Prologue: The Whispering Ruins
It starts at dusk. Mist rolls in where the Seiran Woods fall away into craggy waste. As fireflies drift, the main character, Riku Sakamoto, crouches in thick brush. ‘This is the map, Hana. Last chance, you know,’ he murmurs. Hana nods, clinks her lantern against his.()
Legends say the lost city of Aurorin appears once in a hundred years, but sinks away if outsiders draw near. What could be hidden inside those stones? Something goes thump in the dark. Even you, reader, might feel your heart jump. Did you ever hear a breath in ruins?
Two shapes dart by; Riku flattens, grabs his little sister Maru. She’s shivering, but her wild dark eyes suggest she loves this, even if she won’t say so. Her toy rabbit is missing a paw. ‘Stay close,’ he reminds her, but she whispers, ‘I see a light – by that root.’
Main Characters
- Riku Sakamoto: A stubborn teen, exile from Mishiro Village. He seeks his lost mother, vanished while seeking Aurorin during floods six years ago.
- Hana Moriyasu: A puzzle lover and Riku’s only real friend. She loves riddles, hates snakes, is tall, very pale, always serious unless she trips and says, ‘Oops.’
- Maru Sakamoto: Seven, raspy laugh. Riku’s sister, sworn to find their mother, ‘With the wolf cubs or without.’
- The Shadows: Cloaked, no one knows their aims. Sometimes their voices match faces in village lost-and-found posters.
Conflict Setup
Riku believes there’s a door under the black stones shaped like a serpent. Three men from another town have followed them. ‘You know it’s a trap, right?’ Hana says. Doesn’t that ring in your gut, too?
But when he digs, the soil parts and part of a tiled road shows itself – there are glyphs in stone. He stops, lifts old dirt. Riku reads aloud: “Only those cast out will ever rise anew.” For a second, all sounds die, and the air pulses cold. Hana drops her compass. Why did the map shift?
As they clear more brush, Maru touches a crack in the road and the world seems to fold. Shadows lurch out. Lanterns snap off, except one by the tiniest root, glowing softer and softer.
The Descent: Trials of Aurorin
The ground splits. Riku falls, his hand clutching broken tiles. Hana tumbles too. They land in darkness, onto drifted sand and flayed tapestries. Maru screams above ground, swings her lantern hard, and tries to break open the gap so she’ll join them. ‘Don’t leave me, idiots!’
Inside the tomb, vision wavers. Ancient faces flicker on the walls. Some weep blood. Some smile. Riku claws at mud, sick at heart.
A field of objects blocks the way: silver masks, rotten fans, carved bones. Hana urges, ‘Touch only one.’ How would you pick? Riku chooses bone, which feels almost—but not quite—warm. It bites. Hana picks mask; behind her, the tiles rearrange. Maru’s voice echoes from above, growing meter by meter more distant.
The real Aurorin is stranger than all tales they’ve heard. Roots snake along mortar, pulse with faint light. Markings translate differently for Riku than for Hana: “Mother’s past shines. Trust at skin’s price.” How do the words know?
Confrontation: Keeper of the Veil
Dragging Maru behind them—she pried the dirt loose and fell in too—they careen around mosaic pillars, hunted by the Shadows. One stands before murals of floods, picking at missing eyes on ancient kings. Deep in the gloom, a creature dressed in rags (the Keeper) stirs and displays cruel, woody nails.
‘You seek the Living Sun?’ the Keeper asks. Its cloak trembles. Riku blurts, ‘We’re here for my mom.’ The figure weeps dry tears and says, ‘Pay the price—pick memory or fate.’
Each child caught in colored beams. Maru screams, roars, throws dirt—it forces the Keeper to howl and leap away. Tiles rumble, cracks snake by their feet. There are painted hands reaching for Riku. Hana yanks him back. All echoes now cluster. Did you ever freeze when light grew cold?
Development: Memory or Fate
They can go right, deep into the dark mouth of Aurorin, and give up their dearest memory. Or they can depart, but lose the only clue to Riku’s mother. Clock ticks fast. Shadows crowd them hard.
Hana grabs Riku. He sees a mural flickering with his mother’s form. To get close, he must trade something. Maru cries, ‘Don’t ever forget me, Riku!’ He flinches. Picks the tunnel. The tomb drinks part of who he is—a toy he’s had since four burned to ash behind him.
The mural slides away, revealing stairs that spiral—weirder, ink seeps up at the edges. Boots echo. Maru tugs Hana’s shirt, mouth wide to ask: ‘What’s the point, if none remember us when we leave?’
‘Follow, if you want answers,’ teases the mural, adopting Riku’s mom’s shape. The three step into dark. Somewhere ahead, wood beams buckle and dust chokes the air like cold silk.
Cliffhanger
The last thing you see is a silver eye opening in the gloom. Maru grips Riku’s coat—her toy lost, his hope slipping out with old memory.
‘Are you ready to finish what you started?’ whispers a woman’s voice. But is it his mom? Is it something deeper?
A quake starts. Cascades of old earth collapse over the entrance. Are they trapped forever, or will someone answer what’s truly at the core of Aurorin?
What part of you would you risk to find the lost? Could you hold onto your soul as old secrets wake?
