The scorching sun that lit up the cosmos today felt dim as if the gate of the sky was closed for a grand feast — the righteous men of God carried the vessel of sacrifice away from its origin.
They put her in a white box resembling a casket as four churchmen took a corner of the wooden box and lifted it off the ground.
Following the people of the same virtue, they began making their way back to the Imperial Church to fulfill their so-called prophecy.
Along the way, common folks could only watch from afar. Children scattered into their houses, mothers closed their windows shut, men grieved in silence, and no one knows what lies in heaven.
Upon reaching their destination, the churchmen opened the grand gate of the Imperial Church — the sound of the heavy wooden gate echoed through the region.
Thus, the chosen one was carried to the altar for the ultimate test of faith.
Safia, who was unconscious from the pill given to her earlier, slowly stirred awake. She finds herself unable to move, her body already bound to the wooden box.
She struggled weakly, yet it was futile.
In her weakened state, she overheard a conversation between two men.
"You've done the Lord's work, Sir Christian Geraldine. Nevertheless, your sin shall be forgiven through the sacrifice you have brought. It is because of you that we were able to complete this divine mission." A man in a long, white robe said, his voice calm and soothing, like a melody.
"If what I did was truly in the name of virtue. I would do it all over again. I will do it for myself, not for your sake, bishop." The man named Geraldine stepped down from the altar in a slow step that echoed through the cathedral.
The man in the long white robe turned his gaze to Safia. He approached her slowly.
"My dear child, do not be afraid. I will cleanse you of your suffering. You will bear no pain anymore." He said soothingly as he stood over Safia.
"B-brother.. where..?" Safia managed to utter a word from her trembling lips.
"Your brother is with the Lord, and he is waiting for you to return to his embrace. Do you want to go back?" The bishop asked.
Safia nodded weakly, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
"Then we shall do as such. Do not be afraid."
The bishop turned to the edge of the altar, and he waved at the churchmen at the gate. The churchmen nodded and immediately closed the massive gate.
Churchmen scattered across the cathedral, lighting up candles on the wall and fixed their gaze at the altar as they clasped their hands together in a prayer.
A man holding a silver tray walked up the aisle towards the altar. Atop the tray was a silver dagger with an intricate design on the blade that reads: 'Deus Vult'.
As he walked, the fellow churchmen started to chant a prayer in unison. "To Earth where you came, to Earth where you return. And to Him you end."
The man presented the tray before the bishop as he knelt on the ground — keeping his head down in a bow.
However, one man felt uneasy. "Rain is about to fall." Said Geraldine to himself. Without anyone noticing, he disappeared from the cathedral away from the prying eyes of the lambs.
The grand event continued as the bishop took the dagger from the silver tray. He walked slowly towards the sacrificial lamb while raising the dagger slightly higher with each step.
"I lost soul, let me live to tell your tale."
The bishop stopped in front of Safia, the dagger raised high in his hands as a tool of finality.
Safia looked up at the knife with an empty gaze; there was nothing in her mind except a person. "Bro.. ther.." She muttered under her breath.
"Hearken, O Slave bound to Death, for the eternal bell tolls thy name. Accept the sacrifice we lay before thee — loose her from the shackles of the mortal flesh, and rejoice with the chainless servants."
And thus, the dagger embedded itself into the Tragedy's body, as blood pooled on her throat, spilling over her lips like a melting candle, filling the air with the coppery scent of life undone.
She could not speak, yet her eyes told a thousand stories, gagging silently on her departing soul.
The bishop clasped his bloodied hands, kneeling in front of the lifeless body once named.
"My brothers of virtue, savor the feast upon you. For the bread shall be her flesh, and the wine shall be her blood. Indeed the heaven has blessed her last supper."
The churchmen stood up and approached a basket of bread that was prepared earlier during the sacrifice, believing it would bring blessings upon themselves.
They drank wine and said no bloodshed for a petty coin.
Yet the truth was never silent, and surely vengeance will find its way in death.
—Penning the next chapter...