That morning, Aivilo woke up with a heavy head. His eyes were still drowsy when he noticed something—his TV was on, displaying static noise.
He didn't remember turning it on.
With sluggish movements, he grabbed the remote and switched off the screen. The room fell silent again, the only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall.
Suddenly, his phone vibrated on the table. Reluctantly, Aivilo reached for it and saw the name on the screen—Juven.
He answered the call.
"Aivilo… I don't know how to say this," Juven's voice was heavy, laced with emotion. "But… your ex-girlfriend is dead."
Aivilo's heart stopped for a moment.
"What?" his voice barely came out.
"She was found this morning. The cause… isn't clear yet," Juven continued. "Her funeral is this afternoon."
Aivilo didn't respond immediately. His mind spun rapidly, recalling the ritual he had witnessed last night.
Her photo. The needle piercing through her head.
Damn it.
Without wasting time, Aivilo got ready. All black clothing, a slightly wrinkled suit. He didn't even bother to properly fix his hair before rushing out of his apartment.
On the way to the cemetery, his chest felt heavy. Was this really just a coincidence? Or part of something much bigger?
Upon arriving, he saw the funeral was already crowded with people dressed in black. Soft sobs echoed in different corners, especially from the deceased's family.
Aivilo stood near the back, silently observing from a distance. His eyes searched for one particular figure—her stepfather.
And sure enough, he was there.
But what sent a chill down Aivilo's spine was the man's expression. No sadness. No tears. Just a blank face… or maybe, hidden satisfaction.
Aivilo clenched his fists.
Last night, that man had driven a needle into his own daughter's photo during the ritual. And today, he stood here, as if nothing had happened.
Something cold crept down Aivilo's spine.
Leahkim and Leirbag were right. This wasn't a coincidence. This was a sacrifice.
Aivilo took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. He had to find out more.
But the real question was—where should he start?
As the funeral ceremony continued, Aivilo suddenly heard whispers—soft at first, but growing louder, speaking in an ancient, eerie Latin tongue:
"In nomine tenebris… sacrificium accipitur… ad dominum nostrum..."
Aivilo's heart pounded as the words clawed into his mind. He clutched his head, pressing his hands against his ears, but the voices wouldn't stop.
Then, he lifted his gaze—his ex-girlfriend's stepfather stood there, smiling.
No. Not just smiling. Grinning.
His lips stretched impossibly wide, resembling a twisted, nightmarish version of the Joker. His eyes gleamed with something inhuman, something unnatural.
Aivilo felt his chest tighten.
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it all out, but then—he screamed.
A loud, desperate cry erupted from his throat, shaking the air around him.
Then—silence.
When Aivilo opened his eyes, his breath hitched.
Everyone at the funeral had stopped moving.
People were frozen in place like statues, their faces locked in whatever expressions they had before the scream. Some were mid-cry, others had their heads bowed. No one was breathing.
The whispers were gone.
But so was his ex's stepfather.
Aivilo frantically scanned the area, his instincts screaming at him. Where did he go?!
Then—BANG!
A heavy noise came from right behind him.
Aivilo spun around, fists clenched, ready to fight—
And what he saw made his blood run cold.
A tall figure stood before him. A radiant being with golden wings, a white robe flowing as if untouched by the wind.
An angel.
The figure stepped forward, its face serene, glowing with an otherworldly light. Then, it reached out a hand toward Aivilo.
Aivilo hesitated. Could this be…?
Slowly, he lifted his hand, about to touch the angel's palm—
But in the blink of an eye—
The angel's form shifted.
Its body warped, twisting into something else.
The serene face melted into a familiar one—his ex's stepfather.
Then, before Aivilo could react, the figure morphed again—into his ex-girlfriend. Her eyes lifeless, her lips curled into a sad smile.
And finally—it became him.
Aivilo took a step back, his breath shaky. His own reflection stood before him, staring at him with hollow eyes.
Then, it spoke.
A voice smooth yet venomous, echoing in the still air.
"Why are you afraid, Aivilo?"
Aivilo's fists clenched. "Who are you?" he demanded.
The figure chuckled darkly, its lips curling into a devilish smirk.
Then, in a voice dripping with amusement, it whispered—
"I am… Abraxas."
Aivilo stared at the figure in front of him—himself, or something that was trying to mimic him. The face was the same, but something felt off… too perfect, too hollow.
