Matthew's POV
It was as if something invisible was burning Deborah.
I could hear the sizzling sound of searing heat.
She let out a pained moan, her entire body curling up as if flames were licking at her skin.
Though there were no visible marks on her, the pain was unmistakable, etched deeply into her contorted expression.
Sweat trickled down her forehead in small, glistening beads as her face paled.
Her teeth clenched tightly, and even the sound of her voice seemed to be trapped in her throat.
She convulsed violently in my arms, her fingers clawing at the ground, digging into the dirt as if to anchor herself against the unbearable torment.
Every shudder that wracked her frame was an agony so profound it seemed to tear her soul apart.
"Deborah!" I shouted desperately, but she couldn't answer.
Her lips remained sealed, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes.
Each breath seemed like a battle against excruciating pain.
I stumbled back through the gate, gathered her into my arms, and tried desperately to shield her from the unseen force.
"Deborah, tell me, what's happening? What's wrong?"
But she had no strength left to speak.
Every twitch, every tremor, pierced through me like a dagger to my heart.
Her fingers slipped weakly from my shoulder, and her eyes fluttered shut.
She had passed out from the pain.
"Deborah! No, wake up!" I gently shook her shoulders, but she remained unresponsive.
At that moment, I heard a soft rustling from within the vine-covered wall.
I jerked my head up and saw an elderly woman stepping out from behind the thick vines.
She wore a simple, dark dress that flowed softly around her ankles.
Her hair was a neatly arranged mass of silver, and her face bore an expression of serene composure, like a gentle, kindly grandmother.
She approached us with measured steps, leaning down to study Deborah's unconscious form intently.
"Demon," she murmured quietly, her voice devoid of malice or accusation—just a calm statement of fact.
I froze.
"Demon?" I repeated dumbly.
A demon? How could that be possible?
"No, no, she's not!" I snapped, my voice a mixture of anger and confusion. "She's a good person—she came here to save lives, to save others!"
The elderly woman shook her head slightly, raising a hand in a silent gesture for me to calm down.
"She's not in any danger here," the old woman assured me softly. "Truth be told, she is the danger."
"What are you talking about?" I demanded, my voice low and tense, my chest tightening with rage.
The woman glanced down at Deborah again, a complex emotion flitting through her eyes.
"Leave her here. Come with me."
Her voice was soft yet firm, brooking no argument.
I looked down at Deborah, then back up at the elderly woman.
My heart churned with confusion and anger, but I had no other option.
I carefully laid Deborah on the ground, arranging her body so she would be as comfortable as possible.
Her breathing was still shallow, her skin hot to the touch, but at least the violent shudders had stopped.
"I'll be back soon," I murmured quietly, gently cupping her face, feeling the icy chill of her skin beneath my fingers.
All I could do was pray she'd wake up soon.
Then I stood and followed the woman through the vines.
The moment I stepped inside Tirfothuinn, the sight that met my eyes stunned me into silence.
The difference between the outside and the inside of Tirfothuinn was like night and day.
What lay before me was beyond anything I could have imagined—a world of breathtaking beauty and vibrant life.
Tall trees swayed gently in the breeze, colorful butterflies flitted among the flowers, and bees buzzed as they darted from bloom to bloom.
Every leaf, every blade of grass seemed to pulse with a vivid, undeniable vitality, as though the entire world was alive and breathing.
The most astonishing sight of all was the rainbow arching across the sky, its brilliant hues shimmering in the sunlight like a silken ribbon, casting a luminous glow over the entire landscape.
The sheer beauty of it was overwhelming.
"How… How is this possible?" I whispered, dazed.
The elderly woman said nothing, simply continuing forward.
I trailed after her, weaving through thick groves and down a winding, cobblestone path.
The surrounding plants seemed to sway gently as we passed, as if welcoming us.
The air was filled with a subtle, floral fragrance that was soothing and invigorating all at once.
In the distance, I saw children playing on the grass, their laughter ringing out clear and bright.
It was a sight unlike any I had ever seen.
Finally, we arrived at a small, stone cottage nestled within the forest.
The old house, covered in a thick layer of moss, had vines curling up along its walls.
The windows were adorned with delicate lace curtains, and the garden in front was filled with an array of wildflowers and herbs.
The woman pushed open the wooden door, and I stepped inside.
The interior was simple and cozy, filled with the scent of dried herbs and polished wood.
Wooden furniture filled the room, a soft carpet covered the floor, and handmade embroidery hung on the walls.
The room radiated a warmth that felt timeless, as if this place had been preserved for centuries.
She gestured for me to sit in a well-worn armchair, then began preparing tea.
Her movements were graceful and practiced, pouring hot water over the tea leaves with a calm precision.
I sat awkwardly in the chair, watching her every move.
The table between us was small and round, made of polished wood. The teacups she set out were delicate, adorned with intricate patterns.
"Drink," she offered quietly.
Her voice remained soft, but I couldn't relax.
"Why did you come to Tirfothuinn?" she asked calmly, her gaze never wavering.
I took a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. "We came from the underground city of Murias. We predicted that Murias would soon be destroyed by volcanic eruptions, so we needed to find a safe haven for its people."
Her expression softened slightly. "And you think Tirfothuinn is the right place?"
"Yes." I nodded earnestly. "It's our only hope."
She fell silent for a moment, then slowly nodded.
"That's possible," she murmured.
My heart leapt in my chest. "You mean… we can bring the people of Murias here?"
"Yes," she replied with a slight smile. "But they must pass through Conscientia first. Only those who withstand the judgements of Conscientia are worthy of setting foot in Tirfothuinn."
The surge of hope I'd felt faltered. "Conscientia… judgements?"
"Not everyone can pass Conscientia's judgments," she said softly, her gaze thoughtful. "I believe you and Deborah have already faced it."
"Yes. But then… why… why couldn't Deborah enter?" I asked, my voice trembling with frustration.
"Because Tirfothuinn will not allow a demon to cross its borders," she replied gravely.
"A demon?" I nearly shot to my feet. "No, she's not—she's a witch!"
"Whether witch or werewolf, it makes no difference, for as long as she is marked as a demon, Sanctifolium will bar her from entry."
"Sanctifolium?"