The Strange Growth on Credo Island
Valdemar had been sitting alone in the meditation hall since the early dawn hours when he suddenly lifted his head at the sound of someone urgently knocking on the door. Who could be calling at this hour? It was deeply unpleasant to be interrupted in the midst of such secretive work. He opened the door with a face full of irritation and there stood the assistant priest staring blankly in front of him.
“What is it?”
“Th-th-that… you should probably come outside.”
The assistant priest barely managed to answer. Seeing his flustered expression, Valdemar decided it was no trivial matter and simply had him stand aside. He returned to the room, gathered the scribbled spells and magic tomes from the center of the vast meditation hall, hurriedly cleared them away in case anyone might see them, swept every item into a wooden chest, and firmly locked it.
“Let’s go.”
As he crossed the corridor, workers and assistant priests hurried past in a flurry of activity that felt somehow different from usual—edgy, excited. The sharp gaze of Valdemar narrowed. Even the laborers carrying overflowing harvest carts on their shoulders were grinning from ear to ear.
He had just passed the cloister of the temple courtyard when his leather shoes suddenly halted on the steps leading to the enormous entrance. He stood rooted as though something were pinning him down, a groan escaping his lips.
“What… is this…?”
“It happened like this all night.”
The assistant priest glanced sideways at him and quickly added, “The entire island has changed.”
“What?”
“Yes.”
Only now did Valdemar notice that the assistant priest was not frightened but simply awestruck by the astonishing transformation of Credo Island. He pointed at the newly sprouted trees, the various plants, and the perfectly ripe fruits, chattering excitedly all the while.
“Priest-nim, isn’t this simply wonderful? What kind of power could do such a thing?”
“I wonder,” Valdemar answered curtly, his face twisted in irritation as he rubbed his palms against the sleeves of his robes. Why? He had already cast a complete barrier over the entire island on the day the training competition began. Yet some powerful force—something he had no knowledge of—had altered it so drastically in his absence. This could only mean… that the cause was a ‘Divine Power’ so overwhelming he could not possibly comprehend it.
Valdemar forced himself to stay calm as he drew closer to the flower garden. The intense floral scent made his head spin. It seemed as though Credo Island itself had sprouted a will, for emerald waves rippled in every direction he turned his gaze.
Was the island responding to its new master? Had that been the cause of this?
As Valdemar scanned his surroundings, his eyes dropped to the ground at his feet. He stared at the crushed petals in utter disbelief. What lay beneath his feet was a ‘Moonflower.’
He crouched, picking up the stem. His eyes widened as he examined the small petals. He had never cared for flowers or plants before, but he knew this one all too well. Because…
“Rom, don’t you ever get tired of tending to flowers all day?”
“Not at all. Taking care of this little one makes me happy. It helps heal my heart too.”
…Rom.
Valdemar’s breathing grew ragged. The flower Rom had looked after so carefully was this very one. It glowed yellow by day and changed to other colors by night—a mysterious bloom. And especially, it was said to display its full splendor to lovers who had met their fated partner.
“Look, when you find your fated partner, it blooms in so many colors.”
“The petals in your hand are glowing so beautifully. Has the priest found his fated partner?”
“Oh, that’s not possible, Valdemar. It’s just…”
Rom gave a small smile and gazed at the petals, then casually tossed the stem away. As he turned to leave, he brushed past Valdemar’s shoulder and laughed softly.
“The Moonflower merely responded to my Divine Power. It’s nothing special.”
…Arrogant.
Valdemar could not stand the words. From that day on, whenever he saw a Moonflower, he would crush the delicate petals beneath his foot.
But now…
A cold sweat broke out on Valdemar’s forehead as he stared at the Moonflower. The petals had bloomed in every color imaginable, just like the day it was in Rom’s hands. Red, purple, blue, yellow…
Valdemar’s face paled as he recalled the dead Rom. Could the god be leaving him some kind of warning? By killing someone who knew the prophecy that “the island’s new master has appeared”? But why now?
His thoughts spun into chaos. He grabbed the assistant priest and declared he would conduct a ceremony to investigate this strange phenomenon, then told him he would go alone to the temple on the peak of the rock mountain. The assistant priest looked puzzled.
“Alone? Without bringing Priest Seneca?”
“The trainees will be arriving soon. No need to bother.”
Valdemar cut him off sharply and left the area behind, abandoning the bewildered assistant priest, who blinked in confusion.
“Why…?”
Valdemar knew how pressed for time he was, but a ceremony normally required at least two priests. Why was he going alone…?
