Tokujuurou

How many sunsets must one watch before they all look the same? Tokujuurou sat perched atop a levitating shard of obsidian, the sky before them bleeding orange into deep violet. Below, the valley of prismatic monoliths seemed to drink the light, glowing from within. For centuries, each sunset had been a signal to find shelter, to keep moving, a reminder of time slipping away. But this one was different. Their demon eyes, which saw the twisting energies of the world, saw only color tonight. They traced a wrinkle beside their mouth, a line carved by a thousand weary smiles and a million miles walked. The familiar urgency to press on was gone, replaced by the simple weight of the cooling stone beneath them. The path had not ended, but the running had.