They say when a devil covets, they do not ask.
They do not whisper.
They do not love—but consumes and binds.
They take.
They command.
They obsessed.
And once you are his, not even death may grant you freedom.
When I was a child, I always believe that it was nothing but a cautionary tales whispered by the Reverend Mother and the sisters through the candlelight. Tales to frighten us into prayer, to bind our hearts into the will of God. As if bending our knees could bring us the salvation itself.
I had always believed that as long as I remained within the cold, white-stone walls, the devil could never reach me.
But...
He found me.
Not in the depths of the darkness of the forest, nor in the shadows of ruthless battlefields.
No.
He, the devil himself, had found me in the sacred house of God. Among the whispered vows and trembling knees, in the moment I clutched the red rosary between my hands. He has come to collect a soul he had already claimed as his prize.
And I knew by then when the devil covets me, I would not die a saint.
I would die as his.
"Sister Avangeline? The Reverend Mother is calling for you." The voice was soft, almost hesitant. It was Sister Miriam, no doubt.
Her shadow stretched across the marble floor and crawled into the hanging sheets of my white linen bed. I did not answer and curled into my red rosary. I could feel the beads pressing into my palm.
I looked up into the dark solemn sky throughout the glass window. And saw the cloulds crying as the wind sing its lullabies. I sighed at the sight, as though I, too, were waiting for the heavens to break open.
"Sister Avangeline?" Miriam's voice came again, closer this time.
And when I finally gazed at her, she had stepped into my chanber. Her eyes were worried but stood in silence. She was staring at me.
"Pardon me, sister. I was lost in thought. Is the Reverend Mother calling for me?" I asked.
Mirriam nodded. "Yes, and it is nearly time for supper."
Again, I softly smiled. I put my red rosary down upon the folds of my blanket.
"I will go. Thank you, Sister Miriam," I said, rising to my feet.
Sister Miriam stepped aside, although she was silent but her eyes lingered through me. We walked together into the dimly lit corridor. I gripped into the candlelight I was carrying as our footsteps echoe and pressing in all sides of the marble floor beneath us.
No one dared to speak and shatter the fragile quiet between us. If not for the sound of our footsteps and smooth rythmn of our breathing, we would be hushed by a deafening silence.
As we drew closer into the chamber of Reverend Mother, faint, harsh whispers met my ears.
"But Reverend Mother, if we do not abide by their orders—we will be condemned!"
"The war does not cease but grows crueler by the day, Reverend Mother. So I beg you, please... listen to our pleas, however hopeless they may seem."
A war? Had there been a war happening in our country?
I looked at Sister Miriam, as if seeking an answer, but she, too, was startled. Her eyes widened in surprise, her brow furrowing as the murmurs from beyond the door crept through the thick wood of the Reverend Mother's chamber.
"But leaving this convent where we've spent years praying is unthinkable, sister. Surely there are other ways to prevent—"
A pause.
"No...I think it would be best to speak of this matter another day. Let us all rest for the night."
There was a moment of silence. The harsh whispers stopped. So I raised my hand and decided to knock on the door but even before my knuckles touch the old wooden door, it had already opened.
We were greeted by Sister Margaret and Sister Thalia with disappointment written all over their faces. I bow my head in respect of them. They smiled and stared at me for a little longer.
"You have been growing with such grace, Sister Avangeline. The Reverend Mother is waiting for you." Even as their words left me uncertain, I stepped quietly into the chamber.
Sister Miriam lingered at the threshold. I thought she was going to stay but didn't. She smiled at me before looking at Reverend Mother who was sitting on her wooden chair.
"I shall take my leave now, Reverend Mother," she said gently, then closed the door.
I stood in silence, watching as the Reverend Mother continued writing a letter. I longed to ask her about the war that was spreading through our country, but it was as if all the words on my tongue had been swallowed. So I did not dare to speak any words and just shut my mouth.
After a long pause of silence, the Reverend Mother stood up and looked at me.
"Avangelina..." with a little whisper of my name, I immediately sought for her hands.
"Yes, Reverend Mother?"
I help her carefully to her mattress, we sat onto the edge as I wait for her to spoke. Reverend Mother, even with her sharp gaze and almost wrinkled fair face, I still feel the warm she had embraced me throughout the years I grew up. She was my mother figure, the one who raised and cared for me.
