⚠️ Warning ⚠️The following chapter contains graphic descriptions relatedto sexual themes, trauma, and psychological violence.
The author does not seek to be morbid,but to portray a human reality.
Everything narrated in this work is fiction.Reader discretion is advised.
💬 Author's Note 💬You know, guys? I can somehow identify myself with Helena.Helena is one of those characters who wasn't planned,and yet, I'm glad I wrote her.
I don't regret touching this subject.Never in my life had I heard that a prostitutecould be chosen for a prophecy.
I hope I'm not the first,but at least one of the few to break that stereotype.It deeply hurts me to have discovered
the reality of Brazil in 1964.It's a historical wound,one that weighs even within fiction.
I sincerely believethat people like Helena are incredible.An empowered woman.To me, Helena is the Saint of Light.✨✍️ Tholio, 2025
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Night had already fallen.Kamei-san and Jack arrived at the border town.It was Brattleboro, between Vermont and Massachusetts.
A place prosperous enough to move gold.
An Irishman, owner of the business, ran it togetherwith his two daughters.
He had that tense calmof someone who learned to earn his breadby looking customers straight in the eye.
The business had prospered for ten years,thanks to the gold Kamei-san brought them.
Though they never knew that metal was divine.
Kamei-san kept that information secret,wanting to test whether the Irishmanwas a man worthy of trust,or just another one who'd sell himself for coins.
The Irishman, without knowing it, had built his fortune.He arrived as an immigrant, with no roof or money,worn-out clothes, and dreams on his back.One could say that God, somehow,had reached out a hand to him.
He remembered how they met.
Kamei-san was at the market when he saw a manbeing stopped for selling fruit from an unlicensed cart.
As an illegal immigrant, that could mean prison.
Kamei-san handed over all the money from his day,even his fruit cart, as a bribeto keep the man from being arrested.
The man sat down on the pavement and broke into tears.
Then Kamei-san approached and asked,"How much for that apple?"
The Irishman looked up.
An apple had rolled off his cart."Go to hell... you trying to make fun of me, huh?"
Kamei-san sat beside him on the groundand paid him twenty dollars for one apple.
The Irishman stared at him, incredulous.
"This apple is worth a lot because you're the one selling it.I would never mock someone so hardworking."
Over time, Kamei-san helped the familywith about one hundred thirty-eight grams of goldin small nuggets.
"Make up some silly excuse, like you found them in the river.They're real. This should last you a few days.Your babies need to eat."
But the Irishman didn't do that.He spent the whole night melting the gold in a makeshift forge,mixing it with a silver fork.
The next morning, he went to a local jeweler.
At first, the man would have thrown him out for his looks,but curiosity made him examine the ring.
"If you made this piece of junk by hand," he said,"you won't sell it anywhere, but...this gold is strange. It shines too much.Where did you get it?"
"From the river, sir."
The jeweler glanced at him from the corner of his eye."You don't have a job, do you, kid?"
"No, sir."
Something stirred in the jeweler's chest."If you want to learn how real gold is treated,come tomorrow. I need someone hungry for this."
Eight years passed.The young man worked alongside that man,learning the trade and the secrets of metal.
Later, he founded his own business.He named it Aoife, in honor of his wife,who gave birth to their twin daughters.
Times were good for that man.
"Hey! How are you, Eamon?" greeted Kamei-san.
Eamon raised his hand in surprise."Hey! How are you? It's been a while!Come in. You must have gold for me."
"I buy it, you sell it, everyone's happy."
But Eamon noticed the young man behind Kamei-san.His smile froze, and he grabbed his mustache."No way! Ah! God, boy!What happened to your face?"
Jack hesitated. He didn't know what to say."Do I have something wrong with my face?"
"Relax, Eamon," said Kamei-san."Don't worry, he's a good boy."
Eamon, suspicious, lowered his gaze and showed his gun."Boy! You've got a hood face."
Jack saw it. Not out of fear, but curiosity.He analyzed the word.
"Hood?..." he repeated.He turned toward Kamei-san."Kamei-san, Hood is... someone who sells wood?"
Eamon let out a short laugh,a mix of surprise and mockery.He hadn't expected such a naïve answer.
"You know what? Forget it. Come on in."
Both of them crossed the door,entering the man's house.
____________________________________________________
While this was happening in Brattleboro, around seven p.m.,it was already nine in Brazil.
Galton had been working since the afternoon,without stopping for even a second.
He was building a semi-improvised house.He buried logs to raise the cut floor
and keep out the moisture rising from the ground.With his machete, he shaped the wood,strike by strike, until he got walkable planks.
