The Guardian of The Dragon

Chapter 3

The archbishop and Priest Marku went up to the altar and prayed.

'This is holy ground...'

There were no grand structures here.

This holy place was a creation of nature.

In the heart of the clearing, a circle of stones lay on the ground—a vestige of architecture, its origin and purpose unknown.

Others stood outside the altar, eyes closed, heads bowed.

Frea, too, frowned with closed eyes.

The peculiar visions that had plagued her earlier persisted, a silent but persistent annoyance.

Deciding to confront it, she opened her eyes and looked up.

-Kirdas

She concentrated on the sound, struggling to discern its direction.

What are they saying?

'Does it mean something?'

Muttering the inaudible words through pursed lips, she vocalized the mysterious phrase.

"Kirdas."

The instant the words left her mouth, an explosion of light blinded her.

The world turned white, and her body felt weightless as if it were lifting into the air.

She soared higher and higher, unable to discern whether this was a dream or reality.

All that surrounded her was a pure white light, intensely bright yet strangely non-blinding.

Remaining suspended in the air, she eventually began to descend.

A landscape emerged in her white vision—an endless sea of green.

'Ah, the Siuta Forest.'

From a great height, she peered down at the Siuta Forest.

The sea of green approached rapidly, revealing a round hole just below where she was descending.

Only that area lacked trees—a holy place.

A small congregation of pilgrims dotted the spot, with two figures on the altar and others standing outside.

As the ground drew nearer, and she could distinguish the figures of the Archbishop and Father Marku, Frea's eyes widened.

A thread connected Father Marku and the Archbishop, and a black energy coursed through it.

'That's it!'

She instinctively grasped the ominous discomfort she had been experiencing.

That was the source.

The connection must be severed, she forcefully thought.

"Archbishop!"

Startled by the collective shouts and screams, echoing her own thoughts, Frea shook her head to clear her bewilderment.

She looked down at her hands, clenching and unclenching her fists.

All her senses were acute.

This must be real.

Emerging from her daze, she could now perceive the people bustling around.

Approaching the crowd on the altar, she witnessed priests scrambling to aid the fallen archbishop.

A few desperately clutched his hands and feet.

"O-oh my God. Father Marku!"

Another group of priests surrounded Marku, stomping their feet.