Chapter 150
The Place Where the Evil God Was Born
The forest is crying.
Tears gather in your eyes, and in mine as well.In this village that had only ever breathed out dry, parched air, tears have finally returned.
Saliva pools once more on tongues that had long been rough and cracked from dryness, and throats that once struggled to swallow food like dry sand can finally take in something soft.
At last… at last… we can beg for forgiveness.
The village chief staggered out of the shrine, waving his twig-like, emaciated arms.
Since the end of last winter—when the ground of the forest first began to grow damp—his daily routine had been to enter the shrine the moment he awoke and pray. Morning, noon, and night, he remained shut inside, barely coming out.
The other villagers were the same.Most of them either crowded into the narrow shrine or lay…
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