The dry sound of metal blendedwith the song of nocturnal insects.
Helena had slept on the grass all afternoon.She had knocked herself out after falling from the hill.
Among trees and rocks, she suffered deep scrapes.Nothing serious, but painful nonetheless.
Galton watched her sleep.
Unconsciously, she kept her hands between her legs,rubbing hard, as if her anxiety wouldn't leave her alone,not even in her sleep.
She breathed with difficulty, agitated, in a faint thread.
"Since I kidnapped her, she hasn't stopped doing that."
"She's not like Adelaida, or Nuriel, or Jack."
"I feel sorry just seeing her."
He tied her hands and feetso she could rest without hurting herself.
"Perfect. Better leave her that way," said Galton."It's annoying to watch her move while she sleeps."
He placed a log by the edge of the structureand lit a campfire to prepare soup.
It was a strange mixture, almost a mash—a porridge of potato, cassava, mushrooms, and roots.
He used lion's mane, Reishi, and Ashwagandha.He knew those mushrooms were medicinal.
He saw Kamei-san give it to Jack so he could sleep.
He thought that if he repeated it, it might help her.
He didn't know much, but he had faith it would work.
He brought the mushrooms from his travels to China.He visited his son's grave on that trip.
Helena felt the heat of the fire, and also the smell of food;she slowly opened her eyes.
She was no longer on the ground.
She lay on padded blankets.
Covered with an animal hide.
She had a damp cloth on her forehead.
And her hands and feet were tied.
She felt nervous at first.Galton exhaled loudly."Don't take it off. Don't untie yourself."
"Girl, do you know you touch yourself at night?"
Helena was stunned."Do I do that?" she said.
"Don't do it," said Galton."It's miserable to see you in that state."
He held a thick wooden comb.
Its teeth were spaced four centimeters apart.He approached with the mash in his hand.
"Girl, eat this."
"What is that?"
"Take this and this anise tea.You'll feel better."
"I know you haven't slept well these days.""I need a strong saint.""A sick saint won't do for me."
Helena began to eat delicately."What is this? It tastes weird," she said, displeased.
Galton, in a gruff voice as if scolding, said,"Eat it, or I'll throw you in the river again."
Helena obeyed, though she didn't like the taste;she told herself so.
"This tastes bad... it's like I'm eating chicken liver."
Galton untied his bun and moved behind her.
"What are you doing?" she said, nervous.
"Relax, girl.You still have ants in your hair."
"You fell asleep on the grass.They're big, black ants, the size of beans."
"I want to see your back and heal you.I have a paste that might help."
"What is that thing?"
"It's an anti-inflammatory.If it swells, you'll start scratching."
"This will ease the itching."
While she ate, Galton gently combed her hair.He applied the cream carefully.
Helena drank the tea and relaxed.She felt as if she were being cared forin a strange, tender way.
The comb touched her head,and she couldn't help feeling pain at first,since it kept getting stuck.
However, Galton applied olive oil to her hairto make it easier to find the ants,and to avoid making Helena more uncomfortable.
Galton thought:
"Zaziel had messy hair too,and I did the same with Helena.I remember when he was a child,and his hair got tangled."
"It seemed like a girl wanted to comb my son's hair.I don't blame her—my boy was handsome; he got that from his mother."
"My Zaziel..."
However, Galton realized that Helenacould barely stay seated.Her exhaustion was clear in her eyes.
After applying the medicineon her back and arms, Galton paused.
He laid her down gently.
"Galton, that tasted weird."
"Very bad, kind of disgusting...But I feel so... relaxed."
"What is that?... What did you give me?"
"A tranquilizer," Galton replied.
"A mushroom recipe Kamei-san taught me."
"Tomorrow we'll train again.And please, stop touching yourself."
"It's unpleasant."
"Mushrooms?" said Helena.
"Yes, girl.Now you'll finally sleep peacefully."
Galton looked annoyed.
The rain was starting to fall.
The improvised hut held up well.The palm leaves didn't leak,thanks to the mud and branches.
"Thank you, Galton," said Helena.Galton stared at her intently.
She felt safe,for the first time since she met him.
"I've never felt this relaxed.I feel like my body is floating."
"I'm light... but so tired.I can't move my arms... or my legs.Even moving... my eyes makes me sleepy."
And with a look that reflected all she felt,"Thank you, Galton. Thank you..."
She fell asleep immediately.A silence adorned the sound of the rainfor a brief moment.
Then the rain returned,as if answering her unspoken doubts—a perfect scene for questions to arise.
He laid her down gently.
"Galton, that tasted weird."
"Very bad, kind of disgusting...But I feel so... relaxed."
