“They’re getting stronger, don’t you agree, Keelie?” asked the high priestess.
“I’m sorry, Mistress, the Dark Ones have learned to hide from my people,” replied the Torg.
The pillars have stopped dark forces from entering our realm for thousands of years.
“Tutok, you sense something, don’t you?” the priestess asked her Mewl, who’d been on edge the entire evening.
When the ancients finished the pillars, they created the watchers. Who protects the stones if a Dark One slips through?
“What does this make thirty times in the last year?” questioned the priestess protector.
“Yes. I’m afraid the Dark One’s attacks will continue,” the priestess replied.
Anam Ċara was the last priestess from the Morana line. When she passed, the guardian witches would need to choose a new line from another clan.
“If you’re killed, Mistress, the stone’s protection will weaken. Even the Torg have suffered losses, yet the Mortok seems to grow stronger each new cycle,” said Keelie.
“Time awaits for no one, Keelie. We will soon need to return to the stars and leave this planet’s fate to its spirits,” remarked the priestess.
Before the dawn of time, Anam Ċara and Keelie’s people set out across the stars. They aimed to find places where life thrived. They also created stones of protection.
Since then, many worlds have fallen to the Dark Ones, which spread the cold death of entropy. When this planet falls, only the guardians’ homeworld will exist.
“I should walk the lay lines to see if they can tell me something,” the priestess said.
“I will walk the stones and see if they have changed since morning,” added Keelie.
Each day, the watchers hold back the inevitable—the death of this blue marble in the vastness of space.
“We will leave this place, and then there will be one. How long until cold death is all that remains,” whispered Anam Ċara as she walked the land.
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