"Your birthday draws near and you'll be twenty soon." Although her voice was firm without a hint of softness, I still felt a strange warmth stir in my chest. She caressed my hand. "Such a meaningful age, wouldn't you say so?"
A faint smile tugged at my lips. Is this the reason she calls for me?
"I think so. I would finally swear my vow in the name of God Cerathis, would I not, Reverend Mother?"
But Reverend Mother didn't answer, she carefully put aside my hand to my lap before reaching for a small box on the top of her side table.
"When your mother came to the convent, she was always holding this." Reverend Mother took a golden necklace out of the box.
It was the first time she ever mentioned my mother after a long period of time, so it makes me wonder for the sudden tales of her. When I was a child, I've always love to hear about her. There were only small ideas of her that Reverend Mother would tell me.
She said my mother came from a fallen noble house and she died at a young age giving birth to me. But even so, her beauty is ethereal, befitting a daughter of a noble. She was kind and full of warm. And sometimes, Reverend Mother would tell me I remind her of my mother.
And was it possible? To long for someone I have never met?
Reverend Mother took my hand and place the golden necklace on my palm. It was a delicate thing, as light as the whisper of the wind yet its weight pressed into my skin deeply. A keepsake from my mother, shaped like a teardrop. There was a stone stained by a red wine in the center, almost like a wilted roses.
Reverend Mother closed my fingers around it gently, as though sealing a promise. She then looked straight into my eyes, her blue eyes turning gray in the night glinted as the candlelight flickered.
"She wished for you to receive this on the day you turned twenty, But I fear we no longer have the luxury of time."
Confuse, I could feel my brows furrowing. "I do not understand, Reverend Mother."
Her words weight as if time is so out of reach.
But she just smiled and reached out for my cheeks. It was reverent, the way she cupped my cheeks.
"My child," she said softly, "there may come a time when you will be asked to give more than you can bear."
Her voice become lower, edged with something unspoken. "In that hour… choose yourself."
I swallowed. "Reverend Mother—"
But she shook her head and smiled, assuring me somehow. "There may come a time the world would demands for your soul but do not mistake silence for obedience, Avangelina. Run if you must."
She pressed the necklace into my palm. "And this keepsake of your mother is promise. You will be protected." she said in her firm voice.
I sat there stunned with her words. Bewildered. Lost.
"In every prayer I utter, child. And in every moment you choose to live."
But was your words true, Reverend Mother?
Because if it is, why would I be choosing to stand at the edge of an immoral sin just to survive?
"My love..." his voice sliced like a blade. Soft yet heavy with mockery.
"Isn't it blasphemous," he continued, "for a woman who claims herself wed to god… be doing such an act?"
A lone tear escaped from my eyes, chasing the shame and sorrow already burning in my chest.. Legs were trembling as I stand on the edge of the stone railings. Beneath was nothing but the darkness. A black lake without end.
The cold bit into my skin, but it was his voice that chilled my bones.
If only I had listened to Reverend Mother.
If only I had run.
Maybe by then, I would be clutching my red rosary and not the ache in my chest.
Maybe I would still believe in salvation.
I looked at him eyes brimming with tears and sorrow that hollowed my chest. And there he was, a devil-incarnate, they said. He wore no horns upon his head or flames upon his hand.
But a face of a fallen god draped in eternal beauty.
He stepped closer, a mocking grin written on his lips. And I, the fool, stepped backward. Afraid.
I was not afraid to fall into an endless lake, but I feared the thought of an immoral sin that God Cerathis forbade.
"I wonder." I stepped backwards, afraid that I would be within his reach. I clutched tightly to the keepsake of my mother.
"Will your god forgive you," he said, inching closer, "for letting me touch what was his?"
My breath caught, for the words rang true. They pierced deeper than any sword. And so, before he could even reach me, I smiled and jumped into the lake like it was promised. I spread my arms and closed my eyes, embracing whatever awaited me.
And for the last time, I prayed.
Cerathis, I beg your pardon—for I have fallen.
Fallen from grace.
Fallen from faith.
Fallen into...
But when I opened my eyes, I saw him. His hands were reaching as he too had jumped from above. He, the devil who covets me, wrapped me in his arms.
A devil does not ask.
"Avangelina, even if your god weeps..." I felt his lips tracing my skin.
"You will always be mine," but they did whisper.
"You may kneel at his altar," he laughed. "but my love... your soul already answers to me."