Silver Cross Dream

“God, The monster that feasts on the chosen has crawled out from its grave, It unleashes its wrath upon humanity, It feeds on blood, It seduces the child of the divine, leading him to his fall, I pray for its exile, That it may never return to his side, That its eyes may never behold him, That its hands may never touch him, That its mouth may never speak his name. In the name of the divine, May this person, the child of the gods, Return to the embrace of the divine, May God’s merciful hands protect his peace, And forgive his sins… Amen…” On the beach, a group of worshippers clad in white robes formed a semicircle, barefoot, their faces solemn and grave, reciting in unison. ...Their tones calm and serene. The cold sea breeze swept across the icy sands, the dark sea seemed stained with ink, boundless and endless. On a protruding rock by the sea stood a cross, where a man was hanging. His wrists and ankles were nailed to the broad cross, his white sweater stained with blood. He slowly lowered his head, his rimless glasses silently slipping to the sand below... One of the white-robed worshippers stepped forward, crushing the glasses underfoot, the sound sharp and clear, shattering it into countless fragments. The man nailed to the cross remained still, his head bowed, as if he had lost all signs of life. Amidst the synchronized chanting, the east began to show signs of dawn, the dark night quietly passing, as a warm sun slowly rose from the horizon, the calm blue sea reflecting the sunlight that cascaded down onto the sand and the broken glass, casting dazzling rainbow-like colors. The man trembled slightly, slowly raising his head. His eyes were calm and gentle, as if the nails were not driven into his hands and feet at all. Gazing at the rising sun in the east, with seagulls occasionally gliding over the tranquil sea, the man, even nailed to the cross, appeared as gentle as an angel, warmth trickling from his eyes. “East... Fang... Dawn...” His pale, dry lips parted slightly, softly uttering those three words, as warm as ever. East Fang... Upon hearing this forbidden name, the white-robed worshippers began to panic. “Exile it! Exile that demon! Let it never return to his side, Let its eyes never see him, Let its hands never touch him, Let its mouth never speak his name. ... Amen…” The chanting grew more fervent around him, and the man, still gentle as an angel despite being nailed to the cross, smiled faintly. Xiao Xiao, even if your eyes can no longer see me, even if your hands can no longer touch me, even if... your mouth can never call my name again... But this time, let me see you, let me touch you, let me come to your side. ...When that time comes, I will be a warm ray of sunlight beside you. This is the beginning of another story, not the final conclusion of the tale.