Chapter
1 – Bitter Path of Redemption
“It’s useless to continue. Look at
what you’ve done,” a voice that uses my own whispers in my head.
Around me, I see many people
suffering as their demons manifest themselves from their bodies in grotesque
and painful ways. One man has his eyes popping out of his skull looking around
while uncontrollably frothing at the mouth and more eyes and mouths form in his
body to do the same so they can stare with lust at everyone. Dozens of
spider-like pincers stab out of a woman’s body and head and cut at her skin. A
man is leaking and secreting fluids and waste from his body while he constantly
eats and drinks. A mother and father are hit in the back of the head by another
version of themselves that is coming out of their backs, a torture shared by
their children.
“There’s no coming back from this.
Remember what He took from you.”
My clothes change into that of a
simple farmer with a long dress and shawl. I turn my head and see my love,
Dominic, and two children, a boy and a girl, both of whom have our likeness.
Part of me wants to feel happy and give in to the dream in front of me, but
this happiness is an empty one and won’t make anything better. Taking out my
blessed sword, I say my prayers of humility while cutting at the demon that has
grown out of my head. With it off, my eyes open and see that I’m back at my
camp back in reality.
I look into the nearby lake I’ve
camped near and at my face. My face bears the corruption of my sins again: my
right eye is black and light gold while the other is white and light gold, my
hair is white, black, and red, and half of my teeth are normal while the other
half are animalistic and sharp. If I cut this off like I did with the demon, I
would. Actually, I’d rather just cut off my head and be done with this journey
of mine, but I can’t. Not only because the curse I put on the world prevents
people from dying, but also because it wouldn’t be the right thing to do.
The right thing to do has been a
curse on me for the hundreds of years I’ve been living. It forces me to get up
every time I want to give up, hasn’t given me any lasting happiness, and
doesn’t give me the life I want. I tried bending the world to my will to get
what I wanted three times and every time God humbled me. Now, I’m finally
starting to do the penance that I’m supposed to no matter how much I don’t want
to. Even though I may be damned for all eternity, suffer in Purgatory, or live
however many hundreds of years until the end of time, I continue my journey and
try to do the right thing.
I have chosen to walk this road
alone with only a blessed shield and sword to defend myself. Since armor
doesn’t matter, I wear a simple short black battle dress, a blessed grey and
red choker to keep my sins under control, and long black thigh-high boots. In
addition, I carry around some food and a flask of water, not because I’ll die
of starvation, but because being on the edge of starvation is a good penance to
use against demons. Speaking of which, I have to pray them away because of all
my depressive thinking. The demons used to give me power and work with me as I
cursed the world, but after I repented, they’re working against me and still
cursing the world although I’m no longer using my dark magic on it.
At this rate, they’ve probably
found someone else to do their dirty work or have enough power to enact their
will because of the despair and faithlessness that my curse has caused. I’m
always someone else’s tool, even when I think I’m in total control of my life.
There’s always something or someone that ruins the plans that I have. This is
why I’ve given over total control of my life to God, again. What better choice
do I have? At this point, I don’t care if I get the life that I’ve always
wanted because down on earth, I wasn’t made to live a happy, fulfilling life.
I’m only down here to toil and suffer for God’s purposes.
Once my prayers finish and I eat
and drink a bit, I pick myself up once more and continue my wandering. Because
my curse is still plaguing humanity and no amount of prayers and penance is
doing much to stop it, the Church is searching for a permanent solution. Some
have dedicated themselves to being isolated and do nothing but pray and do
penance until God tells or shows us what to do while others search the world
for one. I am one of those who are searching the world for an answer but am
doing so by myself because I don’t trust myself around anyone, especially
around the descendent of Dominic who is the Pope. I don’t deserve any kind of
friendship with anyone anyway.
Once all of this is done and I’m
still somehow alive, I plan to isolate myself, somewhere in the world, never to
see anyone again besides the odd wanderer here and there. I’m tired of dealing
with the world, trying to fix the endless suffering in it, and failing to make
a difference, and sometimes like now, making things worse. No! I can’t keep
feeling bad about myself. It keeps making my demons manifest on my body. Come
on, Priscilla. Keep your mind on what you’re supposed to do for once.
Today, in my wandering, I come
across a village of suffering people. The Church’s penitents who wander the
world are already here helping some of the people, and since God has led me
here today, I have decided to help as well. Those who I help thank me, some try
to give me gifts. I don’t accept anything and just walk away without saying a
word as I help one person after another. This village is a place I would’ve
wanted to retire in and its people live simple, humble lives, something I
wanted for myself.
