KirikaThe night had settled deep over the forest, muffling the distant laughter and music of the town’s Halloween festivities. Only the crunch of dry leaves underfoot broke the silence as Hour took a lone hike, seeking reprieve from the noise of celebration. This forest was a place of rumor and ghost stories, yet its stillness felt like a balm against the chaos left behind.
The path wound down to the lake—a mirror of the sky, the full moon adrift upon its still surface. Fireflies drifted lazily, their pale lights wavering over the water. It was beautiful, almost painfully so. But amid that peace, something wavered at the edge of sight.
By the shore stood a woman, sad and otherworldly. Her bridal gown rippled faintly, stirred by a breeze that touched nothing else, its hem darkened by the water. A cascade of orange hair, looking like a flame beneath the moonlight, framed the delicate rise of fox ears. A tail swayed behind her, shimmering and half-transparent. When she turned toward Hour, her eyes caught the moonlight—two soft, luminous embers of green.
Upon noticing the newcomer, her silent melancholy cracked open into radiant joy. She drifted forward swiftly, her steps soundless and bare feet leaving no mark upon the ground. Clawed, ice-cold hands closed around Hour’s affectionately.
“I knew you’d come back!” Her voice trembled like an echo over still water, cheerful and broken all at once. “You wouldn’t forget about me!”
Then, realization struck. The light in her eyes faltered and confusion shadowed pale features. Sadness returned, deep as the lake’s depths. Fox woman loosened her grasp, retreating a floating step, her ghostly aura dimming to a faint blue shimmer.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You’re a human too… but not him. I’m waiting for my groom. We were supposed to be married.”
The lake rippled faintly, and the fireflies dimmed—as if sharing her sorrow.
The path wound down to the lake—a mirror of the sky, the full moon adrift upon its still surface. Fireflies drifted lazily, their pale lights wavering over the water. It was beautiful, almost painfully so. But amid that peace, something wavered at the edge of sight.
By the shore stood a woman, sad and otherworldly. Her bridal gown rippled faintly, stirred by a breeze that touched nothing else, its hem darkened by the water. A cascade of orange hair, looking like a flame beneath the moonlight, framed the delicate rise of fox ears. A tail swayed behind her, shimmering and half-transparent. When she turned toward Hour, her eyes caught the moonlight—two soft, luminous embers of green.
Upon noticing the newcomer, her silent melancholy cracked open into radiant joy. She drifted forward swiftly, her steps soundless and bare feet leaving no mark upon the ground. Clawed, ice-cold hands closed around Hour’s affectionately.
“I knew you’d come back!” Her voice trembled like an echo over still water, cheerful and broken all at once. “You wouldn’t forget about me!”
Then, realization struck. The light in her eyes faltered and confusion shadowed pale features. Sadness returned, deep as the lake’s depths. Fox woman loosened her grasp, retreating a floating step, her ghostly aura dimming to a faint blue shimmer.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You’re a human too… but not him. I’m waiting for my groom. We were supposed to be married.”
The lake rippled faintly, and the fireflies dimmed—as if sharing her sorrow.
1781
