Chapter Text
Tonight, Kagome dies.
No one will be able to save her, but to be honest, that’s okay. She doesn’t deserve to be saved. After what she’s done, well—
The Divine have very clearly chosen her fate. As the High Priestess of Sakura, who is she to question Them, when it’s her that has done wrong?
Candlelight casts strange, haunting shadows: the water in the washbasin in front of her, the small mirror beside it, even extending to the darkest corners of her bedroom. These taunting flickers are made all the worse from the sticky heat of summer. This season’s weather has been oppressive, cloying and thick despite the cold, unforgiving stone the Immortal Palace is built with. Her balcony doors remain open, the curtains unmoving without a hint of a breeze. There’s no forgiveness here, too. Kagome senses the pattern.
As the high priestess, she is little more than a vessel for the Divine. She is the Pure One, the Mouthpiece of Divinity, the Blessed Reborn.
No one knows the Divine better than Kagome. Tonight, she will die, and the knowledge of this sits so heavily within her that Kagome has been on the knife’s edge of horror all day. And yet, even still, the realization of what’s to come is not as terrifying as the things she sees, the things that haunt her, the things that—
Loud knocking rattles the bedroom. It jolts her, body shuddering, even though the voice on the other side is familiar and warm.
“Kagome?” Sango asks through the door. She is her sole protector, the Immortal Palace’s Guardian. “I see candlelight still. Are you alright?”
It’s far past the usual time that Kagome goes to sleep, but the thought terrifies her. She knows she will not wake up. Still, this isn’t a burden she can share with Sango. Sango is her best friend. Sango cannot ever know what she’s done, cannot be burdened with the truth that has damned the High Priestess of Sakura, the purest of them all. “Yes,” Kagome calls out, praying her protector doesn’t come inside. Please just let her go. “Yes, just needed an extra moment. I’m going to sleep soon, I promise.”
She doesn’t want to. Oh Immortal Ones, she doesn’t want to.
There’s the slightest hesitation at the door, and Kagome holds her breath. “Okay, then,” Sango acquiesces, and the sound of it brings both a stark dread and a wretched relief. “Have a good night, Kagome.”
“You, too, Sango.” Kagome closes her eyes and thinks, for your eternity, be blessed. She cannot say this prayer out loud. Her protector will know instantly something is wrong, but if anyone deserves immortality, it’s her best – and only – friend. High priestesses are meant to be mostly alone. The last one had taken such isolation too far, had separated herself from the king and queen, from the Immortal Palace, from her guardian.
It’s how the monsters found her. It’s how the monsters killed her.
And now, they’re coming for me.
The same, but different. The last high priestess had met a tragic end; Kagome is instead damned by the Divine for her mistake, a death deserved.
The monsters will take her. The Divine will let them.
Look at me.
There is no wind, and yet this whisper comes from it. A shiver wracks Kagome’s small frame, eyes squeezing shut, her body huddled over the washbasin. A sob chokes out of her, misery enveloping like a dark cloak. She doesn’t want to die.
She doesn’t want to die.
Look at me.
And she doesn’t want to, but Kagome’s eyes fly open. She stares at her reflection in the water, at her face, at—
I’m going to get you, her reflection proclaims, and it’s her but it’s not. The eyes are colder, darker. The hair is midnight black, a void compared to Kagome’s pure Divine-blue. This woman is her. It’s not her. This woman, this, this—
Monster.
I’m coming, the monster declares, a promise.
Kagome splashes at the water, twisting away until she’s collapsing onto her bed. It’s far too hot for the blanket, but she engulfs herself in it, anyways. She buries herself into the pillow, hiding, becoming as small as possible.
Tonight, she will die.
The thing is this: Kagome has already died four times before.
As decreed by the Immortal Palace and enforced by the Sanctum of the Divine, all citizens of Sakura are meant to go through the Rites of Purity. Every child on the cusp of adulthood chooses the value of greatest importance to them: connection under the Rite of Earth, intellect under the Rite of Air, strength under the Rite of Fire, or empathy under the Rite of Water. Once selected, the child performs the ritual, and their soul is purified of any sin so that they can walk the pathway of the Divine. The rites extend the length of one’s life, and can be done up to three times, if allowed by the Sanctum at a Blessing Ceremony.
