Morning came quietly.
Too quietly.
Musha sat beneath the old cedar tree behind the house, her wooden staff resting across her knees.
She had barely slept.
Every time she closed her eyes, she heard the same voice.
White Shadow.
Then the deeper voice.
I remember your mother.
Musha touched the blindfold covering her eyes.
Her fingers trembled.
She had lived with darkness for eight years.
She had learned to navigate the world through sound, smell, touch, and vibration.
She had accepted that she would never know what her mother’s face looked like.
She had accepted that she would never hear her mother’s voice.
But she had never accepted not knowing who her mother really was.
Footsteps approached.
Slow.
Familiar.
Grandma Hana.
Musha didn’t turn.
“You knew.”
Hana stopped.
“Good morning to you too.”
“You knew about the dragon.”
Silence.
Musha’s fingers tightened around her staff.
“You knew there was something beneath that mountain.”
Hana sighed.
“Yes.”
“And you knew it could speak to me.”
“I suspected.”
“You suspected?”
Musha stood.
“You knew enough to be afraid.”
Hana didn’t answer.
Musha stepped toward her.
“Yesterday, you told me the power inside me was passed down through generations.”
“Yes.”
“From my mother?”
“Partly.”
Musha tilted her head.
“What does that mean?”
Hana looked at the blindfold.
“It means there are things about your birth that I should have told you years ago.”
Musha’s heart began pounding.
“Then tell me now.”
Hana looked away.
“I can’t.”
Musha’s expression hardened.
“Why?”
“Because knowing the truth could put you in greater danger.”
“I’m already in danger.”
Hana said nothing.
“There’s a dragon under the mountain.”
“I know.”
“It called me White Shadow.”
“I heard it.”
“It said it remembered my mother.”
Hana’s eyes closed.
Musha stepped closer.
“And you’re still telling me I shouldn’t know?”
Hana’s voice was barely a whisper.
“Some truths don’t free you, Musha.”
She opened her eyes.
“Some truths hunt you.”
Hana walked toward the house.
Musha followed.
Inside, Hana crossed the room and opened an old wooden chest hidden beneath a table.
Musha had seen that chest before.
She had never been allowed to touch it.
Hana removed a small iron key from around her neck.
Musha heard the lock click.
The lid opened.
The smell of old paper and incense filled the room.
Musha stood still.
“What is that?”
“Your mother’s belongings.”
Musha’s breath caught.
Hana reached inside.
She pulled out a folded piece of white cloth.
Then a small wooden box.
And finally—
A stone.
Musha immediately felt it.
The same strange vibration she had felt beneath the mountain.
Her entire body stiffened.
“That.”
Hana held the stone tightly.
“Don’t touch it.”
“What is it?”
“A sacred stone.”
“Where did it come from?”
“Your mother.”
Musha stepped forward.
“My mother had it when I was born?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Hana hesitated.
“Because she believed it could protect you.”
Musha slowly extended her hand.
Hana pulled the stone away.
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
“Because it reacts to you.”
Musha frowned.
“How?”
Hana placed the stone on the table.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then Musha moved closer.
The stone began to vibrate.
A faint white glow appeared inside it.
Musha froze.
Hana stared.
The glow became brighter.
A thin line of light traveled across the stone.
Musha whispered:
“It knows me.”
Hana nodded.
“It has always known you.”
Musha swallowed.
“How?”
Hana’s eyes filled with sadness.
“Because your mother used it when you were born.”
Musha’s breathing stopped.
“What did she do?”
Hana looked at the stone.
“She placed it against your chest.”
Musha waited.
“And?”
Hana’s voice trembled.
“You were dying.”
Musha’s expression changed.
“What?”
“You weren’t breathing.”
The room suddenly felt colder.
“Your heart stopped.”
Musha touched her chest.
“No.”
“Your mother refused to let you go.”
“What happened?”
Hana stared into the distance.
“She begged the stone to save you.”
Musha’s voice became quiet.
“And it did?”
Hana nodded.
“Your heart started beating again.”
Musha stared at the stone.
“But…”
Hana’s expression darkened.
“Something else happened.”
“What?”
“The room filled with white light.”
Musha’s skin prickled.
“White Shadow?”
Hana nodded.
“That was the first time anyone saw it.”
Musha took another step toward the stone.
“And my blindness?”
Hana looked away.
“Your mother knew there would be a price.”
“What price?”
“She never told me.”
Musha’s hands curled into fists.
