It was around 10 a.m. The mansion stood quiet, with only Bernard and a few guards outside.
Grabbing his car keys, Bernard left the house, got into his car, and drove off at high speed. After thirty minutes of driving, he arrived at the edge of a dense forest.
’I need to find out what’s going on around me... what the Simons are planning today,’ he thought, locking his car and heading into the woods.
He walked for about fifteen minutes, eventually arriving at the entrance of the Temple of Truth and the Righteous Ones.
At the gate, Bernard pulled a ring from his pocket and slid it onto his middle finger. The guards at the entrance saw the ring and immediately granted him passage.
Inside, the Temple was alive with quiet devotion. Some were meditating, others knelt before the altar, praying. Bernard stood out in his modern clothes, watching them.
A guard approached him politely. "Hello sir, are you a devotee of this Temple?"
"Yes," Bernard replied quickly. "But I need to see the highest priest. It’s urgent."
The guard’s expression shifted to regret. "The highest priest has gone into transition. He won’t return until the work in the White World is complete."
Bernard’s face fell. "There’s no way to contact him?" he asked, desperation in his voice.
The guard was quiet for a moment, then asked, "What was your password to enter the Temple?"
"Password?" Bernard echoed, confused. "I just showed the guards this ring." He held up his hand.
The moment the guard saw the ring, his eyes widened. "Follow me, sir," he said quickly.
He led Bernard deep into the Temple, to the inner chamber of the highest priest.
"Kneel before that mold pot," the guard instructed. "Take off the ring, lift it, and speak your heart. The priest will answer from the White World."
noveldrama Without another word, the guard left. Bernard approached the massive pot, kneeled, removed the ring, and raised it.
"Bernard Gilbert, young Alpha of the Blue Moon Pack, seeks your guidance and wisdom. I need clarity about all that troubles my soul," he called out.
A thick white smoke swirled from the pot, and a voice echoed through the chamber.
"Young Alpha... why do you disturb my meditation with the spirits in the White World?" the priest’s voice asked sternly.
Bernard froze for a moment, overwhelmed. Then he spoke again. "I need to know what danger threatens me, my pack, and my family."
"Before you seek answers, know this—by now, you should be dead," the voice said.
Bernard’s eyes widened. "I... I’ve fought battles, yes. But I’ve survived them all. I don’t remember one that nearly killed me."
"You forget, as many do," the voice snapped. "You never thanked the spirits that saved you from death. Was it not a magical poison that almost killed you?"
Bernard’s face changed. "Yes... that’s true. But I thought I was just lucky to survive."
"Foolish creature," the voice replied. "The night you were attacked after that meeting... didn’t you carry this ring in your breast pocket?"
"I did," Bernard answered slowly. "That’s where I always keep it."
"That ring carries a power greater than you know. It shielded you, blocked the poison from your blood. It saved you. Be grateful to the spirits that dwell in it."
Finally understanding, Bernard bowed deeply. He kissed the ring several times, murmuring words of heartfelt gratitude.
Then he turned back toward the rising smoke, ready for what more the priest would reveal...