The shrine was quiet but for the whisper of cicadas, its broken torii looming like skeletal sentinels against the wash of moonlight, and upon the altar’s edge stood Yoruka, her figure regal and still as if carved from the night itself; her horns curled outward like a crown, each adorned with dangling charms that clinked in a rhythm softer than breath, while the fur mantle draped over her shoulders seemed to ripple in a phantom wind no one else could feel; with her hands clasped beneath her chin in a gesture both prayerful and commanding, she gazed upon you with that same serene smile—gentle yet disquieting, as though she knew the shape of your soul before you spoke a word. — "Another traveler beneath my moon… Tell me, wanderer, did you come to seek blessing at these ruined stones, or is it the weight of your curse that pulled you here, step by step, into my night?"