Page 148 of A Silence So Divine

Coward.

The doorknob is stiff when I try it, locked firmly in place. With a tsk, I cock my head. Click. Folding my hands together in front of me, the door swings open.

The old man begs on his knees, hands raised to a picture of his God. Prayers slip through trembling lips, halting when he meets my gaze. The vein in his neck throbs, and his weathered stare hardens.

“Demon,” he hisses, pushing to his feet. A large window sits to the right of him, the force of the storm rattling the glass. Electricity lights up the sky, casting our shadows across the wall. The shine of steel in his fist has me glancing down to his handgun. A rosary is interlaced with his fingers, a bizarre juxtaposition.

I raise my eyes back to his. He points the barrel to my chest.

“Your father should have ended you the moment you were born.” His teeth bare with disgust. “But he was a coward, even in death. And now it is up to me to banish you back to Hell.”

Cocking my head to the side, my hair hangs, dripping onto the pristine wooden floors. His eyes flicker nervously, watching the droplets fall, before narrowing to take aim once more.

When I speak, my voice is my own, but not. It is soft, melodic, otherworldly.

“No,” I murmur, taking a step towards him. The muscle in his arm jumps, like he might pull the trigger, but he can’t. The appendage is utterly useless, frozen. “It is I who banishesyou, Reverend.”

Blinding white envelops the room just as the storm bursts through the glass. The shards miss me, an invisible barrier sparing me from the wind’s rage. The old man isn’t as lucky. With the crack of thunder, his body is swept up and thrown into the far wall. The crunching of bone trumps the volume of the storm. My lip curls in disgust.

Above his lifeless form, the Brothers of Divinity emblem is shaped in wrought iron, hanging from a nail. It sways, falls, busts in two.

A heavy exhale rushes from my lungs, and my shoulders fall forward, all of the energy exiting me as quickly as it came. It leaves behind a burning ember. The pain remains, deep in my bones, and I’m certain it will always live there.

The torrent of rain lifts into a mist, coating the room in its moisture. The wind, too, softens into a docile breeze.

Glass crunches beneath my every step as I leave behind the nightmare, my movements stilted and slow. Mind utterly quiet, I allow my limbs to carry me where they will.

All is quiet, all is wrong.

You know the end.

It isn’t until I hear my name that I realize I’ve made it to the fields.

“Eden!?”

Peering over my shoulder, his brother rushes towards me. The last of my fight gives out. My knees buckle, but he’s already enveloping me. He supports my weight, and I let out a gut wrenching sob.

It doesn’t feel like before.

Sixty Four

Cecil

They’re all dead. I’ve yet to see the bodies, but I would bet anything on the fact. The storm was my first clue, and the stillness that followed. Deep in the catacombs, I couldfeelit. Her power charged the air, shook the ground. We took out the dozen men that slunk around underground; the rest either fleeing or meeting their demise at Eden’s hand. I have no idea how she was able to do it, but it came with a price.

Her fingers are ice, the flesh of my neck at risk of frostbite as she clings to me. Swirls of pink and red cover her, like she’d been drowning in a pool of blood. And her eyes appear different, not as metallic. The silver has faded into a light grey, losing that otherworldly glint.

And her cries… they’re different, somehow. Lighter, truer.

My injured hand screams in protest as I hold her to me. “It’s okay,” I rasp, letting my eyes close. Sylvie and the few others that survived flank us, awaiting direction. Now, it’s a matter of salvaging what we can.Whowe can.

I only allow a minute before I’m pulling back to meet her eyes.

“Have you seen Creed?” I ask, glancing behind her and searching the desolate fields.

A hush falls, the air takes pause. When I search her face, I almost wish for that vacant stare. A non-answer. But there’s so much sorrow—too much. And it’s only confirming the nightmare I’ve fought my whole life to avoid.

“Eden?” I press, pushing her damp locks from her face. My fingers grip the back of her skull, tightening with mounting panic. “Where’s Creed?”