Mab is a freelance author, you can support them on:

Motes of dust floated in the thick, musty air, stirred for the first time in a decade by the measured march of armed men and women. Their footsteps echoed through the dark corridors, weapons at the ready, their eyes scanning every shadow, escorting the two figures at the center of their formation.

The first was Yamato Sumireko, Special Ambassador and Minister of Religious Affairs, adorned in the ceremonial garb of the Land of the Rising Sun. Her elaborate headpiece and the ornate layers of her robe gave her an almost ethereal presence, as though she were gliding effortlessly across the stone floor. Yet the faint tension in her expression betrayed the calm demeanor she struggled to maintain.

Beside her was Hildara Eriz, the sleep-deprived Chief of Internal Affairs. In stark contrast to Yamato’s ceremonial splendor, Hildara looked practical, even casual, in her knee-length brown coat worn over a wrinkled white shirt tucked into high-waisted black trousers.

As the group made their way through the shadowy corridors, Hildara glanced up at the ceilings above. Sections of the walls had crumbled, revealing a raw, cavernous texture beneath the stonework. “To think there’s a facility this massive under the church. This place must stretch all the way to the edges of Lamra.”

Yamato remained silent, her focus fixed straight ahead.

“Can you imagine Lancelot coming with us? He’d probably get stuck again—like in Batavia. It took an entire week to pull him out of that ravine.”

“That was his own fault for insisting on taking the quest despite his build,” Yamato replied, finally breaking her silence. “Good thing he’s as sturdy as he is stubborn. I still can’t believe he’s fully human.” She sighed, her tone softening slightly. “That said, his monstrous strength might actually come in handy here. If there’s a fully realized god down here, we’ll need every bit of help we can get.”

“Well, we’ve got to find this god first before we can Portspell him,” Hildara quipped as the group stopped at yet another branching path. “If only this place wasn’t such a maze.”

“It’s this way.”

“What did you say?” Hildara turned to Yamato, who stared down the path ahead, confusion etched on her face.

“I said nothing,” Yamato replied, but her expression shifted as realization dawned. “You think it’s…?”

Hildara nodded grimly. “Let’s follow it.”

At her command, the group took the left turn, marking their trail with streaks of yellow paint to ensure their way back. The silence of their march was soon broken by a sound that sent a shiver down their spines—a child’s laughter echoing faintly through the darkness.

“Hehehe.”

One of the soldiers audibly gulped but kept their composure, gripping their weapon tighter. The group pressed on, even as the voices became more frequent, echoing through the darkness like distant whispers.

“She’s waiting.”
“Not that way, this way.”
“It’s been sooo long.”
“This way, this way!”
“You’re looking for Mama right?”
“This way! Yay!”
“We’re finally going outside!”
“Watch out, that guy’s a meanie.”

The ethereal, disembodied voices guided them deeper into the maze, drawing them forward. Eventually, they stumbled upon something grotesque—a lifeless, skinless creature sprawled in the corridor, its three hearts impaled by jagged metal pipes. The figure lay motionless, yet its flesh showed no signs of decay, as though time itself refused to touch it.

After passing through several more chambers, they emerged into a vast open cavern. An underground lake stretched out before them, its surface reflecting the dim glow of crystals embedded in the cave walls. Near the entrance stood a massive white boulder, silent and imposing. The voice that had guided them here had gone silent, leaving only the soft lapping of water and the faint hum of the cavern to fill the air. At the lake’s center, a small shrine perched on a rocky outcrop drew their attention.

“An underground lake,” Yamato observed, her gaze scanning the tranquil scene. “No wonder they could perform an Advent ritual here. Places like this are called shinkaimon—gateways to the realm of the gods. Spiritual energy gathers naturally in such places.”

“Do you think the god is inside that shrine?” Hildara asked, her tone skeptical as she eyed the distant structure.

“Hard to say,” Yamato replied thoughtfully, her eyes narrowing as she studied the shrine. “It seems designed to ward off demons and balance spiritual energy. But—”

Without finishing her thought, Yamato stepped toward the lake with purpose. As her foot touched the water’s surface, it did not sink. Instead, she walked across the lake as if it were solid ground, each step sending gentle ripples across the mirrored surface.

“I’ll check if a spirit resides there. If it does, perhaps it can tell us what transpired here.”

“You do that. I’ll contact Lancelot and get him over here,” Hildara replied, stepping aside.