"What is that?... What did you give me?"
"A tranquilizer," Galton replied."A mushroom recipe Kamei-san taught me."
"Tomorrow we'll train again.And please, stop touching yourself."
"It's unpleasant."
"Mushrooms?" said Helena.
"Yes, girl.Now you'll finally sleep peacefully."
Galton looked annoyed.The rain began to fall.The improvised hut held up well.The palm leaves had no leaks,thanks to the mud and leaves.
"Thank you, Galton," said Helena.
Galton looked at her intently.She felt safe,for the first time since she met him.
"I've never felt so relaxed.I feel like my body is floating."
"I'm light... but so tired.I can't move my arms... or my legs.Even moving... my eyes makes me sleepy."
And with a look that reflected all she felt:
"Thank you, Galton. Thank you..."
She fell asleep immediately.
A silence decorated the sound of the surroundingsfor a moment.
Then the rain returned,as if responding to her doubts—a perfect scene for questions to arise.
To reflect, or to take another path:
"The spiritual world shook this morning.I have to speed things up and train this woman."
But his irritation turned into fatigueas he watched Helena sleep.He didn't see a woman—he saw a helpless girl.A girl who had been comforted,and who, after days without proper rest,was finally sleeping deeply.
"Why do I feel empathy for this girl?""It makes no sense.""Why am I helping her like this?""It's annoying... but seeing her sleep calms me."
He looked toward the horizon.The rain was getting heavier.The campfire remained protectedunder the hut's roof.
"If the vault has fallen...we don't have much time left."
"It could be a divine sign.Or something far worse."
"I just hope it's my imagination.What I felt this morning."
However, that small moment that could havebrought peace for the next morning—the next step toward divine strength—turned into a horrible scene.
Helena was deeply asleep.Yet, once again, her hands were between her legs.
It was dawn,and the only things in her mindwere a mix of memories,thoughts, and fears.
It seemed that, this time,while sleeping, the spirits tormented her.
As she dreamed,she was back in that hotel in Rio de Janeiro.
She wore a beautiful flared dress—the same one she had dreamed of havingwhen she was twelve.
It fit her perfectly.
It was pretty, yes,but she had to attend to the clients.
And the clients came in—Americans, older men, young ones,even women.
At first, none of them had faces.And what those things didwas surround her in the middle of the bed.
She didn't understand anything.She breathed fast, trembling all over.
Then, those people began to hold her down.
And without explanation, they started to be covered in blood,from their heads until almost their entire bodies were soaked,as if they were bathing in it.
But that blood wasn't red.It was burgundy.A dark tone, almost black.
They grabbed her arms and feet.Helena tried to scream, but she couldn't.Her voice drowned in her chest.
The hotel collapsed in silence.And suddenly, she was in the void.
Everything was nothing.Only bodies piling up like a mountain before her,crawling through the black bloodthat spread everywhere.
Helena trembled.She didn't understand anything,didn't know where she was,nor what kind of world her mind was showing her.
Then, a memory pulled her into the past.It was her mother.
"Sweetie, you're going to work with your grandmother.She'll pay you a few cents.Behave, and don't eat the bananas, okay?"
The little girl smiled and left home.
And the memory spun,as if the world were turningaround a whirlwind of emotions.
Now Helena was fourteen.She stood in front of a neighbor's house in the favela.
Her aunt said:
"Helena, you just have to practice, okay? Practice.I'll be right next to you, don't worry."
"I'm going to listen to what that man does.He'll pay you. That money will be yours, not mine.I just want you to understand how this works, alright?"
Helena was scared.Her aunt took her into the room.
A fourteen-year-old girl, with her aunt,entering the room of a fifty-seven-year-old man.
The door slammed shut.And only the sounds of her could be heard.
She abandoned her innocenceonly for money.
And in that noise,the fate of her future was sealed.
A haughty fifteen-year-old Helena.In front of the mirror, she clumsily put on makeup.She was going out with her new friend, Cintia.
And her mother, from the kitchen, yelled at her aunt.
"You taught her what? That's why she goes out at nightand I don't even notice!"
She ran toward Helena.
"Daughter, please, don't go."
But Helena shouted,
"Mom, please, I'm already an adult.I have to start earning money.You take care of the laundry,I'll take care of the money.Grandma will handle the food,I'll handle the money.Don't worry, I'll be fine.Please, stop bothering me."
Her mother stood still, crying.Helena left without looking back.
And she returned to the scene.The mountain of bodies was still there,rubbing against each other, coveredin black blood.
The beautiful dress was stained too,and she whispered with guilt,
"Why did I say that to my mom?Why didn't I tell her how much I loved her?"
