The Binding Vow of Lazarus

Chapter 91

After a moment, his voice found its way out, hoarse and muffled against her hair. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered.

She smiled, barely, her face still tucked against his chest. “That’s my line," she said, muffled in his clothes. They both gave a quiet, breathless chuckle that almost sounded like relief, and then, slowly, they let go.

What followed was a chorus of parting words, gentle touches, and fierce, grounding hugs.

Nanami gave her a quiet nod and a hand on the shoulder that said everything he couldn’t.

Rin pulled her in for a tight, warm hug and whispered, “Please come back, okay? It's a promise.”

Boe offered a smirk and a half-teasing, half-serious: “Don’t die.”

Utahime hugged her like a mother trying not to cry.

Shoko didn’t hug, but she pressed her forehead to Sarah’s for a brief second and said, “We'll see you soon, okay?”

Suguru kissed the top of her head, arms lingering around her for longer than expected. “Do what you have to do,” he said softly, “and then come home.”

Yaga said nothing — but he bowed his head with the weight of a mentor entrusting his best student with the impossible. Then he scowled when she hugged him anyway, giving her head a little pat.

Then it was time.

Sarah walked back to the edge of the ritual circle, the golden lines pulsing now like veins through the earth, humming with energy. She stepped to the very center, exhaled slowly, and raised her voice just enough to carry across the field.

“Tamamo-no-Mae,” she called.

There was a moment of stillness—one sharp breath of nothing.

A burst of glittering foxfire erupted in front of her, swirling into the elegant, radiant form of Tamamo-no-Mae. Her long hair danced like it was underwater, her nine tails flaring with starfire, and her golden eyes gleamed with eternal knowledge. She smiled with serene grace, voice like velvet soaked in moonlight.

“Are you ready, little resonate?” she purred.

Sarah nodded, the wind tugging at her coat and hair, the pulse of the ritual vibrating in her bones. “Let’s hope for the best,” she said. “Okay?”

Tamamo's smile widened not cruel and not kind, but knowing. “Then let us walk backward through the threads of time.”

The wind rose. The earth glowed and everything began to shift. Tamamo-no-Mae’s sleeves rustled like silk in a storm as she lifted her ornate fan, the painted edge cold and delicate against Sarah’s chin. With a fox’s grin she tilted Sarah’s face upward and purred, “I see you’ve taken my lessons to heart.” Her golden eyes gleamed with mischief and power as she inhaled subtly. “You reek of the Six Eyes.”

Sarah rolled her eyes and shrugged, a crooked smile tugging at her mouth. “I just realized that waiting around and letting everyone else handle it…” She shook her head. “It’s just not me.”

Tamamo chuckled, the sound like wind chimes struck by lightning. She stepped back, folding her fan with a snap of finality. “Good. Men cannot be trusted to accomplish anything without supervision.”

Sarah snorted, fighting a grin. “Alright, okay. Let’s not go that far.”

Tamamo's tails flicked, amused, and she raised one fine brow as if to say, You’ll see I’m right eventually.

Sarah extended her hand without hesitation, palm up, fingers steady. “Let’s do this.”

The ancient fox spirit regarded her for a breath longer, eyes narrowing with something like pride, then reached out, her hand pale and unnaturally smooth, ringed in gold and flame.