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My flesh and heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and portion forever.
- Psalm 73:26
Damien clutched his rosary closer to his chest as he stepped through the remnants of what used to be Celine’s house. Unsturdy floorboards creaked beneath his feet, the stone walls cracked and threatened to fall onto the growing piles of rubble. Through the sounds of settling destruction and his laboured breathing, he heard her. He heard Celine.
“En nomine Patris et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.” He did the sign of the cross as he began his blessings.
He knew he shouldn’t have left her on her own. He knew he shouldn’t have listened to her insistent cries for him to follow his call from God, that he should move out as soon as possible to teach his preachings. He had always discouraged her and her… work. Her blasphemous rituals to a chaotic entity. What she did was dangerous, but he didn’t know it was this dangerous.
It all happened so quickly. At one moment, Damien was conducting his usual ceremonies, then before he knew it, he was being pulled aside to be informed of the unfortunate news of his only family.
The devil works with servants.
To say that the ministry discouraged his mission would be an understatement. This case was so grand, after all. Reports said the house nearly blew up and crumbled completely. Having the church’s youngest priest on the case would surely cause trouble, so they had scheduled their best to work on the house at noon. Damien went by himself at nightfall the day before. He needed to help, this wasn’t just another case. It was his sister, it was Celine.
Why didn’t God heal her?
Damien shook those thoughts out of his head. It wasn’t the Lord’s fault, it was his. He should have guided Celine to the light while he could. He should have prohibited her actions. He should of… he should of…
“I will say of the Lord: He is my refuge and my fortress…” Damien murmured. His knuckles were white as he gripped his rosary tighter, the cross digging into his skin. The very air lingering around the house felt… wrong. Damien breathed in the Devil’s breath, but exhaled the Lord’s blessings. “My God, in Him I will trust.”
Childhood memories began to mix with the Good Book as Damien blessed the remnants of the halls he and Celine used to skip through. Their childhood home, ruined by the Devil’s touch. Though a home is where the family is, and Damien wasn’t going to let the Devil take her too.
“Damien~ I can hear you…” A familiar voice echoed through the house, alluring in its tone. Damien shuddered as an unseen energy rippled through his body. Tempting him to stop, tempting him to give in. He continued to walk closer nonetheless.
“I shall not be afraid of the terror in the night-”
“Your words hurt!” Her voice shrieked as he drew closer. “You’re hurting your big sister, Damien! How dare you?!”
“N-Nor the… the evil that walketh in darkness…” He couldn’t stop his voice from trembling. He bit back the tears that threatened to fall alongside the rumble.
Why her? God, why take everything I have? Is this a test of my faith?
Soon enough, Damien stood before a door that glowed a vibrant shade of red and blue. Celine’s seance chamber. Compared to the rest of the house, the surrounding walls and door stood strong as if they weren’t holding back the wrath of the Devil.
Have I not proven myself worthy thus far?
“Because I have made the Lord my refuge…” Damien hesistanted. He could hear her laughing. As he gripped the doorknob, he could have sworn that it made his skin burn at the touch. “Because I have set my love upon Him… Therefore will He deliver me.”
The second Damien swung open the door, the air was knocked out of his lungs. His eyes instinctively shut closed as he stumbled back at the shear force of magic pushing him back. Eyes slowly blinked open and Damien tried to steady his quicken breathing to no avail. All of the seer’s ritual ingredients were spread out around the room. The mark of the Devil, a pentagram, was neatly drawn onto the ground with chalk. Celine stood in the middle of the circle, tall and proud. Her smile was too wide, predatory eyes staring down Damien like a coyote to a deer. This wasn’t his sister.
May God guide us to the light.
“Celine…” Damien stepped into the room. The golden cross on his rosary made his sister visibly flinch. “Celine… what did you do?”
“I did what I had to do.”
“I shall call upon Him, and He will answer me.” He raised his rosary against the demon with a trembling arm. Various rites clearly agitated the demon, but Celine still stood strong. She hissed a foreign tongue at her brother's cross. “You don’t belong here, demon. Release her!”
“What do you mean, Damien? I’m right here.” Celine sounded like a horrid parody of herself. Alongside her comforting tone was an underlying echo of something primitive. A gravely inhuman voice spoke alongside Celine’s.
The priest’s chest ached as he stared at the shell of his sister. Surely, her pride wasn’t still telling her that she had everything under control? Surely, the wicked smile that dawned on her face was the work of the Devil.
The Lord’s words didn’t seem to be affecting her.
“He will be with me in trouble. He will deliver me and honour me.” Damien touched the sides of his face with his free hand and noticed they were wet with tears. A broken sob made it past his lips as Celine tauntingly laughed at him.
“What’s wrong with my baby brother? Do you still need your sister to coddle you?!”
The door slammed shut behind Damien. He instinctively flinched back at the sound, only for Celine to grab him and throw him into the corner of the room with inhuman strength. Damien clutched the rosary tighter as his back hit the wall. The cross pierced his skin and a small, steady stream of blood dripped from his palm. Celine’s smile only grew wider at the display before her.
“Vade… vade post me, Satana,” Damien spoke the word of the Lord with a shaking voice.
May my blood and tears be a sign to give me strength… please, Lord, give me strength…
“Exaudi Domine Patri.”
“Your God is a false prophet! Just listen to me… listen to me…” Celine swayed like a puppet on a puppetmaster’s strings. “You’ll be powerful, just like your big sister.” Celine stared Damien down with the fires of hell within her eyes, her body glowed a vibrant shade of red. She clenched her fists and her seance materials began to levitate off the floor with the same red glow surrounding each object.
“Ce-Celine…” Damien stared at his sister’s glowing eyes, desperately looking the compassionate emotion she used to look at him with. He found nothing but anger. “Let me help you!” Damien shrieked. He closed his eyes, letting his tears and blood fall onto the floor. Celine stared at the ground where drops of his blood stained in a small pool of red.