“He gave it to them rather than to
you,” a demon whispers in my head with my voice.
“They don’t deserve it, but you
do.”
“Hate Him. Curse Him. We can give
you the life you deserve.”
To counter their whispers, I
silently ask God to bless these people. It’s been my way of holding back my
jealousy when seeing happy families and people with lives that I would want to
live. Thankfully, my prayers work as they always do until a little girl comes
up to me with a rose as thanks for helping her family. The look of her reminds
me of a daughter I see in my dreams. Her gentle smile makes me want to cry and
have her as my own.
“She can be yours,” a demon says in
my voice.
“Take her away. You can protect her
better than her parents can.”
“Her parents don’t deserve such a
sweet daughter. Look over at them,” the demon says as my head forcefully looks
at the girl’s parents. “Their demons are still on their bodies despite the
prayers you did for them. They’re more of a danger to her than you.”
I give the girl her rose back,
thank her, and then walk as fast as I can away. Thankfully, she doesn’t come
after me and seems to think I was acting weird. Speaking about weirdness,
I don’t see why God would lead me here if the situation of helping people with
their demons is mostly under control. Sure enough, my wondering is answered as
a charging group of possessed men and women charge at the village and start
attacking everyone. I’m not sure if these people are merely puppets being used
by their demons or cultists being aided by their demons, but the distinction,
if any, doesn’t matter as I draw my sword, take my shield from my back, and
enter the fight.
Unlike most fights where people
die, this one is fought to either keep or break one’s faith since no one is
capable of dying. The demons use the pain inflicted on their hosts and the
people they attack to make people fall to their sins and new ones while the
faithful use blessed weapons and magic to exorcise and use the pain they take
as penance for themselves, the world, and those in Purgatory. This is all a
battle of outlasting the other side and whether or not the faithful can outlast
the pain done to them or if the demons can make them fall. I hardly see a
purpose to any of the fighting as it’s all a matter of God’s will and how long
He wants the battle to go on. Some penitent soldiers simply pray and take the
pain done to them as penance so that God can end the battle quicker, which has
worked in some instances that I’ve seen.
Even if everyone here falls to
their sins, they still have the chance of repenting and starting over again. It’s
not like they’re going to die and be damned for losing faith anytime soon anyway.
The battle drags on for minutes more than I’d like and my hopes for it to end
soon are answered as a crimson fog overtakes the village. The possessed who
attacked the village are bludgeoned and taken into the fog by unknown men in
masks and crimson and black armor. The crimson fog and masked men are from Onocrotalus,
a mysterious kingdom where each person is born with stigmata.
I’ve never had much personal
contact with the people from there and have only seen them seldom with the old
allies I had such as Evander, who was the oldest man alive and king of the
elves. The men of Onocrotalus have never really involved themselves with worldly
affairs and show up here and there where God wills, or so they claimed. One of
the men in the mist steps out and approaches me. His penitential mask is that
of a smiling devil with broken horns whose skin is sagging and colored dark red
and green. He wears the usual black and red armor of a man from his kingdom and
wields a mace with spikes all over it.
“Rejoice, Priscilla. God has given
you a more personal way of ending the curse you put on humanity,” the man says.
I’m probably not going to rejoice
at this news.
“What do I have to do?” I ask.
“Embrace the part of the cross that
God has for you. You are going to do this by piercing your skin with the wood
of the true cross that is found in Onocrotalus.”
“Am I coming with you then?”
“Not yet. You must further purify
your soul if you want to enter Onocrotalus. Continue to follow God’s will and
you’ll soon reach it.”
As the man and crimson mist
disappear, I tell the man to wait to no avail. Of course, God would give me a solution
to my problems and refuse to give it to me unless I do more. When will what I do
and sacrifice ever be enough to gain even a sliver of His favor?
“You can never do enough,” a demon
says in my voice.
“He’s teasing you. Torturing you,
as always. This solution He offers you is false.”
“There is no way to break the
curse.”
I hardly have to pray for the
demons to go away, which I think is strange at first until I see who is
approaching the village. A small army led by Pope Jude the Third arrives on
horseback to the village and surveys the area. Jude gets off his horse and walks
to me. Oh, great. As if this couldn’t get any more annoying.
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