“You’re hiding something.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“Stop saying that!”
Her voice echoed through the house.
Hana went silent.
Musha’s chest rose and fell.
“I’ve spent my entire life being protected from the truth.”
She touched her blindfold.
“I can’t see.”
Her hand dropped.
“I couldn’t speak.”
She swallowed.
“And everyone keeps deciding what I should know.”
Hana’s expression softened.
“But you’re still alive.”
“Because of my mother.”
“Yes.”
“Then I deserve to know what she sacrificed.”
Hana looked down.
“Your mother sacrificed everything.”
Musha froze.
“What does that mean?”
Hana reached into the chest again.
This time she pulled out a small piece of parchment.
The paper was old.
The edges were burned.
Musha could hear the faint shaking in Hana’s hands.
“What is it?”
“A letter.”
“From my mother?”
“Yes.”
Musha’s heart raced.
“Read it.”
Hana unfolded the parchment.
Her eyes moved across the faded writing.
Then she stopped.
“What does it say?”
Hana’s voice was quiet.
“She wrote that if you survived, I was never to take you to the capital.”
“Why?”
“Because someone would come looking for you.”
“Who?”
Hana didn’t answer.
Musha stepped forward.
“Who?”
Hana finally said:
“Lord Katsurane.”
Musha had heard the name before.
She knew he was powerful.
But there was something in Hana’s voice that made the name feel dangerous.
“Who is he?”
“A lord.”
“That’s not enough.”
“He commands soldiers.”
“Still not enough.”
Hana folded the letter.
“He was one of the most powerful men in the kingdom.”
Musha’s expression hardened.
“Was?”
“He still is.”
“Then why would he want me?”
Hana looked at the stone.
“Because he knows what you are.”
Musha’s heart sank.
“What am I?”
Hana remained silent.
Musha’s voice cracked.
“What am I, Grandma?”
Hana looked directly at her.
“You are the last person who carries the White Shadow.”
Musha’s breathing became shallow.
“The last?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to the others?”
Hana’s eyes lowered.
“They were killed.”
Musha felt the room spinning.
“By who?”
Hana’s answer came slowly.
“People who were afraid of what they could become.”
Musha clenched her fists.
“And Katsurane?”
“He was there.”
Silence.
Musha heard the fire crackling in the corner.
She heard the wind outside.
She heard Hana breathing.
Everything suddenly sounded distant.
“My mother…”
Hana looked at her.
“Was she one of them?”
“No.”
“Then what was she?”
Hana’s expression changed.
“Your mother was something far more important.”
Musha waited.
But Hana said nothing more.
“Grandma.”
“I’ve told you enough.”
“No.”
Musha stepped closer.
“You haven’t told me anything.”
Hana looked toward the door.
“We have to leave.”
Musha frowned.
“Why?”
“Because we’re no longer safe here.”
A faint sound came from the forest.
Snap.
A branch breaking.
Both women froze.
Musha slowly turned her head.
Someone was outside.
Hana reached for the sword hidden beneath the table.
Musha gripped her staff.
“How many?”
Hana whispered.
Musha listened.
One heartbeat.
Then another.
Then another.
Her face became serious.
“Five.”
Hana’s eyes widened.
“Five?”
“Maybe six.”
The footsteps stopped.
Silence.
Musha’s fingers tightened around her staff.
Then she heard a voice from beyond the house.
“Grandma Hana.”
Hana’s face went pale.
Musha recognized the fear immediately.
“Who is that?”
Hana didn’t answer.
The voice came again.
“We know the girl is inside.”
Musha’s heart began pounding.
Hana stepped in front of her.
“Stay behind me.”
Musha shook her head.
“No.”
“Musha—”
“You said I need to learn to protect myself.”
“Not against them.”
“Who are they?”
Hana drew her sword.
“The Crimson Shadows.”
Musha’s grip tightened.
Outside, steel slowly left its sheath.
One blade.
Then another.
Then another.
Hana whispered:
“They’ve come for you.”
Musha stood beside her.
For the first time, she wasn’t afraid.
She remembered the voice beneath the mountain.
She remembered the white light surrounding her body.
She remembered her mother’s letter.
And she remembered the question that had followed her since birth.
What am I?
Musha raised her staff.
“I think…”
Her voice became steady.
“…it’s time I found out.”
Outside, a figure stepped from the trees.
A red cloak moved in the wind.
The stranger raised a sword.
And smiled.
“Then let’s see what the White Shadow can do.”
The door exploded inward.