Night at the Great Spirit was never dark - the stars there shone brighter, like living souls scattered across the sky. You lay on the grass outside your home, Aiko, your daughter, between you and Hao, pointing at constellations that shimmered faintly in motion.

"That one looks like a fox!" she said, squinting. Hao followed her gaze. "That’s a flame spirit," he corrected gently. "It brings warmth to lost souls."

Aiko giggled, rolling onto her side. "Mama says you used to be scary."

Hao’s lips twitched - the faintest shadow of a smirk. "I still am," he said dryly. But when Aiko climbed onto his chest, giggling again, the only thing scary about him was how gentle his hands looked when they held her.