PA4-14 The Saintess Sealed Beneath the Reservoir

  — The Blind Seer —

  Silas Nightseer caught the hesitation in my voice. Though his eyes were clouded and vacant, his head turned with the precision of a hawk, those empty sockets fixing on me with unsettling accuracy.

  "Rhan," he said quietly, "you think I'm lying to you."

  I didn't answer. Silence was confirmation enough.

  A soft chuckle escaped him, devoid of offense. "All I know is what's been passed down through whispers and campfires. Two thousand years is a long time, my friend. Plenty of room for stories tend to change over time. Every myth on this earth has a hundred faces. I've told you the version I carry. If your shovels turn up something else..." He paused, letting the implication hang. "Then maybe they buried more than one anchor relic down there."

  His head tilted slightly, those sightless eyes somehow piercing through me, reading what stirred beneath my skin. "Troublesome, this anchor?"

  "Too early to tell."

  He moved closer, unhurried, his weathered hand finding my shoulder with uncanny accuracy. The grip was light, almost fatherly. " No point worrying before you have to. Whatever's down there, it's nothing you haven't faced before. You've already slain nine dragons. A mere anchor relic should be beneath your notice." A sigh escaped him, weighted with something ancient and tired. "Well. I won't keep you. If you need me, you know where to find me."

  He turned and walked away before I could respond. His gait held none of the uncertainty you'd expect from a blind man—each step measured, confident, as if the earth itself cleared a path for him.

  But why had he really come? A ceremonial dagger couldn't be the whole reason.

  I retreated to my formation, checking every carved symbol, every line of power. Intact. Untouched. Only then did I allow myself a breath. The real test would come at midnight.

  — The Crimson Warden —

  11：00 PM. One hour until the natural cycle of residual and living energy

  I seated myself at the formation's edge, not its center. Eyes half-closed. I needed to witness exactly how my trap would hold whatever stirred below.

  The night wind cut through me, cold as a blade's kiss. I opened my eyes.

  Light flickered across the formation—a pale, spectral shimmer. The formation flickered as the earth's energy shifted beneath it.

  I rose, circling the perimeter.

  The ground stayed cold. No rats came. Good. The Spirit-Binding Array had severed this place from the world's energy flow. The Saint below couldn't draw power now. Couldn't rise on her appointed schedule. When my machines unearthed her, she'd be on terms.

  I waited until 1 AM. Nothing moved. Nothing breathed.

  I turned to leave.

  The ground trembled.

  Deep below, something answered me. The ground lurched underfoot, nearly throwing me off balance. I spun back—

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Light exploded from my formation. The soil churned like boiling water. Something was the array, hammering against my seals.

  I ran back.

  The ground shook harder. Another roar tore through the night, raw and furious—the anchor relic, raging against its cage.

  I stood at the edge and watched. If I couldn't hold a mere anchor, what chance against its master?

  A third roar. Then silence.

  The formation held.

  I waited. Nothing stirred. Finally, I left.

  ---

  Noon came. We gathered at the site, all five of us.

  At 11 sharp, I signaled Lucky to dig. An hour later, we saw it whole.

  Clara's eyes went wide. "What... what that?"

  I walked around the thing, studying every angle.

  A lion's body carved from weathered stone. An eagle's head, hooked beak aimed at the sky, frozen in eternal vigilance. Wings half-spread, the feathers sharply defined. It crouched there like a guardian from a forgotten age, ancient and

  "Griffin," I said.

  "Griffin?" Jasper leaned closer, disbelief written across his face. "Like... the statues they put outside old cathedrals? Family estates?"

  I considered the question, then shook my head slowly. "If I'm right—this is a funerary object."

  " They spoke as one, eyes snapping to me.

  I nodded. "This griffin was buried with someone. And it's still standing guard."

  "Then why's it " Jasper asked what they were all thinking.

  I studied the stone's surface—a deep, unnatural crimson. "Hard to say for certain. But the energy here..." I felt it pressing against my senses, thick and ancient. "It's been soaking in power for too long. It's changed."

  "So... what do we do now?" Jasper scratched his head, then jumped into the pit, reaching for the stone—

  ""

  His hand froze mid-air. He looked up, bewildered. "Why not?"

  "It's " I let the word hang. "The excavator touched it, and the operator's mind nearly shattered. You want to find out what happens to bare skin?"

  Jasper's face went pale. He snatched his hand back and scrambled out of that pit faster than I'd ever seen him move.

  "Alive?" Michael repeated the word like he was testing its weight. "You're saying... this thing could *wake up*?"

  "Yes." I kept my eyes on the griffin, that crimson guardian. "It's been buried here for two thousand years. The energy in this place could wake a stone, let alone something carved to hold power. Leave a wild animal here long enough, and it'd absorb enough to become a demon."

  "But it's" Michael's voice cracked slightly. "Rocks can't—"

  "Everything has a spirit." I cut him off, my tone flat. "The how and why—you probably wouldn't believe me anyway."

  Michael opened his mouth, then closed it. Nothing came out.

  I turned away from him, addressing the group. "We're done for now. Tonight, we come back."

  " Jasper's eyes went huge.

  "Tonight." I looked at each of them in turn. "Whatever's buried here—whatever secrets this place holds—we'll know them by morning."

  Something shifted in their expressions. Michael's face, especially, was a battlefield of emotions—fear, hope, hunger, all fighting for control. This meant everything to him. His career. His project. His future.

  "That's..." He swallowed hard. "That's... wonderful."

  — Night Burial —

  Back in the village by early afternoon. I tried to send Lucky home—his part was done, he'd earned his rest. But the stubborn fool wouldn't budge. He wanted to see what came next. Wanted to witness whatever rose from that pit tonight. I didn't have the energy to argue.

  I was heading upstairs when I heard voices. Clara, speaking with someone.

  I found Fraser at the door, clearly about to leave.

  "Arcturus!" He turned back immediately, almost bumping into me. "I thought you were resting, I'm so sorry, the noise—"

  "You weren't disturbing me. What's wrong?"

  He glanced at Clara, then down at his hands, rubbing them together nervously. "It's... it's my mother's burial. Tonight. You know everything that's happened since she passed, and I'm terrified something else will go wrong. I came to ask if you'd be there, but Clara said you have business tonight, so I'll just—" He was already backing away. "I understand completely. I just... feel safer with you around, that's all."

  "Don't worry." I kept my voice calm, steady. "Nothing will go wrong. Bury her in peace. If anything happens—call me."

  He thanked me a dozen times before finally leaving.

  I turned to find Clara watching me, hesitation written across her face.

  "What is it?"

  She bit her lip. "Rhan... tonight. Can I come with you?"

  "No. You're staying here."

  The disappointment that flooded her features nearly broke my resolve.

  "Tonight will be dangerous." I held her gaze. "I don't know what's coming. And you're—" I stopped myself before I could finish that sentence. *You're someone I need to protect.* "Your energy. It's not right for places like this."

  She was quiet for a long moment. Then she nodded, just once.

  "Be careful, then. All of you."