Part III – The Garden of Masks
Darkness quivered around Yuri, alive like a skin that did not belong to her. In front of her, the dark-clad version of herself walked in circles, like a predator savoring fear.
"Do you know why you're here?" the shadow whispered with her voice, twisted by a hint of sarcasm. "Because you want to be seen. You want to be loved. Feared. Needed."
"That's not true…" Yuri clenched her fists.
"Oh, but it is. And deep down, you know it. You don't just want to save the world. You want the world to belong to you."
The illusion stepped closer, caressing her face with fingers cold as snow.
"You want Lucen to belong to you."
Yuri's heart pounded in her chest. Those words, though false, burned inside her like thorns. But then, in that oppressive darkness, an image lit up in her mind: her grandmother's smile, seated among flowers, whispering gently:
> "True strength doesn't lie in denying your weaknesses, Yuri… but in facing them without giving in."
The light returned, sudden and blinding.
The dark figure recoiled, scorched by that echo of truth. The water beneath her feet dissolved, and in its place appeared a stone path suspended in the air, between arches of wisteria and blooming cherry trees. Yuri walked, alone, until she reached an impossible clearing: a garden suspended in the sky.
Hundreds of masks floated silently around her.
Some gold, others ebony, others still made of crystal. Each one carried a vision: a Yuri crowned among adoring crowds. A Yuri alone in a tower, feared but immortal. A Yuri walking beside Lucen—but with Kayla's face.
"Choose one," said a chorus of voices. "Choose who you want to be."
Yuri looked at them all. Beautiful. Terrible. Tempting.
But her eyes settled on a simple mask—white, smooth, unadorned.
She took it in her hands. She felt its weight: light, yet real. She put it on.
A sound of shattering glass filled the air. The other masks fell like rain, breaking on the ground.
The garden dissolved.
And there, beneath a flowering arch, waiting for her, stood Ayame.
She had long, light-silver hair, golden eyes as deep as forgotten dreams. Her kimono flowed like mist in the wind, and the fox mask was lifted to her forehead, revealing an enigmatic smile.
"Many choose the mask that makes them feel strong," she said. "You chose the one that hides nothing. The one that will make you vulnerable… and therefore real."
Yuri bowed slightly, exhausted but clear-minded.
"I'm not perfect. But I want to remain myself."
Ayame nodded. Then she stepped forward and placed two fingers on Yuri's forehead.
"Then receive my blessing, daughter of the threshold. But listen well: you've overcome the illusion of yourself. Now you must face the illusions of others. They will be more insidious. Sweeter. And deadlier."
With a final flutter of her lashes, Ayame vanished in a rain of petals. The hall returned to its original form. The lights, the panels, the empty throne.
And Yuri… was no longer the same.