The flower crown rested awkwardly on Elsa's head.
A little too small.
A little crooked.
She didn't fix it.
---
The little girl stepped back proudly.
"It looks pretty."
---
Several villagers laughed.
Not mockingly.
Warmly.
---
Elsa touched the flowers gently.
She couldn't remember the last time someone had given her a gift.
Edward used to make flower crowns every spring.
They always looked terrible.
He insisted they looked "heroic."
---
"...Father."
She smiled to herself.
"They're still terrible."
---
Rowan watched from a distance.
His eyes softened.
Then immediately hardened again.
---
"The Church..."
he muttered.
"...always comes after hope."
---
Jack heard him.
"What do you mean?"
---
Rowan remained silent for a long moment.
---
"When kingdoms fear you..."
"They send armies."
---
"When the Holy Church fears you..."
"They send faith."
---
Jack frowned.
---
"They don't kill with swords first."
---
"They kill with belief."
---
The words lingered heavily.
---
Just then—
The church bell inside the village began to ring.
Slowly.
Deeply.
---
Dong...
Dong...
Dong...
---
The villagers turned.
---
The village priest stepped out.
An elderly man with white hair and worn robes.
His walking stick shook slightly as he approached Elsa.
---
The soldiers immediately tensed.
---
The Holy Church.
---
Even Rowan instinctively placed a hand near his weapon.
---
The old priest stopped before Elsa.
He looked at her small horn.
Then at the flower crown.
Then at the villagers standing behind her.
---
Silence.
---
Finally—
He smiled.
A gentle smile.
---
"My child..."
---
Elsa lowered her eyes.
"...Father."
---
"No."
The priest chuckled.
"I am far too old for that."
---
Several villagers laughed.
Even Elsa couldn't help smiling.
---
The priest looked around the village.
Burned homes.
Broken walls.
Wounded people.
Children alive.
---
Then he looked back at Elsa.
---
"...Thank you."
---
The entire square became silent.
---
One knight whispered,
"A priest..."
---
"...thanked a half-dragon."
---
The priest slowly turned toward the soldiers.
---
"I thank anyone who protects life."
---
No one answered.
---
Because no scripture could argue against what everyone had witnessed.
---
The priest raised his hand.
---
"Would you allow an old man to pray?"
---
Elsa blinked.
---
"...For me?"
---
"For everyone."
---
She nodded.
---
The old priest knelt.
Not before Elsa.
Not before the soldiers.
---
Among them.
---
He folded his hands.
---
"May those who survived remember kindness."
---
He paused.
---
"May those who died find peace."
---
Another pause.
---
"And may those ruled by fear..."
His eyes slowly lifted toward the distant capital.
---
"...find the courage to see with their own eyes."
---
Amen.
---
No one spoke.
---
Even the soldiers lowered their heads.
---
For one beautiful moment—
There were no humans.
No dragons.
No kingdoms.
---
Only people mourning together.
---
Far away...
In the capital—
A black-cloaked rider entered the Grand Cathedral.
---
The massive doors opened.
Candles illuminated rows of white marble pillars.
Dozens of bishops stood waiting.
---
At the end of the hall—
A single woman knelt before an enormous stained-glass window.
---
Silver hair flowed down her back.
Pure white robes.
A long sword rested beside her.
---
She opened her eyes before the rider spoke.
---
"You've seen her."
---
"Yes, Your Holiness."
---
"And?"
---
The rider hesitated.
---
"...She saved the villages."
---
"...She protected children."
---
"...She refused to harm civilians."
---
Silence filled the cathedral.
---
Finally—
The woman stood.
---
"So..."
She whispered.
---
"The prophecy has begun."
---
The rider looked confused.
---
"Your Holiness?"
---
She slowly walked toward the stained-glass window.
The sunlight painted her face in crimson and gold.
---
"Long ago..."
she said softly,
"our scriptures spoke of **a child born between two worlds.**"
---
"One path would lead that child to become the **Guardian Flame**..."
---
"...the other..."
She closed her eyes.
---
"...the Calamity that ends an age."
---
The rider swallowed.
---
"So we must kill her before—"
---
"No."
---
The woman interrupted calmly.
---
"We must decide..."
She looked toward the east.
Toward the villages Elsa had saved.
---
"...which future our own actions will create."
---
The rider stood frozen.
---
Because it was the first time anyone in authority had suggested something impossible.
---
That perhaps...
The prophecy wasn't decided by Elsa alone.
---
Perhaps...
It would be decided by how the world chose to treat her.
---
Outside, the cathedral bells began to ring.
Not for victory.
Not for war.
---
For judgment.