Then the memory shattered.Her stepfather had left home.He had discovered she wasn'tborn out of love, but from an abomination.
And she remembered how every day,without rest, she did what was necessaryto bring money home.At any cost.
The voices surrounded her."Dear. Beautiful."
They were faceless faces, covered in blood.
"Why are you crying? You did nothing wrong."
Helena shook her head.
"Yes, I did something wrong.I shouldn't have talked to my mom that way.Maybe she was right."
"Maybe I shouldn't have done this.I can't even have a boyfriend.My first one ran awaywhen he found out what I did."
Her voice broke.
"I feel so lonely."
But the voices insisted, soft,as if laughing inside her head.
"Lonely? You're always surrounded by men.Sometimes by women.Why should you feel ashamed,if this is what you are?"
Helena trembled.
"No. That's not true."
"This is what you are."
"Since you were born, Helena.Since your birth, you've been this way."
"No, please, stop!"
"Accept yourself as you are."
"You're a mistake."
"You're the degeneration."
"This is what you are."
"A whore."
And Helena began to scream,denying everything helplessly,because those voices had her voice.
Hanging in the middle of nothingness, Helena screamed.
"No, please. Stop. I'm none of that.I don't want to be here. I want to go back to my mom.I want to go back to my brothers, my grandma, my aunt."
But her sentence had already been declared.The shapeless bodies began to move.
Rubbing against each other,until they formed a single beast.
It had the head of a crocodile,of a bear,and of a man.
All three spoke at once.
"It's true, Helena. Why are you ashamed?You loved it, you liked it, you still do,and it shows."
"Do you think denying it would make youmore worthy of being a saint? No.Your mother was wrong about you,your aunt was wrong about you.You are a mistake.Even Galton admitted it.Your place in creationis a mistake."
"Your birth, your work, everything.And you know what?You like being a mistake.Because if you didn't,you wouldn't be here."
The bodies began to surround her,grabbing her by the arms and legs.They licked her as if trying to dissolve her.
She screamed in despair."Let me go, please! Let me go!"
Then a man appeared—the first she had ever served—staring at her lustfully.
He kissed her,and his tongue pressed so hardit was suffocating her.
It entered through her mouth,through her nose,through her eyes.
And in the midst of horror,she heard a voice.
"It's obvious, Helena,that you were chosen by God."
The tone was mocking.
"It's clear that if you're a saint of light,you're nothing but filth."
"That's what you are, Helena.A whore.A girl pretending to be a woman."
Helena opened her eyes suddenly.She had awakened.
She vomited on herself.It was what Galton had given her.
Her body was trembling.The rope he had tied her withwas broken.
She had fought with all her strength.Her hands were still between her legs.
She curled up, in a fetal position."Mom… mom… Marcos… mom…""I'm sorry… sorry… sorry…"
She brought her hands to her mouth,covered in vomit.
She had nothing to clean herself with.Only fear.
Her breathing was short, frantic.She had been like that for days,more than a week and a halfwithout smoking,without touching anyone,without relief.
The anxiety was killing her.Galton's exercises didn't help,nor his medicine,nor his empty words.
Helena cried for a few more minutes.She tried to calm herself down.
She remembered the waterGalton had boiled.She drank a little, rinsed, and spat.Then she drank again.
She wiped her body with a damp cloth.She looked at Galton sleeping.
And in her mind, she murmured:"This is madness…""But I can't go on like this.I need help."
She crawled toward him,on her hands and knees,and slowly,with trembling delicacy,managed to siton his stomach.
She was shaking.
She knew who Galton was.She knew what he represented.
He didn't even seem attractive to her.He was a bearded man, nearly forty.
And she said it in whispers, barely breathing."Galton… I'm so sorry, but I really need help.I can't keep going like this, please.Just once… I'm just asking for help, please."
Helena was one step away from making a mistake.She wasn't thinking. She wasn't reasoning.There wasn't a voice in her head saying stop.
It seemed that, at last,she was accepting what she was.
She was scared.She felt dirty, nervous.Her heart was pounding so hardshe could hear it inside the silence.
It was like a small drum,echoing in the void.The sound of life and fear intertwined,beating against her chest again and again.
Meanwhile, Galton barely reacted.His breathing was heavy, slow.He was still asleep.
He barely felt Helena's presence.He had also tasted a little of the soup.
As he slept, he dreamed.And in his dream, he saw someone:Batuya.
In the dream, she said:
"Thiago… you love me, don't you?"
And the dream faded awaybecause he opened his eyesand
realized Helenawas trading her lips with his.
Helena was making a mistake.