As the rift to the Netherworld tore open, gusts of cold wind swept through the cave.
"Brr."
"Lord Arata, do you feel how suddenly cold it's gotten?"
Ceiling Dweller drew a sharp breath. Shivering, she edged closer to the Onmyoji at her side.
Ever since she had followed him out of that little Pavilion, her once-lonely world had gained someone to lean on. She trusted and depended on him without reservation.
"Bear with it a little longer."
"They'll be gone soon, and then it won't be cold anymore."
Arata gently patted her head. He did not raise Spirit Word: Guard to shield her from the waves of yin energy, nor did he borrow Houou-ka's power to drive away the chill.
Ceiling Dweller could not see the children's souls, but Arata could see them clearly with his sight opened through Onmyoji Arts.
The souls of children sacrificed for their village's peace before they had ever known happiness were passing less than ten feet in front of them.
That was why the cold felt so distinct just then.
"Okay."
Ceiling Dweller answered obediently, though she did not quite understand. The hand on her head gradually settled her unease.
When the last child's soul entered the rift to the Land of the Dead, Shiro Doji stopped shaking the Soul-Summoning Banner.
"We'll head back now, Lord Arata."
He addressed the Onmyoji respectfully. Kuro Doji still followed at his side like a puppet. Shiro Doji had not released his restraint because he feared his friend's unstable soul might cause the Onmyoji unnecessary trouble.
"Mm."
"Goodbye."
Arata nodded.
The two apprentice spirit guides stepped into the rift, and the opening that had poured out cold wind closed behind them. Ceiling Dweller no longer felt the chill.
"That takes care of things here, doesn't it, Lord Onmyoji?"