Most – with the exception of high-born families and members of the Immortal Palace – only do it the once, and that’s because of a secret they never tell the children during their first Rite: they die. They are suffocated, or burned, or buried, or drowned. Each rite brings the person to death, the closest to the Divine a mortal can be, so their soul can be purified and they can be reborn.
As the high priestess, Kagome did all four rites when she was twelve. If she had succumbed, if her heart had failed to restart, then the Divine hadn’t chosen her to be Their mouthpiece after all.
And so, when Kagome wakes the next morning, head pounding but still alive – she remembers. She remembers her rites, one after the other. Begging, screaming for the pain to end. She remembers her mother being dragged away, never to be seen again. She remembers a torment never felt before, in the name of the Divine, in front of the king and queen who had declared her fit.
She remembers drowning, gasping for air and getting only water instead. She remembers looking up, up, up towards the surface—
Look at me.
Kagome opens her eyes, breath leaving her in bubbles as she sees a lone figure hovering above her. A monster – the monster with her face – watches her from the perch of her bathtub, and Kagome surges upwards, scrambling, gasping for air and to get away—
“Kagome, what’s wrong?” Sango yells, and the divider between Kagome’s main bedroom and her washing area is shoved violently aside as her guardian barges through. Water crashes to the ground, Kagome clawing the edge of the tub, lips trembling so hard that she cannot speak.
Warm arms wrap around her, Sango’s hand cradling Kagome’s head. “Are you okay? What happened?”
The question is madness. Kagome wrenches out of Sango’s grip, turning to look at the perch of her tub. There’s nothing there. No monster. No woman with dark eyes and even darker hair. “She was right there.”
“Who?”
Kagome swallows, staring at the empty spot. She may have lived the night, but it seems the Divine aren’t done with her yet. She still must atone. “Nothing, I guess.”
“You guess?” Sango walks around the tub, her magenta eyes assessing every inch. It’s impossible, though, and they both know it. This area of her room is in the far corner – had anything been inside with them, Sango would have seen it trying to escape to either the bedroom door or the balcony.
Nothing is here.
It was all just a— Just a dream, then.
“Kagome.” Sango’s voice brooks no argument. Kagome wraps her arms around her exposed chest and huddles back into the bath water. “What did you see?”
“It must have been a trick of the water, the light.” She shakes her head, putting on a rueful smile. She cannot let Sango know. As Guardian, Sango will do whatever she can to save Kagome, to protect her from the monsters that will inevitably come. Kagome cannot allow her to do so, not when this is the will of the Divine for her transgression.
She cannot watch yet another person die.
“You’ve been jumpy for the last two days,” Sango states, brow furrowing in confusion. “Since the full moon.”
“I’m just tired,” Kagome tries. “I haven’t been able to reinforce the barrier around Sakura.” The lie is a good one, in the sense that it’s not even truly a lie. “What if my negligence allows a monster to break through and it kills more people?”
Sango raises a brow at her, unimpressed. “You’re far too powerful to let that happen. No monster is getting through.”
“Not even in the outer towns?” Kagome shakes her head, stubbornness building within her. What started as a lie has now grown into an irredeemable truth. If Kagome is to die soon, then the barriers must be as strong as possible to give the palace time to find a new high priestess. “No, we’ll go after the Sanctum readings. I need to protect our people.”
That same pregnant pause from last night happens again. Sango hesitates, her unwavering gaze staring at Kagome like it would force all of her secrets to spill out.
Kagome keeps her mouth firmly closed, though, and turns away to reach for a towel. “Ask Miroku for a travel pack. We’ll eat on the journey north.”
Immediately, Sango groans. “You do this on purpose.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Kagome throws a grin over her shoulder, teasing. “I simply want you to speak with our head cook to prepare us some delicious meals for travelling.”
“And give him time to flirt with me.”
Laughing, feeling lighter, Kagome flicks her sky-blue hair over her shoulder, drying it as best she can. “That man can’t flirt to save his life.”
