“In fields of green, under moon so blue…”

  Leonardo lifted his voice and began to sing the ancient folk song “The Cerulean Moon.” His voice was deep and warm, steady and enduring, like that of a moss-covered oak tree that had weathered many seasons of storm and calm.

  “…Our hearts unite, in peace so true…”

  The crowd joined in almost at once, their chorus swelling and echoing across the valley.

  “…Oh, peace, sweet peace, our guiding light,

  Through darkest days and endless night…”

  The living and the spirits, beastkin and bloodkin, plants and animals, all raised their voices together in unison, singing the song that had lasted for nine thousand years.

  Luther held Pompo in his arms, while Aaron carried a small wooden basket with Jack-O and Squashy nestled inside.

  The eyes and mouths of the three pumpkins glowed with golden fire, tinged with soft blue.

  “Squeak squeak squeak…” they hummed along, imitating the melody in their own way.

  “…In raging storms and crying skies,

  With hearts as one, we’ll rise up high…”

  Hand in hand, Aaron and Luther sang together, broad smiles lighting their faces.

  “…Till wars and strife forever cease…” Acher murmured the line under his breath, repeating the words he had just heard.

  The parade began from the Therompós Temple, winding its way down Grainy Road that stretched along the shores of Lake Nerardeusis. At its end lay a series of steps leading upward to Echo Hill.

  It was a low, wide hill covered in fresh, vivid green grass. On top of it stood a structure built of white marble.

  The Serene Temple looked more like a stone plaza or a memorial than a traditional temple. It consisted of a pentagonal stone platform, with a round black table set at its center. Surrounding it were five tall marble monoliths, each engraved with inscriptions in many different tongues: Ancient Greek, the Titans’ language, the nymphs’ tongue, the dragons’ language, Agares ancient tongue, and many more.

  On the table's surface was a carved image of a full moon sinking into the Flow of Destiny. Leonardo stepped forward and placed the wheat-shaped lantern he carried on top of the carved moon.

  “We sincerely beseech the Great Flow to bless us with a new year of peace and prosperity…” he recited aloud, the words of the yearly prayer rolling out across the hushed gathering.

  Ideally, this ceremony was meant to be held on Serenity Night, but on that day, most people preferred to stay home with their families. Because of this, Sicily, being a tourist city, held its Moonlight Festival in mid-December, a week before Serenity.

  When Leonardo finished speaking, the moonlight above slowly condensed into countless glowing grains of wheat. They drifted downward with gentle grace, falling through the air like snowflakes.

  Luther stretched out his hand and caught one. The instant it touched his palm, he felt his body grow light. Every negative thought in his mind faded away, replaced by an indescribable sense of peace.

  “This is amazing,” Aaron said, smiling brightly.

  Then he noticed Luther’s eyes widened a little bit, tugging his coat to cover his right hand.

  “What is it? You okay?” he asked, leaning closer to take a look.

  There in Luther’s grasp, Aaron caught sight of the Book of Fate opening on his palm. On the page, a dark purple dot had appeared, marking the exact spot where their group was standing.

  Drawing in a steady breath, Luther said:

  “A mandatory mission.”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “What the fucking Flow is this? Another mandatory mission already?” Acher flared up at once, completely irritated. “For an ordinary messenger of Hell, a mandatory mission might only happen once in several decades, or even centuries. Why does the Flow keep giving you such a hard time? It should be the other way around, damn it!”

  Yet deep within, he already knew the truth. Luther was not, and never would be, a “normal messenger of Hell.”

  “It’s happening right here, and we just have one hour to deal with it,” Aaron said.

  Luther had told him about this kind of mission. Only then did Aaron understand why that night Luther had risked everything, even his life, to save a stranger he had never met before.

  “We’ve been here for a while, but I still don’t notice anything strange yet, though,” Aaron murmured under his breath. “Do you sense any trace of dark magic? Or perhaps some demon lurking nearby?”

  Luther shook his head.

  All around them, glowing wheat grains kept drifting down from above, filling the air in a thick shower of light. The crowd reached their hands out, laughing and celebrating as they caught them.

  Then, in the sky, a larger point of radiance began to form. It thickened into a teardrop-shaped seed, shimmering with emerald light, before drifting down toward Leonardo.

  “This year’s Gift of Peace is a seed again? I wonder what kind of plant it might grow into,” muttered an elderly witch, her eyes narrowing with curiosity.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Acher asked.

