PA4-10 | The Saintess Sealed Beneath the Reservoir

  — Millennium-Old Seal —

  Silas Nightseer relit his pipe. Smoke coiled upward, softening the hard lines of his face until his features blurred into a silhouette, as though time itself were erasing him. When he spoke again, his voice carried the weight of centuries.

  "This story began more than two thousand years ago. The Roman Empire had only just risen. War scarred much of the known world, and famine followed in its wake. Yet this region alone remained untouched—an island of peace and abundance, sheltered beneath the protection of the Saintess."

  He paused, letting the smoke drift between us.

  "The Saintess was no myth. She was a living woman, her power passed down through generations. She could commune with heaven and earth, channeling spiritual energy to shield this land from disaster. The villagers worshipped her as a deity. For many years, their offerings never ceased."

  His fingers tightened slightly around the stem of the pipe.

  "But as the world stabilized and life grew easier, reverence withered. Offerings dwindled. Incense went unlit. In time, even the Saintess was forced to work the fields to survive. Gratitude faded. Bitterness took its place."

  Silas lifted his cup and drank, though the tea had long since gone cold.

  "She came to believe that only suffering would remind people of her worth. And so, through her connection to the unseen, she summoned a drought demon. For three years, the skies withheld their rain. The earth split open. Crops failed. Famine devoured the land."

  His voice dropped.

  "More than a hundred lives were lost."

  "That's not a saintess," Clara snapped, her fists clenched. "That's a monster."

  Jasper nodded sharply. "A 'god' like that deserves to be erased from memory."

  Silas turned his blind eyes toward them. Though sightless, they seemed to look straight through us.

  "You're right. Before the villagers could even beg for mercy, a wandering monk passed through this place. He saw the truth and exposed her crimes. The Saintess expected worship to return to her. Instead, she became an object of universal hatred."

  A chill crept into Silas's tone.

  "Humiliation shattered what remained of her sanity. That night, she turned her power upon the people she once protected. Her spiritual force twisted into slaughter. By dawn, the village had become a field of corpses. Bodies lay piled like fallen timber. Blood soaked the earth."

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  Jasper swallowed hard. "What happened to the monk?"

  "He fought her," Silas said quietly. "Their battle darkened the sky. After countless exchanges, he uncovered her one fatal weakness—she feared water. Sacrificing his own cultivation and lifespan, he performed a forbidden rite and summoned a deluge. The flood buried her deep beneath the earth... where the reservoir now stands."

  The room felt colder.

  "To ensure she would never rise again, the monk carved the Nine Dragons Binding Formation, anchoring her prison to nine earth-dragon veins. Before leaving, he gave the survivors a single prophecy."

  Silas enunciated each word as if carving them into stone.

  "When the water runs dry, mankind shall die."

  The silence that followed was absolute.

  Jasper's anger drained from his face, replaced by dread. Clara inhaled sharply.

  As for me, I stared into my own cup of tea. Its surface was calm—but beneath it, something violent seemed to churn.

  ---

  — The Truth Unveiled —

  Silas took another slow sip before continuing.

  "For more than two thousand years, the forest remained thick, and the reservoir's water level never changed. Drought could not touch it. Storms could not swell it. It endured—unchanging. Until one year ago."

  We held our breath.

  "Whether from deforestation or the over-extraction of groundwater, the reservoir began to recede. A year ago, it finally dried up completely."

  "The prophecy..." Jasper whispered.

  "Yes," Silas said. "That was when I knew calamity had begun to stir. To keep people away, I spread the rumor that anyone who approached would lose ten years of their life—and suffer ten years of misfortune."

  So the village superstition was no accident. It was his shield.

  "Then why didn't you stop the construction?" I asked.

  A tired bitterness edged into his voice.

  "Would they have listened? People believe only in what can be measured and exploited. If profit is to be had, ancient warnings mean nothing. They don't stop until catastrophe is already upon them."

  He lowered his head slightly.

  "It isn't that I wouldn't act. It's that my power is no longer enough."

  "So now that the water is gone... disaster is inevitable?"

  "Yes." His expression darkened. "Mr. Arcturus, you said the soil grew drier the deeper they dug."

  "That's right."

  "Then she has already won. It's highly likely she has subdued the nine dragons that once bound her."

  My pulse quickened. "You mean... the dragons serve her now?"

  "That is my judgment."

  His tone shifted when he sensed me.

  "That is why I was relieved when I learned you are a Dragon-Slayer."

  "And the serpent nest they uncovered earlier?" I asked. "The giant snake?"

  Silas fell silent. Then he turned toward the reservoir, his voice barely above a whisper.

  "That was my doing. I summoned them to slow the work. I couldn't confront the site directly, so I tried to force the issue—to make them realize they needed help."

  A faint tremor entered his voice.

  "They brought in other practitioners before you. At least one of them never made it back."

  "You caused his death?" Jasper asked.

  "No." Silas's voice hardened. "His died because he trespassed upon what sleeps beneath."

  A chill crawled down my spine.

  So this was the truth of his power—to commune with the unseen, to command spirits and beasts alike.

  "And the rats," I said. "The ones that grew monstrous overnight?"

  "They fed on her leaking power."

  My stomach tightened. "So the Saintess's aura can grant animals... unnatural abilities?"

  "Yes. After two millennia of accumulation, her power has become a reservoir of its own. It can accelerate growth, grant beasts the semblance of human form, and allow wandering souls to walk again in flesh."

  Everything snapped into place—the writhing earth at the construction site, the bodies that seemed to bury themselves, the swarming rats, the eruption of white fog, the wild boars we encountered.

  All of it pointed back to a single, buried truth.

  Silas's face twitched. He rose from his chair, his posture solemn.

  "Mr. Arcturus," he said quietly, "I foresaw that she would fully break free on January fifteenth. When that happens, this land will be devastated. I ask you—no, I beg you—to stop her before that day arrives. My power is spent, but whatever aid I can offer, I will not withhold."

  He bowed deeply.

  The gesture carried the weight of desperation—and of hope.