4

England sleeps, England dreams.

In one of the few areas of unspoiled landscape within the shadow of the capital, Church breathes deeply, enjoying the soothing night air and the aromas of grass and tree. Here there is an abiding sense of peace that is difficult to find in the cluttered, busy nation. It comes not from the confluence of natural elements, but from something intangible deep within the land itself, a force that is both there and not there, physical and spiritual, earthly and otherworldly. It refreshes him and renews his purpose, but that is not the reason he is there.

Overhead, the Fabulous Beast swoops on the night winds. While Church stands on the rolling parkland looking up, he is also in the Beast’s head looking down at himself. Its thoughts, if it has such things, are unknowable. Church is not even sure it can be characterised as alive, in any sense he understands. It is an idea, a manifestation of the power in the land, a terrible force of nature, a symbol and a Beast all at the same time. It is also the last one.

It must be protected in the same way that the Earth must be protected, for once the symbol is gone, the thing it symbolises withers and dies, too. It is the last one, and the last hope for a better world.

The ground shudders and a section of turf tears itself upwards to reveal a gaping hole that disappears into the earth. The Fabulous Beast circles one final time and then plunges into the dark tunnel. The turf closes behind it.

The Enemy won’t find it there. It can rest until it is needed again.

Satisfied, Church turns away and prepares for the struggle to come.

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