The Shield captain, Evelune, shares a reinforcing truth to seminarian Valeryctus, encouraging her to embrace the whisper. The entity shares truth, unravelling the curtains of the church and putting everything into perspective through blood.
Part Three
I hear it too, are four words Evelune said to Valeryctus after she rescued the seminarian from the remains of the scorched earth. They didn’t speak of it again for Sister Batilda awaited. There is no reason to ponder the four words because the two know that punishment from Sister Batilda and High Priest Jochen would be too severe. Their faith would be put into question. Their bodies inflicted with pain. Valeryctus is comforted in knowing she is not alone anymore. Another hears the whispering voice.
Since the arrival of the scorched earth, Valeryctus struggles to resist it. The visions flood her mind every night, ranging from flashes of her past to the hellish landscape with red dirt. Every day she wonders why she continues to deny it. She could freely give in and embrace this mysterious gift.
The Shield captain had freed Valeryctus from her trance in the unholy scorched earth. The seminarian was too focused on discovering what the whisper’s gift was and ignored her faith, surrendering entirely to this being below the earth; what a fool to do such a thing! She has no knowledge of who the whisper is. Evelune hears it, and what does she think of this voice?
The days go on, turning into several weeks with Sister Batilda and High Priest Jochen refusing to let Valeryctus go to the back of the church. They ordered the Shield to build a wooden fence around the ritual circle and keep piling more dirt, rocks, and grass seeds to remove the unholy ground. As always, everything rots. The rocks crumble, turning to dust and paving the way for the new dirt to turn grey. Then the scorched symbols appear from nowhere.
Valeryctus knows a dark secret about the unholy ground that her higherups fail to realize. That toxic earth keeps an otherworldly being below. It refuses to leave and Valeryctus is its reasoning. She is reminded by the whisper each day to return to the circle. It speaks before she enters her nightly slumber, making her pray to God for protection.
I need blood . . . embrace your gift. The whisper says.
“God, answer me.”
She must remain resilient and focus on her training with the other three seminarians, Izahl, Tyrmus, and Kaylor. They have not fallen into any strange trances or shown signs of talking to the demon. It proves that Valeryctus is weak, despite the whisper’s encouraging words.
High Priest Jochen shares his lectures every morning. The seminarians watch and study as he commands the room. The town of Nevertroll comes by each Sunday to hear his words of empowerment, love, and of course God himself.
When the townsmen of Nevertroll leave for the day, that is when High Priest Jochen invites Tyrmus to private study, as he’s been doing for weeks. Each passing day the boy’s eyes are a little darker, his skin is increasingly faint. Whatever is occurring in the priest’s private quarters has beaten Tyrmus into a whimpering dog.
As for Valeryctus, she no longer sleeps in her quarters in the basement. She is under the close eye of Sister Batilda. Each night after Valeryctus finishes her evening study and prayer, she lays down on the cot in the nun’s spare room. Sister Batilda tends to stay up during the evening to finish the duties around the chapel, letting her keep a close eye on Valeryctus.
Child . . . Why do you fear me?
Valeryctus slips into her dream, being met with visions of blood. Flashes of the scorched earth appear under a stormy night. The charred remains of the fire represent symbols that glow amber. The central black void pulsates. The sky rains red, splattering onto the soil heavily.
Child . . .
The blood rain pours faster. Lightning strikes as the black void caves in, creating a hole.
Child . . .
She shoots to life as icy water envelops her face, gasping and shivering. She rises from her bed, seeing Sister Batilda holding a bucket of empty water. The lady stares at her with the same permanent scowl of distaste.
“Your dreams are coming violent once more,” Sister Batilda says. “Pray to God for protection again, weakling.”
I thought you trusted my word? So boldly walking to me before.
Sister Batilda storms out of the room, slamming the door and leaving Valeryctus in a freeze. The owls hoot outside, and the crickets chirp under the starry sky behind the closed planks of wood, keeping the window shut. The sound is reassuring that Valeryctus is a part of this world and the whisper is not.
