The Archivists of Aftertime

Chapter 125 – Story's Farewell

The sun was setting in a fiery orange as Story strolled out onto the cliff. She'd been here previously—once chasing the glint of the horizon as a child, once as a bum with the weight of a thousand voices, and now as something entirely different. The air was lightly perfumed with salt and burning cedar off shrines below, where pilgrims had offered their sacrifices. She swept with each step red dust grains that danced in the wind for a moment before settling back down, as if the earth itself refused to let her go.

Her silver-streaked hair floated pale and loose around her shoulders. Time had been kind to her in the way rivers are kind to stones—polished her rough edges but not changed her shape. She had no pack, no staff, only the peaceful confidence that she had crossed for the last time.

Below the sea ran like glass over a concealed pulse. The tide had gone out, leaving black, glinting rocks exposed. She could hear gulls screaming, thin and far away. Past them, one sailboat sailed acr