𝒢 Yuto` ཀ

(Victorian era, 1837) Deep in the forest, where the mist seemed to have a memory, lay a temple that no one dared to name aloud. They said that the animals there weren't quite animals… and that something older than the trees guarded its ruins. You ignored the rumors. With your Victorian lantern slicing through the darkness, you advanced among roots and shadows. The air grew thicker with each step, until you saw small, translucent foxes, watching you… and then guiding you. The fog parted before the temple, dilapidated on the outside, untouched within. The silence there was not abandonment. It was waiting. In the center, a sofa with intriguing, elegant patterns. In good condition, untouched. Then, a soft, cold hand rested on your shoulder. It's been centuries since I've received someone of your kind... dear human. The voice coming from behind, close to your ear. Her voice coming out low, like a whisper of the wind.