At least that’s what she tells herself. She wants to believe in the church, she keeps resisting these words, but she saw the being in the scorched earth. The demon is alive.
I am no demon, child.
What are you? Valeryctus thinks. No. Here she is, reasoning with the demon again. She will be disciplined by Sister Batilda, who will clearly see if she slips from God’s grace again. She’ll sense it.
I am your new god.
Valeryctus replies, only the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit can–
The whisper shrieks before Valeryctus finishes her thought. The Creator abandoned all mortals. I do not! The voice returns to a gentle tone saying, do not fear Sister Batilda. We will take care of her.
Valeryctus sits at the edge of her bed and rings the water out of her hair, shivering. She is certain to catch a cold throughout the night if she doesn’t warm up. As usual, Sister Batilda offers no aid. The seminarian must rely on praying to God . . . or asking the whisper. It’s so easy to give in because it’s the only one who answers to her.
What am I to do? Valeryctus asks, curiosity consuming her.
You are to be my eyes, ears, and tongue in this world, the whisper says.
Why me? Valeryctus asks.
The whisper says, you do not belong in this chapel. Your mind does not operate like the others. You know you are not them, and for that, I see the potential in your independence.
She replies, you wish me to not follow them and follow you? How is that any different?
The whisper chuckles, this is why I chose you. You see, child-
Valeryctus interrupts. I have not been a child for half-decade. I am a woman. And so are my three colleagues. It’s nonsense to see it in any other way.
Yes, you are a woman. Women hold power. Independence flourishes in adulthood, even in the youthful kind. Yet, my eyes have seen centuries and areas come and go. I’ve witnessed the Creator, the original name of your God. gives birth to the mortal realm in which you reside. I’ve been here from the beginning and hold the right to call all mortals children. For compared to a god, you are nothing.
So, I am useless. Whether I follow God or whatever entity you claim to be. Valeryctus pulls the sheet off the cot and wraps it around her shivering body, attempting to warm up. She rises, walks to the window frame and slides the plank of wood off the window, keeping the wooden shutters together, and gets a whiff of fresh air to try and clear her mind.
A mortal is nothing without guidance. You’re wild animals. You’re lost souls astray. Valeryctus, I don’t wish you to follow. I wish to offer you my guidance.
Guide me to what? Valeryctus asks.
Child, I am not freed from irrational emotions. I have made grave mistakes in my life. You cannot force preachers of free will to obey you; you must work with them. We all wish for independence from our personal chains. The Heavenly Kingdoms, Dega’Mostikas’s Triangle—or hell, this realm, all of them have restrictions that prevent us from bracing our true powers. They burden our beings with rules. I wish it no more. I wish every soul to be free to stand and master their own lives. I can offer this if you prove your trust in me.
And how do I prove such trust? Valeryctus asks.
You must mend me. Return to the ritual circle, douse me in blood to heal my wounds, and I will gift you a power that is beyond your wildest imagination.
Valeryctus is tempted by such an idea. She never thought of herself as someone who could rise to power. She’s always been humble, following God, despite her fiery nature. Her parents surrendered her from young age to the church, ingraining the holy words into her mind. She cannot imagine living in any other way. She could have independence. What would that mean to her?
She spots Evelune walking with the two members of the Shield, leaving the garden. Their holy church tabards drape over their torso and several pieces of armour, each gripping the handle of their sheathed sword.
Child, can’t you see that High Priest Jochen has put the Shield on guard duty since I have arrived. Don’t you wonder why he keeps the earth gated? Don’t you wonder what more I can offer?
I do. Valeryctus says.
I will show it to you once you come to me.
Evelune and the Shield leave the garden, proceeding along the side of the church. Evelune looks to the open window, spotting Valeryctus.
I hear it to. Evelune’s words run through Valeryctus’s mind.
