For a long moment, no one spoke.
The church stood still. The candles lit themselves one by one—not in flame, but in a dim, trembling glow that barely pushed back the shadows clinging to the corners of the sanctuary.
Michael stirred first.
Victor was already kneeling beside him when his chest rose with a deeper breath.
"Michael?" Cynthia whispered.
His eyelids fluttered, then opened slowly. The darkness that had filled his eyes was gone.
"I… I'm here," he said hoarsely.
Cynthia let out a sigh of relief, clutching his hand with both of hers. "You scared me," she whispered. "You scared us."
Michael swallowed hard. "I scared myself."
Father Lucas approached slowly, studying Michael with a cautious intensity. "The possession is gone," he said. "What held him has been forced out—for now, he's fine."
"For now?" Cynthia echoed.
The assisting priest crossed himself. "Purification does not mean safety," he said quietly. "It means survival and soul return."
Michael pushed himself up with Victor's help, his movements unsteady. "Mary," he said immediately. His voice sharpened with fear. "Where's Mary?"
The question landed heavily between them.
Victor looked away first.
"She ran," he said. "Before the church. Before… everything."
Michael's face was drained of color. "She's alone."
"I'm not sure if there is any Mary anymore," Cynthia added, softly looking down.
A silence followed—thick, suffocating.
Father Lucas turned back toward the altar. The stone beneath it looked whole again, but Victor could still feel it, like something breathing beneath the floor.
"It wasn't a coincidence," the priest said. "The book. The altar. You. All of it. It wants to be free."
Victor clenched his fists. "Then tell us," he said. "No more half-truths."
Father Lucas nodded once. "Come."
They did not stay long in the church.
They went outside to retrieve the book from where Victor had hidden it earlier—wrapped in cloth, bound in rope, heavy in a way that had nothing to do with weight. The moment his fingers touched it again, his vision blurred.
Not a full vision.
Just a pull.
Like standing at the edge of a pit that had no bottom.
Cynthia noticed. "Are you alright?"
He snapped back to reality immediately. "Yea I'm fine… I'm fine."
They took it outside, into the open air behind the church where an old stone sat and was forgotten.
"Let's try to burn it and see what happens," the priest said, his voice was calm, and his looks were serious. "Now."
Victor nodded. Michael said nothing.
Cynthia clings onto Victor's shirt.
They built the fire quickly. Dry wood caught fast, flames climbing high and angry. Victor hesitated only a moment before throwing the book into the center.
It did not burn.
The flames licked its cover, curled around its spine—but the pages did not blacken. They did not curl. They did not smoke.
The fire suddenly went out immediately when the book opened.
Michael staggered to his feet. "That's not possible."
Victor stepped closer despite the heat. "It's not paper," he said quietly. "It never was."
He reached out and tore a page free.
The sound it made was wrong—wet, like tearing flesh.
The page did not end.
It stretched.
Folded inward.
Then fell back into the book, vanishing as if it had never existed.
Cynthia backed away, horrified. "There's no way to destroy it?"
Father Lucas's face was grim. "It is a mouth," he said. "Not a record."
Victor slammed the book shut.
"So we can't destroy it?" he said. "And we can't ignore it."
The mark on his wrist pulsed in agreement.
After other attempts to damage the book but failed. They returned inside.
Father Lucas led them beneath the church, down a narrow staircase hidden behind the sacristy, into a chamber few even knew existed.
"This is where it began," he said.
The air grew colder with each step.
He lit a lantern and began to speak.
"Centuries ago, before this church stood as it does now, there was a sister here. Veronica was her name, but it has been erased from records. But her gift was known."
The lantern's light flickered.
"She wrote stories," he continued. "Not with ink. With her blood."
"She loved writing stories as she believed she was honoring God. Writing the truth of people's lives. But each time she finished a story… it came true at the end of the day."
"She would bring the stories to the priests. And by nightfall, someone would die—exactly as she wrote in the book."
" It started to bother the priest because it happened several times to call it a coincidence. He took the book from her and locked it up, then he warned her never to write with blood again…. After that day, she changed."
"She wasn't happy about this so she went into her room and shut the door…. Whenever other sisters passed by, they would hear her speaking to someone who was not there," Father Lucas said. "A friend who visited her at night. One who promised her that her stories mattered. Whenever someone walks in to see who it was, she will be alone doing something, either sleeping or playing dumb."
Victor felt a cold spread through his chest.
"This went on for months," Father Lucas went on. "At one time during prayers, she would not be able to respond, she would freeze till the prayers were over. And when they confronted her to know why or what was wrong with her. She would shout at them in many voices, causing the church to tremble."
"So they reported the matter to the priest, after witnessing it for himself. He called the sister at a gathering and asked her who she always talks to at night in her room. She said her friend usually visits her at night. This made the sisters at the gathering terrified. After hearing her reply, he quickly called another priest to perform an exorcism on her," Father Lucas said, then paused.
He reached out for a bottle of water before he continued. "They began to perform an exorcism on her. The whole church was trembling –not out of fear but because of the spiritual battle of the demon fighting to stay inside the girl. After many attempts, it was confirmed that she was possessed by many demons. She let out a powerful scream that broke glasses and shifted chairs, threatening to wipe them all. The priest took out holy water and splashed it on her, causing her to collapse temporarily."
"She wasn't dead, right?" Cynthia asked.
Father Lucas sighed. "She wasn't. They could still see her breathing abnormally, so they quickly wrapped her up with a white garment and drew a cross sign on her forehead. Dipped her inside holy water and cast so many prayers on her before putting her in a coffin and sealing it."
The lantern shook as the memory pressed close.
"They sealed her alive," the assisting priest said quietly. "With the book."
Victor closed his eyes. Cynthia covered her mouth out of shock.
"They buried the coffin beneath the altar," Father Lucas said. "A long time passed and everything was normal again, but at a time, the sisters were complaining that anytime they prayed, they would hear voices crying out to release me. So they reported it to the priest and more rituals were performed. She was buried deeper. The voices went away."
Silence followed.
"Until Elias?" Victor said.
Father Lucas looked at him sharply.
"You've seen him," he said.
Victor nodded. "He didn't break the seal. When his wife was ill and there was no cure for her, no priest or doctor could heal her. He started looking for dark ways to heal her. That was when he made the deal with this demon who promised to bring his wife back in exchange for their first child. So he agreed, the demon transferred part of its powers to the book appearing before the man."
Michael's fists clenched. "And now it's using us to finish what it started."
"To reopen what was never meant to open and become whole again," Father Lucas said.
Above them, the church creaked.
Somewhere far away—
Mary watched.
Her breath fogged the cold air as she stood at the edge of the trees, eyes glowing faintly in the dark. She pressed a hand to her chest, where something moved—stirring, impatient.
"They're learning," she whispered.
The thing inside her smiled. "Yes. And knowledge always comes too late."
Back beneath the church, the book trembled in Victor's hands.
A new line bled onto the page.
THE CHILD IS BORN.
The lantern went out.