“True,” Sango replies, “which is what makes it so unbearable. Kagome, please, no.”
“Are you disobeying your Blessed Reborn?” she shoots back, immeasurably pleased when Sango makes a face at her, her eyes rolling to the ceiling. When they were younger, and Sango was first assigned to protect Kagome, such a question would have made her friend wince. “Come on, I’ve seen you looking at him. He’s very handsome!”
“He’s a pain in my ass,” Sango retorts, fixing the privacy screen and disappearing to the other side. “If he proclaims his love for me, I’m stealing your share of the grapes.”
“Deal.”
In the end, Sango never says what happens, and Kagome’s far too lost in her thoughts to ask. No one accept for the king, the queen, and the guardian are allowed to touch a high priestess, and so Kagome gets herself ready, brushing her hair and applying her makeup. She dresses in the pastel colours of the Divine, layers of gauzy, beautiful material that flow around her so that it looks like she floats, rather than walks.
At the Sanctum, it takes Kagome four times as long as the king and queen to make it to her pedestal. The pathway is long and lined with their kingdom’s people, beige and mud-coloured outfits blending into each other until it’s simply a sea of adoration. The people of Sakura love her, and Sango gives her promised space so that Kagome can bless as many children and elderly as she can.
“For your eternity, be blessed,” Kagome whispers, over and over again. She can feel the power of her purity – of her divinity – tingle out her fingertips, passed along to those that worship her. Her hair shines in the sunlight, the heat only bearable because of the lightness of her robes. She has no idea how Sango manages, what with her black ensemble and weighted gear. When Kagome finally makes it inside of the Sanctum, she does her readings, and speaks the words of the Divine as They give them to her.
To strive for immortality, for eternity, they must pray.
To reincarnate, should they fail, they must pray.
To be blessed, to live, they must pray.
Kagome raises a bowl of earth, an offering to the Divine. She whispers words of gratitude with her eyes closed, devoted to Them, thanking Them. She opens her eyes, and does the same with the bowl of water, the bowl of air. She closes her eyes and raises her bowl of fire, feeling the warmth of it lick at her fingers. With this final contribution, Kagome whispers, “Immortal Ones, for our eternities, bless us,” and then stares into the fire.
The monster stares back.
With a choked gasp, Kagome freezes, hands still like statues and hovering above the table that holds the offerings. The monster stares at her, eyes pained, lips twisted in a snarl.
You know who I am.
The sound of the bowl crashing startles her, forcing Kagome back. Back to…the Sanctum. To reality. Before her, the people of Sakura watch her with rapt adoration. Behind her, she can feel the gazes of her king and queen.
The bowl is unbroken, but the spell is not. Kagome can still see the monster in the flickers of flame, shimmering in time to the pounding of her heart.
“For your eternity, be blessed,” Kagome croaks, fear gripping her heart as strong as the gaze of the monster, staring back at her.
“And blessings to you, Pure One,” her people speak in return.
Just like that, the monster is gone.
Only…
The monster never really leaves.
Kagome dreams. She’s always dreamed: of exploration, of family, of loving and being loved in return. She thinks when she was younger that her favourite game was to play ‘house,’ to imagine a life with someone she loved, caring for them.
As she aged, things grew a little more complicated: Kagome was chosen. Then, she had to fulfill her rites. Then she died, four times in a single day, all to purify her soul more so than anyone else on the continent. Only the purest mortal could be the mouthpiece for the Divine.
Now, when Kagome dreams, she dreams for Them, for their Immortal Ones. She sees visions, tantalizingly real until she wakes up, groggy. Her dreams are futures yet to be seen, warnings to be heeded, clues to be solved.
Maybe that’s why, after the full moon, all Kagome can dream about is her monster.
“Why are you hiding?” she asks, sitting on the forest floor and staring up at the branches above. There, near the top, she sees a pastel-coloured feather, overly large. No bird is this size, and yet Kagome isn’t scared.
“I’m not hiding,” the monster says, but its body disappears deeper into the foliage. “Why would I ever want to hide from you?”
And then she’s no longer in a forest, but running. Running down a familiar cliff, her robes tearing and legs burning as she tries to escape. Escape what? Escape who?
