The priest lingered.
He remained in Whistlehollow far longer than a wandering cleric should. The townsfolk, ever trusting, welcomed him with polite smiles and fresh bread. They listened to his sermons by the well and laughed at his stories. But Rina did not.
She watched him.
Each time he wandered near her cottage. Each time he asked about Aleron—always indirectly, always sweetly. "Such a quiet boy," he had said once. "Is he yours? You don't seem the type to settle down."
Rina smiled then, but her hands had stilled. And that night, she slipped into the forest earlier than usual.
She knelt beneath the gnarled branches of a willow tree, far beyond the edge of the fields, and lit three pale-blue stones in a circle.
A soft pulse of mana answered her call.
The air thickened. The grass stilled.
Rina whispered a word not spoken aloud in years—and from the trees, a creature stepped forth. A summon cloaked in mist, its form feline, yet wreathed in thorned vines and shadow. It bowed to her.
"Watch the cottage," she said. "And the priest."
The creature vanished.
The next morning, Whistlehollow awoke to clearer skies than usual. The merchants passing through called it a sign of blessing. Rina didn't speak.
In her cottage, Aleron stirred. He yawned, then fell asleep again, eyes fluttering in dreams.
[Stasis Recovery: 23% Complete]
[Divine Protocol Stable]
Still silent. Still healing.
But outside the quiet of the cradle, the village had changed.
Monsters had begun to appear more frequently at the edges of Whistlehollow. At first, they were small—wandering beasts and night-crawlers. Then came the shadows—silent, clawed things that moved unnaturally through the grass.
It started the same week the priest arrived.
Rina took to nightly patrols. She summoned in silence, cloaked herself in old wards. She fought quickly and quietly—never allowing the creatures to reach the village edge.
But one night, after slaying a creature that bled smoke and left the air sour with rot, she caught something strange.
A trail of mana.
She pressed her palm to the earth, let her senses reach out. Her brows furrowed.
The energy signature was familiar—subtle, but distinct. It echoed the same gentle hum the priest carried when he walked by.
Her expression darkened.
That evening, the priest came again.
He brought tea. An offering of goodwill. Rina accepted, barely.
"I feel it," he said quietly, sipping. "The air here is... too clean. As if something is scrubbing the world around this place. Do you know why that is?"
Rina's smile didn't falter. "Blessings, perhaps."
He tilted his head. "Or something older. Something hidden."
They sat in silence a little longer, the tension settling between them like dust.
Later, after he left, Rina opened a box hidden beneath the floorboards.
Inside: a sealed scroll, a sliver of mana crystal, and an old brooch shaped like a falling star.
She closed the box without a word.
Outside, the summoned beast circled in the trees.
Watching.
Waiting.
The flame had not gone out.
And neither had its guardian.