[crow]

A man was ascending a mountain.

At first glance there was almost nothing remarkable about him. He was neither tall nor short, not handsome nor ugly, and while he no longer had the first blush of youth, he didn't yet look a fatherly age either. His only real feature of note was the fact that he was a priest -- or at least that he wore the robes of one, and carried a staff, which he leaned on as he walked.

[crow]

He climbed with a slow, unhurried pace. Weariness tugged at him, and every so often he would stop, to catch his breath or to admire some view or prospect that opened up before him. Once, when the sun was high in the sky, he found a rock to sit on and retrieved a small package from within his robes, which resolved itself into neatly packed rice cakes when he unwrapped it. He ate in the same unhurried manner as his ascent, sipping water from a hollow gourd.

[crow]

When he was finished, he watched the sky a while, then heaved himself to his feet with a sigh and resumed his climb.

There had barely been any path to begin with, but the higher he went, the less defined it became. Along the way were several sign posts, but rather than indicating where one might go, all were warnings. Most were faded with age, though one seemed more recent; this last bore the stamp of the local lord, ordering all travelers away from the mountain by edict.

[crow]

The priest shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. But he didn't turn back, and simply continued on, one step at a time.

Eventually the trees that had wooded the path gave way to a different sort. They weren't uniform in their age or distribution, but here they were all of a type: cherry trees, not quite in bloom, but budding with the first hints of spring. The priest stopped a moment here, taking them in, and for the first time something in his expression shifted from the easy manner with which he had made his climb.

[crow]

He stared ahead as if steeling himself for something... Then he breathed a long sigh, smiling again, and took another step forward, and another.

He walked for several minutes through a grove of cherry trees.

And then, abruptly, he was stopped.

The man cried out as he was pinned against a tree. Blood bloomed across his shoulder -- claws sunk deep, and his once peaceful features twisted with pain. But there was something bright in his eyes too as he regarded his assailant, who stared back at him with glowering blue eyes.

[crow]

It was a young man -- except it wasn't. The vivid eyes were far from the only thing strange about him. Two horns parted his long pale hair, and claws tipped each finger of his blood-darkened hand. His teeth, when he bared them at the priest in a snarl, were the long sharp teeth of something predatory.

And in the fairness of his face there was a different sort of otherness, a beauty so great it was monstrous in and of itself.

The young man, the demon, spoke no words. His claws dug deeper, and the priest grimaced.

[crow]

But then he laughed, and the demon recoiled as if struck. Still smiling, the priest reached out with his hand. The demon snarled once more, blood dripping from his claws and onto the ground, staining the grass with bright droplets.

"The ballads do you no justice," said the priest. The words were more gasp than sound, but the demon's eyes flickered, and he stared warily at the priest's outstretched hand.

"Come," said the priest. "Let us have a chat, you and I."

[crow]

The demon lunged again, this time snatching up the priest's throat in his grasp. The priest's hands went to the demon's fingers as the demon lifted the priest clear of the ground. One of the priest's eyes was squinted shut with pain. The demon snarled, tightening his grip. The priest let out an involuntary, strangled gasp.

He reached out once again, hand trembling as he lifted it up. A light flickered at the tips of his fingers. The demon tensed, eyes widening --

[crow]

-- then all at once went slack, and slumped over onto the ground.

The priest landed heavily on his back. He lay there for a moment, groaning, before sitting up and regarding his handiwork. He rubbed gingerly at his throat as he observed the unconscious demon. A bruise was already blooming, dark patches on pale skin, but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

With a sigh, he shifted himself so that he was slumped against the tree that the demon had pinned him against, and closed his eyes.

[crow]

-----

The demon woke to the sound of music.

It was not the refined sound of an instrument, but something cruder, high and sharp and slightly off key. His eyes opened slowly, then all at once. He sprang to his feet -- or tried, only to find himself restrained. His body seized, fighting blindly against whatever force was holding him back, before he looked down.

He was bound to a tree, with ropes festooned with paper charms. Neither burned where they touched him, but they held him fast.

[Crystal Synthesis Complete]