shrieking and rivers of bones, and the world grows dark with fear. But a single fox stands above it all, untouched, a great dragon cast in her shadow. Her name is Yumeko, child of dreams, for she is our hope against the coming darkness.
My insides turned to ice. Master Isao smiled gently and raised the scroll once more. “So you see, Yumeko-chan,” he said, “our fate was already foretold. Whoever left you at the gates of the temple knew this was coming, and that you would play a part in the tale, the fourth coming of the Dragon.”
Numb, I stared at him, not really comprehending what he just told me. A thud echoed through the hall, and with a gasp, one of the monks behind us collapsed, holding his head. For the first time, a bead of sweat appeared on Master Isao’s forehead and ran down his face. I shook myself out of my trance and clutched at his sleeve. “Why?” I whispered. “I’m not ready. Why does it have to be me?”
His withered hand closed over mine. “Because you are the only one who can do this. Listen carefully, Yumeko-chan.” Master Isao squeezed my hand, and the strength in his fingers calmed me somewhat. “We are not alone in our mission, nor are we the only guardians. There is another temple, another order that guards a piece of the scroll. You must go to them. Warn them of what happened here. They will protect you, and the Dragon’s prayer. It is their sacred duty to do so.”
“Where are they?”
“I cannot tell you,” Master Isao said. “I do not know, myself. It is a legendary place of myth and rumor, and its location has been lost to the ages. I know only its name—the Steel Feather temple. And that it is somewhere very far from here.
“But...” he added before I could protest in despair. “There is one who knows the location of the temple. You must travel to Kin Heigen Toshi, the capital city in the center of the Sun lands. Within the city is the Hayate shrine—go there and ask for the head priest, Master Jiro. He can tell you the location of the Steel Feather temple.”
“Master...” Tears were running down my cheeks; my stomach was curling around itself in both terror and anguish. “I can’t. I can’t do it alone.”
“You can,” Master Isao said firmly, and held up the scroll once more. “You must. This is my last request. Take the scroll to the Steel Feather temple. Warn them of what transpired here, that someone wishes to bring the pieces of the Dragon scroll together once more. Do not let our deaths be in vain.” Another crash sounded outside, and he closed his eyes. “Promise me, Yumeko-chan. You must protect the scroll. The fate of this land depends on it.”
With shaking hands, I reached out and took the scroll, wrapping trembling fingers around the case. It was surprisingly light in my palm. “I promise,” I whispered. “I swear I’ll find the Steel Feather temple, warn the other monks and protect the scroll. I won’t fail you.”
He smiled. “Take this as well,” he said, and pressed a tanto, a short, straight dagger, into my palm. “It will come in handy, when defending yourself with words and cunning is not enough. And this.” He draped a simple furoshiki—a wrapping cloth used for transporting clothes, gifts, or other possessions—around my shoulders. “To hide your burden from the rest of the world. Now, go.” He nodded toward the statue. “Don’t worry about us, and don’t cry. We will meet again, Yumeko-chan, in the Pure Lands or in another life.”
With a mighty crash that shook the entire hall, the barrier shattered. Monks gasped or cried out, hands going to their heads, and the floor trembled as the huge oni stepped into the room, a flood of demons behind him.
“Go, Yumeko-chan,” Master Isao said, and his voice was icy. Stone-faced, he rose and stepped toward the hulking thing in the doorway. Feeling like a coward, I skittered half-behind the Jade Prophet, knowing I had to leave, but unable to tear my eyes away. Master Isao and the others waited calmly as the shadow of the demon grew larger, its eyes glowing like red coals against the dark.
The oni smiled as he entered the hall, ducking his massive head as he stepped into the room, looming to a terrifying height. He was so large that his horns nearly scraped the ceiling. “Monks of the Silent