Hymns of the Cosmic Truth

She found him again, this time on the outskirts of a small village, where he sat sharpening his blade. He didn't look up as she approached, but his voice cut through the silence. "You lied," he said, his tone flat.

Her steps faltered. "What do you mean?"

Reshu finally met her gaze, his eyes dark and piercing. "The pendant you gave me. It's a fake."

The girl's expression remained calm, but there was a flicker of something—perhaps surprise, perhaps amusement.

"You knew?" she asked.

"I knew the moment I touched it." He stood, the fragments of his blade humming faintly as they hovered around him. "But you went to great lengths to create it. That means this isn't just deception. It's manipulation."

She smiled faintly, though it didn't reach her eyes. "And what do you think I'm trying to manipulate you into?"

Reshu's gaze narrowed. "A truth. But truth is not given—it's taken."

For a moment, silence hung between them, taut as a drawn bowstring.

"You're sharper than I expected," she said finally.

"And you're more reckless than I expected," Reshu replied. "Next time, I won't let you live."

The fragments of his sword shimmered briefly before he turned away, disappearing into the shadows.

She watched him go, her hand brushing against the real pendant hidden beneath her cloak.

As Reshu walked away, he tightened his grip on the fake pendant, his expression unreadable.

"She thinks she knows the game she's playing," he thought. "But I've played it longer, and I never lose."

Behind him, the girl smirked faintly, her gaze lingering on his retreating form.

"You'll come back," she murmured. "You always do."