His voice came out carefully. "Are you evil?"
The figure—Abraxas—smirked.
"Evil?" He repeated the word as if savoring it. "That is a human concept. Good and evil. Light and darkness. Is God good? Is the Devil evil? Or perhaps… they are just two sides of the same coin?"
Aivilo felt his skin crawl. There was something unsettling in the way this being spoke, like a sound that didn't quite belong to this world.
"I am balance," Abraxas continued, slowly circling Aivilo. "I am not merely darkness, as the angels would have you believe. Nor am I purely light. I am everything in between. I am the one who gave humanity free will—to choose whether they submit to 'good' or 'evil'."
Aivilo remained silent, his mind racing.
Abraxas smiled wider, almost as if he was enjoying this moment.
"Now, Aivilo…" his voice deepened, resonating with something deep inside Aivilo's consciousness. "The question is not whether I am evil…"
He stopped right in front of Aivilo, locking eyes with him.
"The question is… who are you really?"
Aivilo stared at Abraxas with sharp eyes. "What do you mean?"
Abraxas chuckled, his voice echoing like a thousand whispers. "Humans are always busy judging good and evil… but they rarely ask themselves who they truly are."
Aivilo clenched his fists. "I know who I am."
"Do you?" Abraxas stepped closer, locking eyes with him. "A man who does not believe in God, yet holds a bottle of holy oil? A man who hates demons, yet stands in the midst of darkness? A man who wants to help, yet is always consumed by anger and doubt?"
Aivilo fell silent.
"You have been marked, Aivilo," Abraxas continued. "But will you become a warrior of light… or a tool of darkness?"
Aivilo clutched his chest, feeling a strange tightness, as if something inside him was trying to break free.
"So, Aivilo…" Abraxas whispered right next to his ear. "Who are you… really?"
Aivilo took a deep breath, his mind racing. "I am… myself."
Abraxas smirked. "A vague answer."
"I don't need to prove anything to you," Aivilo snapped. "I choose my own path."
Abraxas tilted his head, amused. "And yet, your path has already been set in motion. You cannot escape it, Aivilo."
Aivilo's grip tightened. "Then I'll destroy that path and make my own."
Abraxas chuckled darkly. "We shall see."
Before Aivilo could respond, the air around them distorted. A powerful force surged through his body, making him stumble.
Abraxas took a step back, his expression unreadable. "Your choice will come soon, Aivilo. When the time arrives… will you stand against fate? Or will you embrace what you were always meant to be?"
A blinding light engulfed everything—
And in the next moment, Aivilo found himself back at the funeral.
Everything was as it was before. People were mourning. His hands were trembling. But something was different.
He could still feel Abraxas's presence.
As Aivilo stood at the cemetery, he heard footsteps approaching.
"Aivilo!"
He turned and saw Juven, his friend, walking toward him with a worried expression.
"What just happened? You looked… strange."
Aivilo shook his head, still trying to compose himself. "It's nothing. I just… feel uneasy."
Juven frowned. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah," Aivilo replied briefly, then shifted his gaze to his ex-girlfriend's grave. "None of this makes sense."
Juven patted his shoulder. "Death often doesn't make sense, my friend. I'm still struggling to believe it myself."
Aivilo remained silent. Deep down, he knew there was more to this than just an ordinary death.
After a moment, he bid farewell to Juven and walked toward his car. As he drove home, his mind kept replaying his encounter with Abraxas.
"Your choice will come soon, Aivilo…"
The words echoed in his mind like an unrelenting whisper.
Suddenly, his phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen—it was from the hospital.
Aivilo quickly answered. "Hello?"
A nurse's voice came from the other end. "Mr. Aivilo, please come to the hospital immediately. Your brother, Father Benedictus, is in critical condition."
Aivilo's blood ran cold.
"What?! What happened?!"
"We're not sure, but his condition suddenly worsened. Please come as soon as possible."
Without hesitation, Aivilo turned the steering wheel sharply, changing his course toward the hospital as fast as he could.
In his heart, he knew something terrible was happening.
As Aivilo rushed into the hospital, his heart pounded against his chest. The dim hallway lights flickered slightly, casting eerie shadows along the walls.
Near the reception desk, he spotted a doctor standing in the middle of the corridor, seemingly waiting for him.
