PA4-11 | The Saintess Sealed Beneath the Reservoir

  — The Seer Who Should Not Walk —

  Truthfully, I had no idea if I could actually pull this off.

  The words Silas had spoken still echoed in my mind, heavy as a curse.

  If he was right—if only someone who had once slain a dragon could stand against what slept beneath the reservoir—then I simply wasn't that person anymore. That version of me felt distant, like a half-remembered dream.

  Sure, Silas Nightseer had divined my past through bone-casting and declared I had done it once. But that was in another life. Another self. Not the man I was now.

  As the doubt settled in, Silas's clouded eyes turned toward me.

  "Something troubles you, Rhan. Your confidence wavers."

  A chill slid down my spine.

  He could sense that? The timing was too precise to be coincidence. It made me question, for the first time, just how blind he really was.

  "It's... not about confidence," I said after a brief pause. "The person you're talking about... might not be who I am now."

  "You have merely forgotten," he replied, his voice calm, smooth as still water. "But what is done becomes part of you. It follows the soul. A mark that never fades from the soul."

  The words settled uneasily in my chest.

  The man was unnervingly perceptive—too perceptive. Letting him read my bones in the first place was starting to feel like a mistake I hadn't fully understood at the time.

  After a few more minutes of strained silence, I stood, citing preparations. Silas didn't try to stop me.

  "If you have need," he said simply, "you know where to find me."

  Outside, the afternoon air felt sharper against my skin. Clara hurried after me, her steps hesitant.

  "There's something..." She lowered her voice. "I don't know if I should mention it."

  "Go ahead."

  "I saw a pair of shoes in Silas's house. Caked in mud. Really dirty."

  "Oh?" I slowed. The word slipped out before I could stop it.

  She didn't wait for my question. "He's blind. He shouldn't be going out much. But the mud was fresh. He's been out recently. Within the last day or two."

  I nodded slowly. A detail I'd missed.

  And for the first time, a troubling thought crossed my mind—perhaps Silas was not merely watching the seal.

  "What color was the mud?"

  "Yellow. A bright, clay-like yellow."

  Of course she noticed that. Clara always noticed what others overlooked.

  I exhaled, pushing the unease aside. "We'll come back to this later. What's happening at the reservoir comes first."

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  I stepped away and called Michael, listing what we'd need for the ritual—tools, chains, reinforced ropes, personnel who wouldn't panic when things went wrong.

  Finally, I added, "Uncle Michael, can you find us an excavator operator? Someone born under Leo or Scorpio."

  "I'll find one," he replied without hesitation.

  ---

  — The Seal Stirs —

  Michael arrived the next morning with a man in his forties—dark-skinned, solidly built, with forearms thickened by years of manual labor.

  "Our excavator operator. A Leo," Michael said. "Will he do?"

  I offered my hand. "Rhan Arcturus."

  The man shook it, his grip rough and calloused. His eyes flicked briefly to the pit beyond us, then away.

  "Lucky Hale, sir. My folks... well, they weren't educated. Saw I was a Leo and thought the name fit."

  "Lucky the Leo. 'The favored one.'" I studied him for a moment. "It fits well enough."

  He forced a small smile, though his shoulders remained tense.

  "You know what happened at the site," I said. "What we're asking you to dig for. Are you afraid?"

  Lucky scratched the back of his neck, eyes downcast.

  "I'm more afraid my boy won't have school fees next week."

  Life had a way of burning fear out of a man—especially when there was a child waiting at home.

  "Do this," I said, "and there's a hundred thousand in it for you."

  His face drained of color. "No, sir, that's... that's too much." He waved his hands quickly, glancing at Michael. "Mr. Hargreaves's rate is fine. I still want work after this."

  Michael stepped in, his tone firm. "Mr. Arcturus sets the price. Your job is safe. Do this well, and there's a foreman's title waiting for you too."

  Lucky froze. "Really?"

  "My word on it."

  A long breath left his chest. "Then... I'll get it done."

  The five of us—Michael, Lucky, Clara, Jasper, and I—made our way to the pit where Jasper's mother had been found. The heart of the seal. The Saint's prison.

  Even in daylight, the place felt wrong. The air lay heavy over the exposed earth, as if the ground itself were holding its breath.

  Following the diagrams in The Meta Codex for the "Binding Demon Formation," I placed twelve ancient silver coins along the pit's edge, aligning each with its corresponding zodiac sign. The metal was cold when I touched it, colder than the morning air should have allowed.

  After double-checking their positions, I took out the Heavenly Cross.

  Sitting at the array's center, I closed my eyes, clasped my hands around the relic, and focused my will—threading a tenuous connection between the cross and each coin, one by one.

  At first, nothing happened.

  Then the coins began to hum, a faint vibration that traveled up through my knees and into my bones.

  Light followed—thin, luminous strands rising from the silver discs, weaving themselves into a delicate net suspended over the pit.

  The Binding Demon Formation.

  I'd never activated one before. I hadn't expected it to be... beautiful.

  Clara inhaled sharply. "Look! Something's coming out of the ground!"

  Where she pointed, several furry shapes forced their way up through the loosened soil, each about the size of a large cat.

  "Are those... rats? Or martens?" Jasper blurted.

  I caught sight of the hairless, whip-like tails. "Rats."

  "Rats that big?" His voice wavered. "Are they... spirits?"

  I shook my head, though I understood the instinctive fear.

  The array was warping the local geomagnetic field. Creatures that fed on spiritual residue were being forced out of hiding. Like the horde I'd seen that night, they were drawn to the Saint's lingering power. At that size, they weren't far from becoming something else entirely.

  "There's more!" Clara said, pointing again.

  The earth yielded other shapes—snakes, hedgehogs, foxes, creatures once called the "Five Great Spirits" in old local folklore. Pangolins followed, then centipedes, a whole crawling bestiary fleeing the disturbed ground.

  After nearly an hour, the exodus slowed, then ceased. The pit lay bare and eerily quiet.

  I gathered my focus once more, forcing energy through the Heavenly Cross.

  The coins shuddered violently.

  BOOM.

  The earth heaved.

  A crushing pressure slammed into my chest, like invisible hands squeezing the air from my lungs. Cracks spiderwebbed from the pit's edge. A wave of frigid, stagnant air burst upward, reeking of damp stone and something far older. I lost my footing and hit the ground hard.

  Outside the array, the others staggered as the tremor rippled through the site.

  Clara took a step forward.

  "Stay back!" I shouted, forcing myself upright. "Don't cross the line!"

  I could feel it now.

  The thing beneath us was moving. Straining against its prison. It was close—closer than I'd hoped.

  I stumbled out of the array, breath ragged. "Jasper! The ropes and chains. Now!"

  Then I lifted my gaze to the sky. The words left me in a low whisper.

  "Now... we wait for the rain."

  Jasper, Michael, and Lucky stared at me—then up at the clear, cloudless expanse above.

  Their faces were etched with pure confusion.

  Above us, the sky remained empty.

  Below us, something ancient had just taken its first breath.