably absent of life and, in many ways, hostile to what life remained. Nature itself seemed to have abandoned Silverrun. The forests were thinning. The wildlife was scarce, and game animals even scarcer. Cultivation was a fruitless endeavor—no matter how many times the townspeople tried or the techniques they used, their crops yielded low harvests.

And now, even the people were beginning to yield to the force that was draining life from the mountain. Death rampaged indiscriminately through the town, felling children and elders alike with no identifiable causes.

The third and final thing that Noah could be certain of was that the only reason the priest had taken it upon himself to involve an outsider like Noah was because everything that had transpired in the past several months exceeded Silverrun’s ‘normal’ amount of tragedy. But there was nothing normal about Silverrun, or the land it was built upon. People—or hell, even a whole freight train—could easily vanish into thin air here, never to be seen again.

There were supernatural forces at work here. Ones that had spun completely off-balance and out of control. Left unattended, they would eventually wipe Silverrun and its people off the map.

“Why did you wait this long?” Noah asked, turning to the priest.

“This kind of stuff has been going on for as long as I can remember. Up until it started getting worse over this past year, we didn’t think much of it,” the priest admitted. “If not for the recent deaths and disappearances, we might’ve just kept going.”

“Well, you were right to reach out,” Noah said. Something was very, very wrong on the other side of Silverrun—in the Spirit Realm.

If the Mortal Realm housed mankind and the flora and fauna of Earth, the Spirit Realm was its counterpart in which spirits, yokai, and gods dwelled. The realms were two sides of a single coin, interconnected but not overlapping. Imbalance in one had a direct impact on the other, even if that impact wasn’t immediately visible.

Most people could go their whole lives without ever knowing there was more than one reality. Noah was not most people. He was one of the few remaining shamans born into the Astraeus family, the world’s oldest and most powerful spiritual clan, and the ambassadors of the Mortal Realm.

“So you’ll do it? You’ll really help us?” the priest asked, turning to Noah as the other patrons and townsfolk continued to chatter amongst themselves. His eyes were awash with a mixture of hope and apprehension as he faced the shaman.

“From what I’ve heard, I’m fairly confident that all of this is stemming from the Spirit Realm.” Noah sighed heavily, crossing his arms as he leaned back in the rickety chair. “Things are a little farther gone than I would have liked, but if someone needs to intervene here—which they do—it might as well be me.”

Noah was morally obligated to put the needs of the many above his own wants and wishes. It was part and parcel with being born into the Astraeus Clan. He, like every shaman who had come before him, had been raised with the sole purpose of honoring the clan’s shamanic legacy and the responsibilities that came with it. Responsibilities like the one that had drawn him all the way out here, to investigate the rash of unusual activity in the remote mountain settlement of Silverrun.

Silverrun’s priest had waited until the last possible second to seek external help, when things had already come to a tipping point. If someone had brought the issue to the Astraeus Clan at the beginning, or hell, even just twenty years ago, it would have been an easier fix. Now, things had already spiraled well out of control. And Noah’s hands were tied.

There was no way out of this, except to address this in the Spirit Realm. But that suited Noah just fine. “In any case, of course I’ll help. After all, it’s my sacred duty as an envoy of the Astraeus family,” Noah said wryly. “I know just the ceremony for this.”

“Thank you so much.” The priest breathed a sigh of relief, his face erupting in a grin. “You can’t imagine how much this means to us.”

“Us?” Noah echoed, casting a dubious glance at the now-raucous townspeople.

The priest had the wherewithal to look embarrassed.

However necessary it was for the greater good, intervening in affairs between the Mortal and Spirit Realms was a thankless task. By nature, it was work that was kept hidden and conducted in secrecy. It was necessary in order to protect the people’s peace of mind. It was much easier for them to look away and chalk things up to mere superstition than to bear witness to the dirty work it took to protect their status quo.

The lively crowd was now too thoroughly drunk and caught up with sharing stories amongst themselves to pay him any heed. They were loud and boisterous, finding comfort in each other’s company. And distracted now that they had both become accustomed to his presence and made quick work of the beer.

He was certain that not one person in the Timbers—save for the priest—would remember his face or his name in a few years’ time, let alone know or understand what he intended to do for them.

“Don’t worry. I really don’t mind,” Noah said, his lips curling into a half-smile. Recognition wasn’t something that Noah needed—or even deserved, given his past mistakes. “The elders should have already sent any ceremonial materials that we need to open the gate to your shrine. There’s only one that serves this area, correct?”

“Yes, that’s correct. My family has maintained the mountain god’s shrine for generations,” the priest said. “There are no others here.”

“Perfect,” Noah said, nodding towards the door. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”

The shrine was about what Noah expected of a small, mountain village. It was only accessible by a steep climb up stone steps that had been carved into the mountainside, but long since worn smooth by time. There were no railings, only a thick bamboo forest on either side of the steps. The occasional bamboo pole was snapped, ostensibly by shrine visitors who had slipped and caught themselves.

At the top of the steep, aged stone staircase was a torii gate with red paint that was half-stripped by the elements. As Noah passed under it, he looked up, expecting to feel some shift in the energy as he stepped onto the flagstone approach and entered the shrine grounds… but there was none.

“Is it always like this?” he asked the priest, who was leading the way.

“Like what?” the priest echoed, glancing back over his shoulder at Noah.

“No… it’s nothing. Nevermind,” Noah said, shaking his head. It wasn’t unusual for a priest not to possess strong spiritual powers or mana affinity. And, even among the shamans of the Astraeus Clan, Noah’s was second only to the Clan Elders.

Whoever the deity was who had once been enshrined here, Noah couldn’t feel their presence. It was confirmation that something wasn’t right with the Spirit Realm here. Noah should have been able to feel some evidence of their presence if they were here—and any deity worth their salt should be.

The flagstone path leading up to the shrine itself was well-maintained, but undeniably aged. Twin stone figures were perched on the left and right of the footpath, both partially obscured by the moss that had gathered on the recessed stone. Any of the guardian totems’ identifying details had long since been eroded.

Noah reached out to touch the stone as he passed, but the totems felt as empty as the shrine grounds. Whatever sacred power had once dwelled on these lands was gone, leaving nothing but eerie stillness in its wake.

Noah frowned. “How much do you know about the origins of this shrine?” he asked.

For an active shrine, something about this place felt… empty. It wasn’t right.