As Yamato moved farther across the lake, Hildara leaned against the massive boulder near the entrance. She absently twisted the ring on her left middle finger when—

“There’s nobody there.”

The boulder spoke.

With a leap, Hildara swiftly distanced herself from the white boulder as it began to hum, silver veins faintly glowing across its surface. A deep, resonating rumble followed as the rock cracked and shifted, shedding its form like a cocoon. Fragments of stone crumbled away, revealing fur as silvery as moonlight beneath.

The boulder reshaped into the towering figure of a bear, its limbs strong and fluid, its eyes glowing with a jade green light. As it stood fully formed, its presence filled the cavern with a calm yet commanding aura.

The Bear God lowered its gaze to Hildara and spoke, its voice deep and measured.

“Is it true that you are looking for me?”

The question resonated in the minds of all present as the ghostly figure of a young boy materialized on the bear’s shoulder. The boy’s face lit up with a wide, joyful smile, like a child eager for praise after completing a good deed.

The soldiers instinctively tensed, some raising their weapons, but Hildara quickly gestured for them to stand down. Yamato, still halfway across the lake, was too far to intervene, leaving Hildara to handle the situation.

Choosing her words carefully, Hildara stepped forward.

“My sincerest apologies for disturbing your slumber. My name is Hildara Eriz, and I represent the people of Lamra. There’s been a disturbance in town, and we’ve heard a god may be involved. We’ve come to guide you back to your realm and restore balance where it belongs.”

The bear tilted its massive head, a thoughtful rumble resonating from its chest. “A god…” it mused aloud.

“This place is nothing more than a remnant of torment and tragedy. I don’t believe you’ll find a god here.”

As it spoke, it gently lifted the ghostly boy from its shoulder, placing him on the ground with surprising tenderness. Its enormous paw ruffled the boy’s hair, drawing a delighted giggle from him before he dissolved into a wisp of silver mist. Moments later, the boy reappeared atop the bear’s head, still grinning.

“More importantly,” the bear continued, its voice heavy with curiosity, “is the world above a safe place now? Have the wars finally ended?”

“The wars… ended a few years ago, but—” Hildara hesitated, her words faltering. Something about the situation felt off, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Before she could gather her thoughts, Yamato arrived. Despite her haste, she showed no sign of exhaustion and immediately assumed a ceremonial bowing posture.

“Great Kumagami,” she began, her voice calm yet reverent. “I am Yamato Sumireko, messenger of the Great Lady Benten of the Seven Lucky Gods. I have come to aid in freeing you from your bindings to this mortal world. Would you kindly consider returning to the Realm of the Gods?”

“Kumagami?” The bear’s jade-green eyes glowed softly, reflecting its confusion.

“A great bear deity, all-encompassing and all-powerful,” Yamato explained. “The spirit of Mother Nature, guardian of the forest, and protector of the young. It is you, Great Kumagami. Have you not recognized your name?”

The bear lowered its head, its voice heavy with uncertainty. “I… am not sure. I have been within these walls for as long as I can remember.”

“B-but, that can’t be!” Yamato exclaimed, her voice rising with indignation. “Did they erase your memories somehow? Such blasphemy!”

“Excuse me, may I?” Hildara stepped forward, cutting through Yamato’s growing offense with a calm tone. “I fear there may be a misunderstanding between us.”

“A misunderstanding?”

“Yes,” Hildara affirmed, meeting the bear’s glowing jade eyes. A gnawing sense of familiarity tugged at the back of her mind, but she shoved it for now. “The truth is, we uncovered recordings made by a man named Peter Haumann. These recordings detailed an attempt to bind a god to this world. When we saw you, we believed you might be the deity in question.”

Yamato shot Hildara a look of disbelief, her expression clearly saying, Unbelievable, but the bear seemed more focused on her words. Its massive form shifted slightly, and a thoughtful rumble escaped its chest.

“…Tell me, is it the log for Subject 480?”

“Yes,” Hildara replied without hesitation. “But the logs are incomplete, and we don’t have all the details. Could you tell us what happened?”

The bear paused, its expression unreadable, before it finally spoke.

“…That girl died because I was powerless. I don’t even know her name. All I remember is her smile—radiant, like the sun—a smile I failed to protect.”

As the bear spoke, its colossal frame began to shrink. Its silver fur rippled, dissolving like mist caught in the morning light, revealing smooth, pale skin beneath. The powerful limbs reformed into slender arms and legs, and the jade-green glow in its eyes softened, fading into a more human hue.