***
Elio, perched on Zafiri’s shoulders, stretched out his hands and snapped a bright red apple in two. Petra, who received it first, bit into the crisp fruit with a cheerful grin.
“What in the world is going on?”
“Yeah, I wonder.”
“I’ll have a peach over there! Zafiri, you’ll help, right?”
Zafiri happily agreed to Amalfi’s request. He set Elio down and effortlessly climbed the tree once more. Exclamations of amazement burst out from all around. One after another, they remarked on the bizarre events that had unfolded overnight, and the atmosphere grew lively and chaotic.
Arkin stood a little apart from the group, gazing up at the branches of the walnut trees that had grown densely overnight. The heavy boughs drooped heavily under the lush leaves.
“Arkin.”
At the sound of footsteps, he turned and found Nefetia standing there. She smiled brightly, snatched his hand, and pressed a perfectly ripe apple into his palm.
“Eat this.”
Before he could thank her, she turned and walked away. Arkin looked between the apple in his hand and the retreating Nefetia, then gave a small smile. Even the sway of her hips as she walked away told him she was in an exceptionally good mood.
That idiot.
Last night at dawn he had warned her that she must be careful once the day broke, and yet here she was acting far too openly. Anyone watching would suspect something was amiss.
Arkin forced his ever-present smile into place and discreetly observed the reactions around him. However, no one seemed to be paying him any attention—contrary to his worries.
…Fine by me.
He glanced toward Nefetia. She held an apple in her hand too. When their eyes met, she smiled and took a bite. Arkin watched her chew her lips with the same intensity, then bit into his own apple. Sweet and refreshing.
Though they had been standing far apart, Arkin and Nefetia kept stealing glances at each other as they slowly chewed their apples. Arkin ran his tongue over his lips still stained with juice and found himself staring again at the glistening lips and jaw of Nefetia. If only he could secretly claim that mouth and swallow it…
“Are we all here?”
Seneca clapped his hands at the front. Before moving on to the main subject, he bowed his head deeply and sincerely apologized for last night’s minor disturbance. Arkin watched Seneca closely, but could sense nothing suspicious. Even the trainee who usually complained about everything now looked genuinely sorry.
“What exactly happened, Seneca?”
“The kitchen maid made a mistake in measuring the potion.”
“If anything had happened, what would you have done?”
“Is your mind present or not?”
Jeers and criticisms rained down on the bent-over priest.
Arkin’s gaze shifted from Seneca to the group of trainees. It was simply habit, nothing more, yet Draconis’s eyes locked onto his. Beside him, the Thunder Prince Kaichen was openly hurling curses at Seneca, but Draconis’s gaze carried something different—a cold, murderous stare that even sent a chill down Arkin’s spine.
Was there even a need for that? The moment he noticed Draconis’s eyes, Arkin remembered the incident from the test. Draconis had climbed onto a laborer’s waist and swung his fist. The look in his eyes had been the same then—ferocious, as though he truly meant to kill his opponent. What was he so angry about?
Uneasy, Arkin watched Draconis again.
“Today we will talk about each of your ‘governance’ abilities. After lunch we will practice archery.”
Seneca regained his calm expression and surveyed the trainees. “This will give you the chance to see what kind of thoughts each of you hold and what kind of ruler you will one day become.”
After finishing his introduction, Seneca passed the first turn to Amalfi of Floria, wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, and sat beneath the spreading shade of a tree. With his chin resting on his hand, he watched the princess step forward shyly and sank into deep thought.
“How did you manage all that? Are you all in your right minds?”
Last night he had gathered Seneca, Titus, and Tilly and shouted at the top of his lungs, blaming them for the incident. The assistant priests bowed their heads in silence before Valdemar, but when they left the meditation hall, Seneca’s face was stone-cold.
If anyone suspicious now, it was Valdemar. He was the one who had ordered more herbs than the standard amount to be gathered. He was also the one who had instructed the seating line to be rearranged that very day.
There were other suspicious details too. The High Priest had roared at the priests, then began probing the trainees’ lives with relentless intensity—down to the exact time each one woke and slept.
“I don’t know… I really don’t know…” As he repeated those words, Seneca’s head grew dizzy. Why was Valdemar asking such questions? It was too much…
“It’s wrong!”
While his mind was still wandering, Amalfi’s announcement had ended. After clapping politely for the princess as she stepped back with a hand over her chest, Seneca looked around for the next speaker. He carefully scanned the nine candidates, then called out the tall blond-haired prince.
“Arkin Seilir. Come forward.”