Chapter Text
"By the sweat of your face
you shall eat bread,
till you return to the ground,
for out of it you were taken;
for you are dust,
and to dust you shall return.”
Genesis 3:19
They called it a bad omen.
Nothing good can come from the dirt of the forest, they warned.
fingers pointed, gazes unwavering.
No one listened
Not at first.
A creature born from clay, blooded from animals.
Everything but human.
With the sunset the town saw it arrive.
It was hard to look away, in the same way it's hard to look away from open wounds.
The skin pale like dry Bones, the hair brittle like straw, skeletal, pupils small and weirdly shaped. The old Man who brought it to them said death was printed inside its retines, that It was in everything It looked at.
A child of shadows.
Devil incarnate.
…
Eight years later a letter sat on top of Nicholas desk, mixed with correspondence from believers and reports of recent demon sightings in the area.
His back Is killing him.
He knows he Is growing old, the glass over His eyes gets thicker each year. On top of that, he lost all hearing from the right side during the last expedition, other people are starting to notice too, more willing to humor him these days than ten years ago.
The exorcist knows it's just a matter of time before he's retired from the field.
One way or another.
That's why the letter surprised him.
According to the information, some years ago a man appeared in front of a church in Italy, claiming that his child had been exchanged by a demon.
It was a classic case of the Capgras síndrome, or so they thought at first. Upon close inspection, signs of abuse were found in the infant. It was decided that the Father was unable to raise it, so they offered to keep the child.
The Man left the town short after.
Currently it has been impossible to find any information about him or his wereabounds for further interrogation.
The clergy who decided to keep custody of the child didn’t find anything unusual in it, but claims that it has brought them nothing but disgrace.
Seven deaths, all unexplained.
The child it's not killing them directly, at least they don't think so, but all of the involucrated had been in contact with It exactly seven days prior to their demise.
Any sort of exorcism has been unsuccessful so far, there isn’t any demonic energy to expel.
That's why they called him.
Out of all the current clergy, no one has successfully exorcized more possessions in humans than him.
He just came back from Romania today.
He gets the feeling this will be a tough case.
…
He tried.
They all did.
Nothing can kill that demon.
…
In the end they did the only thing they could think would work.
They sealed It.
With the help of the archangel Gabriel the exorcism was performed. During twelve days and twelve nights the barriers were put in place, trapping It inside.
Chained in the basement.
The Osarium.
Where the dead are made to rest.
It was fitting in a way, Nicholas thought. letting the child find its final place of rest between others, allowing time to do its duty.
However, that never happened.
…
During the day, screams could be heard. No matter how far they traveled inside the property, they could feel its breath picking their necks. He reassured them time and time again: This is nothing but a test of faith, the monster under their feet trying to make their resolution falter, remember.
The lord Is watching.
The reports keep arriving.
Shadows in the mirrors, steps in the hallways, plates broken, doors clawed.
A voice calling them by name, luring them towards the church.
Under the light of day Nicholas himself experimented the effects of the boy’s curse only once, after cleaning the church’s altar. As he made his way towards the door, walking between the pews, he felt what he could only describe as a hand grabbing his own. It was small, child sized, giving him some sort of deja vu.
The feeling left almost immediately after it came, but the Abbot couldn't take another step before It grabbed the cross around his neck and yanked him down.
Down.
Towards the grave.
His grave.
The impact opened part of his cranium, worrying everybody. but in the end nothing more came from It, besides a tick scar over his right eyebrow.
As the younger clergy escorted him to the infirmary, he got a glimpse of the stain of his blood in the stone.
An Agreement.
…
The worst came at night.
All of them were plagued by terrible dreams. No matter how much they prayed, how much they crossed themselves, how much salt and holy water they wasted.
the dreams were unavoidable.
The demon haunted them to the point of hysteria.
As time passed, something even weirder took place inside the house. Talking to the other clergy over the dinner table, he observed all of them manifest some sort of… craving. There's no other word to describe it. An uncontrollable need that ripped them off from bed and forced them wander, desperate, in search of something they said but without knowing what.
It keep going.
Months passed.
The stress of the situation unfortunately made them turn against each other. It was a common occurrence to hear arguments, only for the clergy to leave the property and come back apologizing, not understanding the source of their warth. Despite that, the main concerns came for those who turned against themselves; ripping hair, scratching, bleeding, biting, cutting, burning..
Ripping out..
Nicholas seemed to be the only one somehow unaffected by the craving. That led him towards a difficult decision.
He made them go away.
…
He made a oath in front of the cross.
As long as there's life in his soul, blood on his veins, bones in his body, that monster won’t escape this prison.
…
Left alone Nicholas once more endured the curse of the demon.
Shadows.
Trembling with need, he drank, but nothing could calm his thirst.
Footsteps.
With the last of his strength he ate, but nothing calmed his hunger.
Nightmares.
No matter what, he never found peace.
Nightmares.
Screams.
…
One day, deliriously, he came to the town. and brought on a single lamb, handling out the money with trembling hands.
…
Under the light of the candles the blood of the animal stained the stones crimson.
the liquid sinking through the cracks
drinking it down
down
to the grave
towards the tomb of the dead.
The house was silent.