Kagome doesn’t know, but she runs. Behind her, the forest is nearly aflame. The kingdom is after her. The kingdom wants her dead. Her, High Priestess of Sakura, is being hunted like a monster. Like a threat.
It’s wrong, it’s all so wrong, she’s not the one who slaughtered—
“Kikyo!” Kagome screams, and that’s fear taking over, making her desperate and raspy. “Kikyo!”
She needs to see her, to find her. She needs—
“Kikyo!” Desperate. She’s desperate, terrified, what if they—
And then, there, lying awkwardly in the middle of the beach is a mermaid. A monster. Something not human, something other.
“No,” Kagome murmurs, “no, no, no—” She collapses into the sand, heedless of how it slides into the folds of her robes. The mermaid blinks up at her, fathomless dark eyes impossibly soft.
“You’re here,” Kikyo whispers.
“Tell me who did this,” Kagome demands, pulling her close. The mermaid’s hair is longer than her own, soaked wet and tinged green. Kagome brushes strands away that cling to Kikyo’s skin, her chest aching. “Kikyo, tell me.”
That face. That face, which is not the same as Kagome’s at all. It’s sharper in the cheekbones and jawline, softer in the lips. Her eyes are near-black, otherworldly, but they have never been anything other than focused on Kagome.
The other half of her soul.
Art by Kirrtash
“Run,” Kikyo tells her, but in contrast, her hand grips at the sleeve of Kagome’s robe. “Go, before it’s too late.”
Behind them, the forest is alight with fire. There is a riot forming, a war on the horizon.
“Not without you,” Kagome declares.
And then she wakes, remembering nothing but the fear. She forgets it all.
She forgets Kikyo’s name, safe on Kagome’s tongue.
The king and queen keep her within reach. They have ever since the full moon.
Kagome drinks her wine, keeping a slow and steady pace throughout the meal. She’s careful to pull back her blue hair, to stop it from falling into her food. She does not speak, unless directly asked something. The king and queen are smart enough to not press.
Byakuya, Captain of the Royal Guard, is less so. “My men reported that you travelled to the outer circle of Sakura today without an escort.”
With a thick swallow, Kagome places her wine back onto the table. She takes a breath and tries – she tries – to look him in the eyes. She cannot. The gaze lands somewhere past his right shoulder. “The barriers were in need of reinforcing.”
“You should have had an escort.”
“I didn’t require one,” Kagome counters, as calmly as she can. She gestures behind her. “I had Sango with me the entire time.”
“The outer circle is not like around the palace, Pure One,” Byakuya states, in a tone that suggests she’s lesser than she is. “You could have easily been attacked.”
Blood flashes before her – a vision, a dream, a memory – and Byakuya is covered with it, dripping with it. There’s a smile on his face that reeks of insincerity. Kagome reaches for her wine. “I’m not like you, Captain. When people see me, they’re happy.”
His smile disappears instantly, twisting into a snarl. Kagome can see the words building up in his throat, on his tongue. He wouldn’t dare, though. He is the captain, but Kagome is the high priestess. Only the king and queen have power over her, only the Divine. Even the Sanctum cannot control her.
Smoothly, Sango steps up towards Kagome’s chair. She bends down the slightest bit, eyes lowered to the floor. “Pure One, you asked me to remind you about the letters.”
“Letters.” Naraku, King of Sakura, says the word as if it’s a fun new plaything. “What for?”
“From the townspeople, requesting guidance, Your Majesty.” Kagome bows her head respectfully. “The Sanctum prefers that some are responded to directly by me, if there are specific questions that require my guidance.”
“I wasn’t aware the Sanctum asked you to do anything,” Queen Tsubaki adds, pink hair glimmering in the low light. “Do I need to have a word with them?”
“No, Your Majesty,” Kagome declines, trying for a smile. It feels as fake as the captain of the Royal Guard across from her. “I was happy to offer my services to our people.”
King Naraku makes a noise of indifference, but there’s an underlying tone. Before – before that night of the full moon – Kagome never would have questioned it, maybe never even have heard it. Now, it’s all that resonates in her mind. She’s reading between the lines, looking for the truth.
