Chapter 40: GolemYoung Pancratios advanced towards the table and put in it a cup of tea with which the monks prepared to pass a sleepless night. He noted, sideways, the Healer absorbed in the study of the old codex. He couldn't help saying with a sneer:
- Devil's writings. Your Order must have fallen too low to have to resort to the ravings of a witch.
Marcus looked up and down to the novice.
- I think, Pancratios, you shouldn't dump your bitterness on either. That's also falling too low for someone who claims to be a Christian, right?
The boy turned away, offended, and left. Marcus took the cup and sipped the decoction of herbs. If not for it, he would have already spent hours sleeping and drooling over the codex. Even the fascinating text was too much for his old age and weakness.
- Bitter is the sacrifice of a mother who must choose between her children he read, fingering the scroll dooming one, betraying the other, saving another one.
- Sounds very strange.
Nikos was back there. There
Chapter 39: Old wounds- There it is, Doctor.
Giselle looked down the valley and watched the green vastness from which rose the rocky cliffs crowned by monasteries. In another time, perhaps, her heart had been touched by such beauty, as any human being moved by Meteora's ancient dignity, but she had spent too much time between specimens and flasks, cutting, sewing, opening bodies, managing and operating. Too many miles of blank corridors and operating rooms had passed before her eyes. If ever there was any feeling in her soul that could be moved by this vision, it had disappeared.
Now she only saw an adverse terrain where vainly sought refuge a bunch of bigots who had helped to kill Karel. Her mind, dull with hate, was barely aware of what she had left behind in Romania, a huge number of police officers looking for her, which would eventually extend beyond borders. Such a thing was not important to her.
Beside the great coach, Schäffer threw a critical eye on her. He had sworn to serve her above all, bu
Chapter 38: Sybilla Satanica"I was young and ambitious. I longed for above all knowledge and wisdom. And he was very, very old, as old as he had seen pass whole ages and ages as a single moment of our mortal life. He was old and eternal, and I was young and ambitious. I let myself be seduced by him.
I don't know if the woman who bore you talked about how he was. The truth is that he had an ordinary look; he wasn't a marvel of beauty and perfection as you are. He was very tall, blond with blue eyes. He was always dressed in black, very elegantly. He had chosen to be called Joachim Karel, taking a mortal name from the Hebrew language, as was usual among the Nephilim. So your mother chose yours, no doubt.
He... he came to me in a stormy night. I had already become a deacon in my unstoppable ascent, and slept a feverish sleep among the manuscripts that my solicitous protector, the former Cardinal Ratzinger, had let me see. I looked up at a certain moment, startled by the sudden burst of lightning, and then I saw him
Chapter 37: Road to Damascus II- Madam... - Radha stammered, fighting with that language which was not yet familiar to her - Madam, please ...
But Marie was not listening. Nestled next to the wall, and with her face turned towards it, Marie was crying with all the helplessness of the world. Around her, came and went different police officers who had been following the withdrawal of firefighters.
They removed the charred remains of books, records, documents... even Zip's computer had burned and destroyed. But it wasn't for this Marie was crying, but for who was lying under a blanket of plastic, with his head crushed, amid the ruined library.
- We shouldn't have left him alone... we shouldn't have left him alone!
So Marie wept and wailed for hours, stroking her black hair. Radha didn't understand what could have they made to help Ivanoff, but still weighed on her soul Marie's pain and the death of this good man whom she hadn't come to know very much, but who had always managed a glance of sympathy at her.
And more aft
Chapter 37: Road to Damascus I- As you know - continued Marcus - the Order to which I belong is dead, since only two members survived: a very old Healer whom I suspect remains little of life, and a Fighter who never put himself to the service of his Order, so he's therefore almost as if he doesn't count. However, there's the possibility for the Order to reborn.
The monks, who that day seemed jungle's parrots more than a silent community, broke out again in whispers. No wonder. For centuries, and being not always in danger, the Lux Veritatis had been the guarantor of peace and stability in the community and the world, but very few (and it was what suited) were aware of that sacrifice. The war between mortals and demons had been hidden but had come to destroy to those who by their mortal nature, and even having many Dons, at the end had finally succumb under evil creatures who outnumbered them, apart from having to face the Dark Alchemist and the last Nephilim.
Of course these ones, except for the demons that always