But something was wrong.
The doctor's forehead bore a crimson mark—an inverted cross drawn in blood. The lines were rough, as if hastily carved or smeared by an unseen hand. His eyes were dull, almost lifeless, and his lips curled into a knowing, twisted smile.
Aivilo's steps faltered for a brief moment. Was this real? Or another illusion?
But he ignored it.
He had no time to deal with strange visions or ominous signs. His priority was Benedictus.
Pushing forward, he hurried past the doctor without sparing him another glance, his mind set on reaching his brother's room.
When he arrived, the door was slightly ajar.
Aivilo stepped inside—and his breath caught in his throat.
Benedictus lay on the hospital bed, his skin pale, his breathing shallow. Sweat beaded his forehead, and his usually strong presence now seemed frail, vulnerable.
"Benedictus…" Aivilo muttered, stepping closer.
His brother's fingers twitched, as if trying to reach for something unseen. His lips moved, forming silent words—until suddenly, his eyes fluttered open.
But instead of relief, Aivilo felt an overwhelming sense of dread.
Benedictus's gaze wasn't focused on him.
He was staring past Aivilo's shoulder.
As if something—or someone—stood right behind him.
Aivilo quickly turned around.
The doctor from earlier was standing there.
His face remained expressionless, his gaze empty—like a man without a soul. But this time, he didn't say anything or do anything strange. He simply carried some medical tools, placed them on the table, and silently walked out.
Aivilo watched him leave with a sense of unease but chose not to dwell on it. What mattered now was Benedictus.
He turned back to his brother, who gave him a faint smile despite looking exhausted.
"Aivilo..." Benedictus spoke weakly. "It turns out I have myocardial infarction."
Aivilo frowned. "A heart disease?"
Benedictus nodded slowly. "Acute heart attack. The doctors said… I might not have much time left."
Thump.
Aivilo felt his chest tighten. His eyes locked onto his brother's face, searching for any sign that this was some kind of joke or misunderstanding.
"How could this happen, Brother?" His voice trembled slightly. "You're still too young!"
Benedictus gave a bitter smile. "Maybe it's not yet my time to die… but they want me to die sooner."
Aivilo froze. They?
Suddenly, the air in the room felt colder. Something about Benedictus' words made his skin crawl. Who was he talking about?
Benedictus stared at the ceiling with an empty gaze. "Aivilo… there's something you need to know."
Benedictus stared at the ceiling with an empty gaze. "Aivilo… there's something you need to know."
His voice was weaker now, but the seriousness in his tone sent a shiver down Aivilo's spine.
"You have to take my place."
Aivilo's eyes widened. "What?"
Benedictus turned to him, his gaze firm despite his weak state. "You must perform an exorcism in my place. I know you have the ability."
Aivilo shook his head instantly. "That's impossible! Not just anyone can do that!"
Benedictus let out a small chuckle, though it was filled with pain. "You won't do it alone. Pastor Paulus will be there. You only need to assist him."
Aivilo clenched his fists. "I won't do it."
Silence filled the room.
Benedictus closed his eyes for a moment before speaking again, his voice softer yet heavier.
"Aivilo… if you don't do this, more people will die."
Sister Maria hurried in, her face filled with concern.
"Aivilo, it's your mother on the phone," she said, handing him the phone.
Aivilo hesitated for a moment before taking it. "Hello?"
From the other end, his mother's voice sounded hoarse, as if she had been crying. "Aivilo… how is your brother?"
Aivilo took a deep breath. "He's still holding on, Mom. But his condition… it's serious."
A quiet sob could be heard before his mother responded, "I want to be there… but I can't leave work right now. Please, take care of him for me."
"I'll try," Aivilo replied briefly.
After ending the call, he returned the phone to Sister Maria. "Thank you, Sister."
She only nodded with a sympathetic expression.
After spending some more time with Benedictus, Aivilo finally decided to go home. His mind was restless. Everything his brother had said kept echoing in his head.
Exorcism? Father Paulus? Was all of this really connected to his brother's illness?
On his way home, he gripped the steering wheel tightly. Something was bothering him—something he couldn't just ignore.
Maybe… I have to find the answer myself.
Aivilo sighed.
"Alright. This Sunday, I'll go to church. Maybe there, I'll find something."