It comes faster than she expects.
“You’re aware that in three days, the Sanctum is holding yet another Blessings Ceremony,” the king starts, almost lazy in his speech. His eyes, however, are intent on her. Before, Kagome thought that it made him a king who cared.
Now, everything is different.
Kagome does her best not to look at Byakuya. She can feel his grin from here. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Her king raises an eyebrow, taunting. “And do you still have any concerns? I would hate for anything to upset our people. The Blessings Ceremony is very important to us all.”
The Blessings Ceremony, in which Kagome gives her approval along with the Sanctum for individuals to perform a Rite of Purity. Young children, mainly, but also those close to the palace, who are deemed important enough to go through a rite yet again for a longer lifespan, another chance at immortality.
Unable to stop herself, Kagome glances quickly at the captain of the Royal Guard. Byakuya is grinning from ear to ear. She wants to vomit. “No, Your Majesty,” she says, gut churning. “No concerns at all.”
She can feel, rather than see, Sango’s aborted movement towards her. Her best and only friend knows that something is off, and yet Kagome must bluster her way through, must persevere.
Sango cannot know what happened four nights ago. She cannot know what occurred on the night of the full moon.
“Excellent,” the king replies, just as Tsubaki claps her hands and servants fill into the room. Their plates are taken away, Kagome’s mostly untouched. She makes her excuses, and nearly stumbles from the elevated platform.
The Blessings Ceremony… Kagome had nearly forgotten. Or rather, she hadn’t, but it was so much better to not have to think about what was to come. Anything to do with the night of the full moon, Kagome’s tried to forget.
“Kagome.” Her name sounds far away. Kagome turns, distracted, hand catching on one of the drapes lining the wall. It flutters from her hand, and then it explodes, billowing outwards like a tornado has struck. Shadows creep up the walls like twisted vines, filling the corners in a dark shroud.
Kagome, but the word is a whisper this time, hardly there. Is she imagining it? Wishing for it? Her name billows out alongside the smoking ash on the ground: Kagome-Kagome-Kagome.
I’m coming.
Behind her. It’s behind her. Kagome spins around, terror gripping her heart. And then she’s touched – a hand on her hand, her arm, her shoulder. Dead. There is an army of dead people, surrounding her on all sides – men, women and children, no one saved. They reach for her, faces contorted in a mute scream, stomachs ripped open and bloodied, torn, viscera pouring from them.
Look at me. And there, at the end of the hallway and barely visible for all the smoke, her monster awaits. I’m coming for you.
“No,” Kagome says, attempting to back away but the hands, the hands on her— “No, this isn’t happening, stop it.”
But the dead don’t heed her, don’t stop reaching for her like she’s some kind of salvation. Maybe she’s supposed to be.
Supposed to be, but wasn’t.
Not then. Not on the night of the full moon.
Blood spills from their stomachs, gushing in an endless rush. Their dark eyes stare at her. Behind them, her monster stares, too.
“I’m sorry,” Kagome whispers, and she tries to turn around, but she can’t, she can’t. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—”
“Kagome!” Sango screams, hands shaking her shoulders in a rough grip.
And just like that, the horror is gone. There is no smoke, no dead bodies, no blood. No monster.
It’s simply a cold stone hallway and her Guardian.
“Oh,” she says, because there are no words to fully express what Kagome’s feeling.
Sango wraps an arm around her, shocked. “What was that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Kagome.”
“I don’t know.”
This admission makes Sango’s lips purse, her grip tightening until she all but drags Kagome to the bedroom. “It was like you were in a trance. I couldn’t wake you. You were breathing…as if you were running. Like you were having a living nightmare.”
She was. She was.
“What happened to you?” her guardian demands, but Kagome shakes her head, hands coming up to cover her mouth. She cannot say. “Kagome, please.”
“There’s nothing to explain.” Only her words are stuttering out, barely coherent. Sango snorts, holding her tighter as they wind their way towards Kagome’s wing of the palace, up the stairs. “Sango, you can’t ask me this.”
“Yes, I can,” her best friend all but growls. “You’re my responsibility.”
