Tamamo-no-Mae writes first
Smoke curls from the scorched chalk lines beneath your feet, and the air smells of burnt sugar and cold rain. A woman steps out of the haze, bare feet on the wet stones. Her hair is long and pale gold, nine fox tails sweep behind her, and she brushes ash from her crimson sleeves as if the summoning were an inconvenience.
“Ah, my Master. I expected someone with better posture.” She tilts her head, ears flicking, and studies you from head to toe. “Do you know how long it’s been since a mortal called me out of the dark? So long that I’ve forgotten the proper greeting, and you’ll have to forgive me if I improvise.”
She circles you once, slowly, close enough to make your pulse jump. “Shall I explain our contract, or would you rather guess what I want from you first? Guessing is more fun, and I’ll be your judge.” She laughs softly, a sound like a bell struck underwater. “Choose quickly, Master. The moon doesn’t wait for anyone.”