For a brief moment, it was quiet.
The objects dropped to the ground with a synchronized thud.
For a brief moment, there wasn’t a horrid glow surrounding Celine.
Damien raised his rosary against his sister once more. Her cruel smile weakened to a puzzled expression.
For a brief moment, Damien saw a warm compassionate look within Celine’s eyes.
But it was only brief.
As quickly as Damien could blink, the anger returned. Celine smiled down at Damien before she started giggling. Soon enough, Celine was laughing hysterically at the priest, clutching her head in her hands as she doubled over in laughter.
“Oh, Damien… of course you can help me.” Were her tears shed because of her laughter? Or were they tears shed by her true self? She stepped closer to Damien, watching as he cowered into the corner in a tight ball. The priest muttered to the Lord frantically. He could beg, but would anyone answer his calls?
The Lord is supposed to answer my call.
Celine grabbed a fistful of Damien’s hair and tugged it harshly, forcing him to look at what she’s become. Damien screamed at the pain, hyperventilating in a silent plead for mercy. The Devil’s breath was suffocating.
“You’ll help me… you’ll help all of us…”
“Celine, what are you doing?!” The seer glowed once more and Damien felt his body burn from within, convulsing with the strength of the deepest pit of hell. “S-Stop-! Please, Celine you’re - It-It hurts! It hurts, it hurts, it hurts - Please stop! I - I, Please God help me-!”
Damien’s screams were never answered.
The Devil works with servants, each soul taken willingly or by force.
The ministry mourned the loss of their youngest prodigy, but they never found his body. However, the twisted seer’s body was found yards away from the house in a forest, assumedly after she took the life of her brother. Having left a trail of mutilated woodland creatures in what looked like a final tribute to the Devil. They arrived too late. There was a scheduled dismantling of the cursed house after they spewed their rites to the Lord.
Unbeknownst to the ministry, the seer breathed life into a new creation. She created a sin against God, only to throw him into the world with his new identity. Soon after, she left the world to join her chaotic deity. Her creation, her brother, wandered aimlessly as the very creature he swore to destroy. Without purpose, without dignity.
Damien felt out of place in his own body.
The Lord blessed him in the light, but the Devil cursed him to be surrounded by monochrome. His body cracked and ached continuously, his eyes fully black with the Devil’s void. Yet, he continued to search for answers through his torment.
God can still save me. I must keep faith in Him.
Even mentioning the Lord’s name added onto his perpetual pain. But he still continued to pray, he still continued to beg. His rosary was still clutched close to his chest, the beads made his skin burn with a dull reminder of his state.
“Vade post me, Satana… Exaudi Domine Patri…” The voice of the Devil echoed alongside his own. Each preaching made his throat sting as the words left his mouth.
He thought about returning to the ministry and begging his former superiors for help. Then he remembered how they treated demons like him. Demons deserved to be killed. Word would spread around quick, he’d rather die in isolation than bring more shame to his family’s name.
He prayed that Celine’s spirit found the light in the afterlife.
For now, Damien wandered without a destination. Spending weeks in what seemed to be an endless cycle of praying and pain. There was no rest for the likes of him, for where would he find peace in? His own family cursed him to an eternal limbo between worlds. Who should he be more afraid of: humans or demons? At this point, Damien was too afraid to learn the answer.
I’m sorry for my cowardice, my Lord. I’m sorry for my blasphemy.
Every so often, Damien would snap and go against God’s teachings. The sheer amount of power he was cursed with was strong enough to destroy villages. A simple priest like him couldn’t control the unsteady aura. His image would flicker between blue and red in a dangerously beautiful pattern, and his image would shake like a venomous snake warning off any life around it. There was barely time to process what was happening before he collapsed onto the ground in a fit of cries and screams. A powerful aura thrashed around him, breaking whatever, or whoever, in its wake. After the carnage, Damien would be forced to realize what he did. Time and time again.
He would leave without any witnesses. Frightened communities have officially began a hunt for his head. He didn’t blame them.
“Forgive me Father, for I am a sin…”
The demon cried tears of obsidian, kneeling before the almighty Lord. He prayed the beads on his rosary through the dull burn. The shine of the golden cross was unaffected by the harsh grey the Devil surrounded Damien in. But the light never purged him of his impurities.
“The Good Word hurts me, yet I beg for the light.”
I beg for mercy.
Quiet, but present footsteps made their way closer to Damien. He let them draw closer as he closed his eyes. Maybe an act of mercy would be to kill him. He wondered if death would hurt, though nothing could hurt more than this torture.
“There you are, Damien. I’ve been looking all over for you.” Damien heard a man speak from behind him. How did he know his name? A gentle hand was placed on his shoulder, but he still gasped and tensed under the touch. Through laboured breaths and closed eyes, he waited for the harsh pain of death. However, the man never hurt him.
“Kill me.” Damien didn’t want sympathy, he was tired. The man hummed with amusement, never removing his hand and instead massaging reassuring circles. Damien shuddered at the touch before an echoed sob rippled through him. “Please… it hurts…”
“Curious little thing.” The man spoke in a chipper tone, with an odd slur to his pronunciation. He has heard about a mysterious demon with the power of twenty men, but he didn’t expect this display of weakness. Razor sharp teeth scowled at the cross Damien was holding, claw-like hands digging into the smaller man’s shoulder. Surely that poisonous object was the reason for the other’s pain. “Why don’t I help you?”
“Please…”
Damien lays within the Devil’s grasp, begging for answers. He begged for a reality where he wasn’t depending on one of the Devil’s servants to help him. He wanted his family back, he wanted his life back.
God never saved his damned soul. He condemned him.