Just ahead stood a round stone pillar, about four or five meters high. At its summit was a statue Ed recognized immediately: the Golden Horn Hammer.
The statue's placement seemed intentional. Whether by the valley's layout or the trees' arrangement, beams of sunlight streamed down, shining perfectly on the statue's two rising horns, a coincidence that felt a little too perfect. The light illuminated the horn tips, mirroring the legendary image of a true golden horn.
As Ed took in the scene, a realization struck. He quickly pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. It was exactly noon.
The old man approached the stone pillar, his face filled with emotion and deep longing. He placed his hands on his temples, shaping them like horns, mimicking the Golden Horn Hammer's posture as if in prayer, a gesture that struck Ed as decidedly odd.