When the transformation ended, a young girl stood in the bear’s place. Her long, gray hair fell in soft waves, cascading past her waist and glinting faintly in the cavern’s light. She was clothed in a simple, tattered hospital gown, its thin fabric worn and frayed at the edges, gently shifting with her every movement.

Her bare feet touched the stone floor with quiet grace, and though her frame was slight, an air of calm strength surrounded her. Her voice, soft yet resolute, carried through the stillness.

“I might be the ‘god’ you are looking for—but there is a promise I must fulfill first.”

♢♦♢♦♢

The journey back from the depths of the facility was somehow even quieter than the descent. Though their group now had an additional member—a teenage girl, seemingly around sixteen, draped in a tattered hospital gown and Hildara’s brown coat—the weight of countless souls seemed to press down on them all. The presence of a ghostly boy cheerfully frolicking nearby did little to ease the tension.

Yamato seemed conflicted about how to address the girl.

The girl was a paradox—on one hand, she emanated immense spiritual power, she was summoned through an Advent ritual, and her body bore the sacred markings of a Shrine Maiden. By all accounts, she fit the profile of a god or, at the very least, a deity. Yet, her own words contradicted that notion. She claimed no connection to any pantheon, remembered no Creation Myth, and carried only fragmented memories of death in an unknown world. Yamato tread carefully; offending such a mysterious and powerful entity was unthinkable.

As for Hildara, ever the pragmatist—

“So, what should we call you?”

“?” The girl tilted her head at Hildara’s all-too-casual question, her face an unreadable mask.

“You need a name,” Hildara pressed. “You don’t know your own, and we can’t exactly go around calling you ‘Four Eighty.’”

“The little ones call me Mama and Bear,” the girl said flatly. “You can call me whatever you want.”

“That won’t do,” Yamato interjected firmly. “Names hold power in this world. Your name is more than a label—it defines who you are. It’s tied to your fate, shapes your present, and guides your future.”

The girl considered this for a moment, her gaze distant. “Then I am Four Eighty-One,” she said finally, her voice steady but devoid of emotion. “Someone who came after and someone who carries her will. That is who I am. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Hildara scoffed lightly as they began ascending the stairs. “That’s way too clinical. How about something a little warmer—like Abby?”

“Abby?” the girl echoed, glancing curiously at Hildara.

“Yeah,” Hildara said with a grin. “If you write the numbers 4, 8, and 1 a certain way, it kind of looks like A, B, and I. Abby—short for Abigail. What do you think?”

The girl glanced to the side, as if consulting the ghostly boy who met her gaze. The boy beamed and gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up, his grin as wide as ever.

“I think they like it,” the girl—Abigail—replied with a faint, yet genuine, smile.

The group ascended the final steps of the underground staircase, emerging into the church’s main hall. Shadows stretched long across the vast space, the dim light filtering in through fractured, tinted windows. Signs of past chaos were evident—shattered furniture, charred marks on the walls—but now, silence reigned.

Ahead, the church’s heavy wooden doors loomed. Two soldiers stepped forward and pulled them open with a groan of aged hinges. A rush of cool, fresh air swept inside, brushing Abigail’s face and sending strands of her long gray hair fluttering. She took a step forward, her bare feet light against the cold stone, and the world beyond unfolded before her.

The sky greeted her like a living canvas, painted in bold strokes of deep blue and fiery orange. Soft ribbons of silver and gray clouds drifting lazily, their edges kissed with the golden light of dawn. The sun itself hovered just above the horizon, casting a warm, golden sheen across the landscape.

From the hilltop, Abigail’s gaze swept over the town below, waking up and stirring to life as its narrow streets and sloping rooftops illuminated in the gentle light of morning. The seas lay beyond, glittering as if scattered with jewels. To the west, the last faint stars still shimmered in defiance of the coming day, their glow fading into the endless canvas of sky.

A sudden shadow passed overhead, followed by the rhythmic sound of powerful wings cutting through the air. Abigail looked up just as a great dragon soared above, its immense form outlined against the dawn. The downdraft from its wings sent a gust of wind swirling around her, making her coat and hair dance. Moments later, more dragons appeared, their majestic shapes gliding effortlessly through the sky, weaving and diving in a display of unbridled freedom.

“Welcome to Dragonsworne,” Hildara said, stepping beside her, her voice steady with pride. “The Land of the Dragons.”

⇐ Previous

Next ⇒

⌈ Index ⌋