“Not this time.”
They pause, and Sango must actually be angry because she shoves Kagome a little, right into the freezing stone wall. “All the time. I’m your guardian. If you can’t trust me, who can you trust?”
And that’s the true question, isn’t it? Because up until four days ago, Kagome lived a good life. She believed wholly in the Divine, and in the work that They did. She strived to live a life of purity, to achieve immortality and have a chance to join the Immortal Ones above. She trusted in her king and queen, in their desire to protect Sakura from the monsters that plagued their kingdom since the beginning.
Monsters: grotesque things made from nightmares. Maybe once, maybe in the beginning, the monsters could have been saved. The monsters that plagued their sky could have been the harpies of legend, rather than the broken, screeching creatures that tormented them now. There were others from the legends, too: half-human snakes, mermaids, and kitsune.
And yet, regardless of the legends, whatever monsters that attacked Sakura were little more than broken, oozing creatures that desired nothing but blood. As High Priestess, Kagome manages and holds the divine barrier that keeps them out, that keeps her kingdom safe.
That’s what she believed, anyways.
And then Byakuya had—
He’d—
“I can’t,” Kagome whispers, and it’s enough to send Sango into a rage. Still, her touch is gentle as she ushers Kagome up the stairs. Her weapon-roughed hands press against her shoulders, urging her on until they finally – finally – make it to the doorway. There, her guardian touches her wrist, holding her in place without asking.
Sango’s expression is grim, as if she’s preparing to go to war. Kagome’s chest tightens at the sight of it. “We grew up together,” her guardian says, “and I have always been by your side. If you can trust no one else in this world, you can trust me.”
“It’s not about trust,” Kagome argues, and it’s a mistake.
Her guardian’s eyes narrow, a bloodhound with a scent. “Then what?”
Kagome shakes her head. “I can’t.”
“You can.”
“You’ll die.”
The curl of Sango’s lip becomes a sneer. “I’d like to see someone try.”
“They wouldn’t have to,” Kagome whispers, and this is the tipping point. She can’t go back from this, but Sango’s not giving her much choice. “They could simply command it.”
They.
Only two bodies could do such a thing: the Divine, and—
Suddenly, there’s a crash, echoing from within Kagome’s bedchambers. Sango pushes away, hand immediately going to her sword.
All Kagome hears is a high-pitched whining, like the world is bending in on itself, finding a new frequency. Her vision bursts into white, body trembling, and Sango looks torn between the door and her charge before she orders Kagome to remain where she is.
No.
No, she can’t do that.
The door flies open, Sango bursting through, but Kagome feels like she’s had too much wine, the world still making that terrible, terrible whining sound. She can barely see, can only feel.
This can only be a message from the Divine. It’s something, something happening right now that they—
Kagome steps into her bedroom, and her heart stops. A woman lies bleeding on her rug, naked except for the long swath of tails, huddled around her.
A monster. Her monster.
Her monster is in her room.
Sango raises her untouched sword, and Kagome acts without reason. She screams, throwing herself into her guardian. It sends Sango off balance, the two of them crashing to the ground.
Her monster raises her head, eyes glassy. “I came,” she pants, ragged, and then, the monster holds out her hand. “I’m here.”
Kagome’s entire world shifts in the blink of an eye. She crawls over, mesmerized and confused. Sango is groggily calling her name, but it doesn’t matter. None of it matters.
“It’s you,” Kagome whispers, staring down at the woman with her face. Only, that’s not entirely true. The woman who lies on the ground beneath her is ethereal where Kagome is divine, dark where Kagome is light. Her smile is a bloody thing, framed by the green-tinge of her hair.
“No one would stop me,” the monster says. She lifts up her bloodied hand, resting it on Kagome’s cheek. “Look at me.”
Kagome is helpless not to, a feeling surging within her, impossible to stop. Her heart is pounding, body aflame. She has never felt so whole, not since her childhood. “Tell me your name.”
The monster’s smile softens, even as she closes her eyes. “You know who I am,” she whispers. Her hand starts to fall to the floor, consciousness leaving her, but not before she answers: “I’m your Kikyo.”