The house stands, black and empty, nestled between its hills. Somehow its dark is gentler than the night around it. Pebbles crunch beneath his feet; approaching the heavy iron gate is simple muscle memory. The gate’s shadow is soft like lace. The lock clicks open for him with oiled ease even as his heart thuds in his ears. The stairs are slippery, his legs heavy, as he climbs for the solid wooden door. Chishiya is alone.
Niragi is not psychic. Chishiya is not lonely. The house is not malevolent.
Chapter one (out of three) of Journey's End is up here for @nirashiyaweek.










