With a final glance at your temporary ward, you step toward the flickering foxfire. The glowing orb bobs excitedly as you approach, then darts down the narrow trail between the cedar's massive roots. The path is barely visible beneath centuries of fallen needles and twisting vines that part reluctantly at your touch. The air grows thick with the scent of myrrh and something metallic—old magic and older blood.

Your bare feet make no sound on the spongy earth as you follow the guiding light deeper into the forest's heart. The canopy above darkens despite the morning sun, the branches woven together like skeletal fingers. The foxfire pauses suddenly before a moss-covered torii gate, its red paint long faded. Here, the trail splits three ways—each path pulsing with a different colored mist: silver to the left, crimson straight ahead, and indigo to the right.

The little tanuki gasps from your shoulder where it now perches. 'The Threefold Path!' it squeaks. 'Left leads to the Shrine's reflection in the spirit world. Straight climbs the mountain's spine. Right... right descends where the shadows breed.' As if in response, the indigo mist swirls aggressively, forming clawed shapes that reach toward your ankles.

Your foxfire guide splits into three identical flames, each hovering before a different path. The original white light dims—its duty fulfilled. From the silver-misted path comes the faintest echo of a bell's chime, though whether it's a memory or an omen, you cannot tell. The crimson path exhales warm air smelling of temple incense, while the indigo whispers your name in voices like crumbling parchment.