  “I read something about this in the hotel catalog,” Aaron explained. “Every year, once the prayer ritual of Serenity is completed, the Flow sends a random gift to the hosting places. It could be anything like a piece of cloth, a single feather, a droplet of water… In Sicily, most of the time it turns out to be fruits, seeds, or something related to plants. The ordinary gifts are displayed in the city’s museum, but if a gift is unusual or rare, it gets taken to Chlorarborion.”

  Acher clicked his tongue with interest. “Now that’s something worth noting.”

  Leonardo raised a small jade box with both hands, catching the falling seed before closing the lid. He began his concluding speech with a calm voice:

  “On behalf of the city council, I would like to thank all our guests who have traveled from distant lands, as well as the citizens of Sicily, for joining this year’s Moonlight Festival…”

  “Ssshhhhttttt.”

  A sound came sharp and tearing, like fabric being ripped apart, cutting across his words.

  “Oh heavens above!”

  “What in the world is that?”

  “Who dares interrupt the ritual? Security, get this under control, now!”

  Above the Serene Temple, a long crack spread across the sky, stretching over half a mile. Beyond it lay a bizarre realm, its sky filled with multiple gigantic bubbles, each one a different color.

  Not far from the opening, people could see a circular sacrificial altar carved from black and red stone. It was surrounded by thousands of headless corpses, each one frozen in a posture of prayer, hands clasped to their chest. From the necks of several recently executed victims, blood still poured out, running down into a red pool at the altar’s center.

  “What madness is this?”

  “This is unforgivable! All those behind this must be arrested!”

  “Don’t look, Annie!”

  “Mother, I’m scared!”

  “Urghhh.” Someone in the crowd could no longer hold back and vomited.

  Shouts and frightened cries filled the air. Some trembled in fear, but many were angry and shouted curses.

  “Sicily does not negotiate with those who bring violence!”

  “This is a message. And we have to answer it in blood!”

  Even amid a huge chaos, no trace of panic touched Leonardo’s expression. As a Grand Druid who had lived for centuries, he was confident that in the modern-day Origin, there were few things that could truly threaten him.

  “Show yourself,” he declared, flying upward toward the rift.

  When he was only a few dozen feet away, a whisper of prayer reached his ears:

  “O Sable One, please have mercy on us, your devoted servants, and cast judgment upon the wandering traitors who have turned away from you…”

  The blood pooled within the stone basin began to shrink, thickening until every drop was absorbed into a single object at the bottom. It was a small fragment of bone, ivory white in color, no larger than half a fingernail, radiating with a grim, dark glow.

  For the first time, Leonardo’s brows drew together a little bit.

  “The Sable One? You Eclipse Cult’s members still dare to show yourselves?” He raised his voice. “If you believe invoking that name will save you, then you have gravely misjudged your place.”

  Aaron and Luther could see more things than other people.

  “It’s them! The spiders that murdered Tony’s wife and friend! This is a portal leading to Dream Realm.” His fists tightened with anger.

  “Oh, so it turns out to be these filthy little rats. You two better watch yourselves,” Acher warned. “Now this is worth watching. The Breath of Nature may look gentle on the surface, but mess with them and you’ll find out real fast.”

  “What do you mean?” Aaron asked, confused. “Everyone here seems really nice.”

  Acher let out a low, humorless chuckle. “That’s because you’re only seeing their gentle side. The folks of the Breath of Nature don’t bare their fangs unless someone forces them to. But once they do…” His eyes narrowed as he watched the rift above. “...they are among the most vicious powers in the cosmos. They do not seek war, nor do they fear it, and they never forget a wound.”

  “Those who cross them don’t just die. They’re hunted, uprooted, erased completely, and Chlorarborion will make sure the entire cosmos knows who did it. That’s what makes this strange. Of all people to provoke, the Eclipse Cult chose one that answers blood with annihilation.”

  Acher’s gaze sharpened. “Whatever those rats are planning, they’ve just declared war on an enemy that will not stop until the debt is paid in full.”

  “And what exactly is the Eclipse Cult?” Aaron asked.

  “It’s a sect formed by creatures who worship ‘that one.’ Though, honestly, he never seems to care about them at all.”

  “Who is ‘that one’?”

  “Lord of Prodo (The Ninth Layer).”