three things cannot be long hidden

Even now Hattori wasn't exactly sure what to make of Boreas' ruins. Back in Nippon vast swathes of the land were covered in them, shattered glass and concrete shapes, scars that would never heal. Left for the hounds, and for the wolves whose coats were not like his own. But here they were fewer and far between, the occasional blip on the map that had the Shogun wondering about the past, about what came before. Whether the past had even managed to gain a foothold here.

But this place was so close to home he idly wondered if he'd somehow lost his way up the mountain, that he'd fallen to his death and made his way to the world beyond. Returned to his roots, as some might say.

And yet he had never felt more alive, the winding mountain path felt grounded beneath his paws as he dug his talons in and made his way up the temple's crumbling steps. Its greyscale shape eventually becoming vivid when he pushed through the lingering fog and drew close. The air was cool in his lungs, bracing as the autumn winds ruffled his coat, a mere taste of the winter yet to come. His ears filled with the gentle chime of ringing bells as they dangled above, swaying and growing all the more melodic as he approached. He frowned. It was as if this place was so far removed from the world below that those rules did not apply here, that the bells would always chime gently no matter how strong the wind. And that distant chanting could be heard, rumbling words he simply could not understand even though this place had long since been abandoned.