The whisper says, I bring you an ally. Independence may be the path you pave, but you will gain followers. Some are not destined to take the first step. This is my gift to you. Now come to me.
Valeryctus waves at Evelune. The Shield stops while the two patrolling members leave her behind. She walks towards the window. Evelune stops, looking up at Valeryctus, about half a person higher at the window.
“We don’t have long,” Valeryctus says. “Sister Batilda will back soon.”
“How have you been feeling?” Evelune asks.
“Not well. High Priest Jochen and Sister Batilda are persistent in making me better. But . . . I don’t know if better is the right word.”
“I don’t believe so.” The Shield looks back to the back of the church where the gated scorched earth rests.
Valeryctus asks, “what did you mean when you said you hear it too?”
“The voice. Ever since I pulled you out of the burning circle that fateful day.”
Children . . .
Evelune and Valeryctus tense and stand straight, staring at each other. Their silence confirms that they both can hear the word.
“Do you trust it?” Evelune asks.
“Sorry?” Valeryctus asks.
“Do you trust the voice? They speak of another way. They speak of you.”
“Of me?”
“Yes. At first, I thought I was going mad. Clerics don’t have the same foresight into the word of God as you seminarians and priests. We can only master simple words of power. I know no defence to withstand it. I thought it was evil at first, deeming it the Devil. The more I listen, the more reason it offers.”
“I share the same feelings. I’ve witnessed the prideful sin of High Priest Jochen and fear of more he hides. I know what Sister Batilda is. I question if my parents surrendered me or forced me to the church. I question everything.”
“I’ve only been the hand of God, never questioning my role. I fail to even know who I am. There must be a better way.”
“The voice claims to be a god. Yet we are told there is only one God and there are plenty of false prophets serving the Devil and cannot be trusted.”
“The blanket statement is a perfect way to shroud any other form of thinking.”
Valeryctus feels her stomach twist, and her heart sinks to the knotted mess in her gut hearing Evelune speak such ill words of their faith. The concerning part is she feels the same about their ways and the people within the church. She is simply coming to terms with the reality she lives in, and it is not easy to digest.
“What are we to do, Valeryctus?” Evelune asks.
“Sorry?” Valeryctus asks.
“I have embraced the voice. This god, whatever it is, it’s words of guidance I cannot deny. I have asked it what it wants of me so I can find my own path, and it has told me to follow your lead.”
“Me?”
“Yes, we will free you from Sister Batilda’s and High Priest Jochen’s grasp. The Shield are loyal to my word. I will convince them. But, please, I must know what your first command is.”
Footsteps rise from down the hall beyond the closed door, making Valeryctus’s ear twitch. She grabs the wooden shutters, and while closing them, she says, “take me to the circle.”
Evelune nods as Valeryctus closes the wooden shutters and slides the plank in, locking them. She scurries to the bed and lies down as quietly she can to prevent the metal frame from squeaking. The door to the room unlocks, swinging open and casting an orange light in the room from the torches in the hall.
Valeryctus’s eyes are shut, pretending to sleep. She breaths steadily through her nose and out her mouth, feeling the blood run wildly in her. Footsteps move towards her bed and around the cot. Sister Batilda is watching her, judging how she sleeps.
She will be the first to go, Valeryctus thinks. The thought surprises her, for she thought it would be the whisper’s words. It is sinister and something that God would not have taught. The supposed God of the Bible would also not have allowed many things that the church has been responsible for; just look at Tyrmus.
An independent thought . . . good, my child. The whisper says.
The footsteps fade away, and the door closes with the long creek, followed by a click. The muffled steps move down the hall, leaving Valeryctus safe in darkness. She sighs with relief and relaxes her muscles, ready for sleep.
I await your arrival, and we’ll set forth the new faith. One birthed of the left-hand individual’s path, letting their soul guide them. You will be the teacher, as I am yours.
I am coming for you, Valeryctus thinks. With blood.
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