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The modern age has found it has no time for things of the past. People have become more interested in what ring tone they might have, or who's getting kicked off the most recent reality show. No more stories of monsters or beasts who cannot be explained because of science. In these times, men forget the stories of the old, that is, until the past comes back to the present to remind us why we fear the dark.

A black Bentley Phantom pulls up to Canterbury Cathedral and stops just out front when a young priest runs out in the rain and opens an umbrella. They knew a man was coming, and they were told to be ready. The priest opens the door and a man gets out wearing a fine black suit.

"The archbishop is expecting you," the young man says as they walk toward the doors.

"You wouldn't be expecting me had you not been told I was coming," the man says very coldly as they enter the church. "Get me a bottle of wine," he says shaking off the slight bit of rain on his black coat.

"Excuse me," the young priest says looking at his with surprise.

"Are you deaf and dumb," the man says taking off his coat, "or totally stupid," he says tossing it at him.

"Excuse me," another voice says chiming in to cut the tension. They look up to see a much older priest with a smile on his face. "I knew you would come someday," he says almost with a sad undertone. "Father Malcom, please go into the wine cellar and bring up one of my bottles." The young priest is almost in shock when he says this, then quickly turns and goes to the cellar. "How have you been, Balaur." The man smiles a huge and unsettling smile.

"We should go to your office for this," the man says calmly. Their walk seems to take forever as the rain continues to tap the stained glass windows on the outside and the priest feels comfort as his saviour looks down on them as they round the corner leading to his office.

"I'm still wondering why you've been sent here," the old priest says walking in and sitting down. Balaur pulls out what looks like a baton used in the Olympics and hands it to him. Almost immediately he knows what it is and tears begin to well in his eyes. "It can't be," he says sadly.

"Read it," he says forcefully. The old metal has an image etched into it. An image of a dragon coiling around the cylinder. On the ends are what appear to be amber colored eyes that look like a serpent. He opens it up and an old scroll slides out still sealed by wax that looks to be hundreds of years old, then he carefully places the metal

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