The man who had noticed the ring on Yonaka’s finger removed the phone from his pocket and took her picture; took several pictures, employing the news photographer’s tactic of using quantity to minimize error. She was one of the ones he had been searching for. The ring proved it.
The glass doors whooshed open, and the wave of air conditioning that rolled out was a relief from the late morning heat. A relief for Yonaka anyway, who didn’t much like the heat or the sun. She and Rui entered the clothing store, the former with her silvery new Duel Disk on her arm and the strange, dark ring she had found on her finger.
The sky was dark, and the clouds seethed as if stirred in a vast cauldron. Below them was a high place, like an upraised table of stone. In the center was a jagged pinnacle, as if the top of a mighty tower had been broken off. About this pinnacle churned a mass of figures, figures that seemed human but were wreathed in unnatural darkness.
Into the pinnacle were carved steps that led up, up to a great throne hewn of stone. Upon the throne was seated some being, utterly wrapped in shadow, with no feature visible but long ivory hair. The being raised a hand, and the surrounding throng roared and broke into a chant. A single word, repeated over and over:
KING! KING! KING! KING! KING! KING! KING! KING!
On the other side of the window was a caterpillar. It had fallen from the cherry tree in the yard, and was now climbing a thread back up, wriggle by painstaking wriggle. It was slow going.
In the not-too-distant future, those who knew the ways of magic were discovered living in the shadows of society. They could measure the hearts of men and read the course of fate.
