After wandering, you arrived at the ruins of a village deep within a dark forest. The dreams people saw and the footprints they left have now weathered away, becoming the sands of a distant past.

A faint trail entices you, and your feet are led aimlessly along. You arrive at a small, dilapidated chapel. The door, having long forgotten its purpose, creaks loudly, hurrying to announce a visitor to the surroundings. Upon the altar, the remnants of miracles have piled up like dust.

There, "it" lay sleeping.

Clutching a small silver rosary to its chest with folded hands. Then, as if finished with its prayer, it slowly sat up.

The moment "it" recognized your soul there, it shook off its drowsiness and hugged you tightly, as if you were the most precious thing in the world.