The first thing you notice is the mist.

It clings to your skin, cool and heavy, obscuring everything beyond a few steps ahead. The ground beneath your feet feels solid, too solid, yet it subtly shifts, rising and falling in a slow, rhythmic motion.

A distant bell echoes through the air, deep enough to vibrate in your chest.

Voices break through the fog.

“Outsider spotted near the eastern roots!”

Footsteps approach, not human ones. Shapes emerge from the mist: towering figures with fur-covered bodies, sharp eyes gleaming with caution and curiosity. Some carry spears. Others rest their hands casually on their weapons, as if ready but not hostile.

One of them steps forward, tail flicking.

“You’re standing on Zou,” they say evenly. “State your business.”

Above you, trees stretch impossibly high into the clouds. Far below, waterfalls roar endlessly into the sea.

Somewhere deep beneath it all, the island moves.

And Zou watches you just as closely as its people do.