Chapter 13

🚨 Warning: This chapter includes descriptions of the results of physical torture. Please remain mindful of this as you read. If you feel uncomfortable, do not hesitate to stop reading. 🚨

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"Hey, Isabel."

Isabel weakly turned her head. A guard with a rugged face was looking down at her from beyond the bars.

"You have a visitor."

"Am I even allowed visitors?"

The guard stepped aside without answering. Behind him, a man dressed in a priest’s robe appeared.

"Father Samuel?"

The guard opened the prison door. Father Samuel entered the cell, carrying a small bag.

The two looked at each other. Father Samuel was dumbfounded at the sight of Isabel, looking utterly miserable before him. Her prison clothes were soiled, and her face was covered in bruises. The skin exposed below her neck was reddened and blistered from scalding water, with oozing pus.

He stood there and burst into tears.

"Don’t cry, Father Samuel."

But Father Samuel couldn’t stop crying. He covered his face with his hands and sobbed.

"It’s my fault. This is all my fault. If only I hadn’t left you behind that time… If only I had grabbed you and run when that black hand appeared…!"

"Then we would’ve all died."

Isabel said calmly.

“It couldn’t be helped. So save your tears. You probably had to slip quite a bit of money to the guard to get in here. Don’t waste that time.”

Father Samuel’s heart sank even more at Isabel’s calm voice. But he couldn’t just keep crying. As Isabel had said, he had bribed his way in. He had asked his wealthy parents for a large pouch of gold coins and given it to the guard. But the time that the pouch bought him was only thirty minutes.

Father Samuel forced back his tears and took something from his bag. It was a bottle of medicine. He removed Isabel’s clothes and applied the medicine to the skin that had become raw from the torture. Soon, her skin cooled, and the burning pain faded.

“It should remain effective for two or three days. At least until the execution by fire is over...”

"Has the date for the execution been set?"

Father Samuel nodded.

"In the Grand Square, I suppose?"

"Yes."

“In the end, I’ll leave the people one last spectacle to enjoy.”

“Please don’t say that.”

"Why? It’s true. It’ll be the most popular spectacle in recent times. Even more entertaining than the circus."

Isabel let out a short, mocking laugh. Father Samuel bit his lip. It had always been Isabel who spoke her mind, and he who uttered trivial words. But now, their roles had switched. The situation had changed. Facing death, Isabel was far more human than before.

After applying ointment to Isabel’s body, he carefully wrapped her in bandages and helped her get dressed again. Then he took a bottle of wine from his bag, poured some into the cap, and let it flow into Isabel’s mouth.

Isabel drank the liquor with relish.

"Sister, you will surely go to Heaven."

Isabel met his gaze. 

“People all say that you are a witch, that all the service you’ve done was merely a scheme to deceive the Vatican and the righteous. But I do not believe it. The you I have seen up close is holier than anyone, more just than anyone, and more self-sacrificing than anyone. You are the one chosen by God.”

Isabel smiled faintly. She thought of one person who had said something similar: Bishop Nikolai, who had entrusted her with the work of exorcism.

He had been severely reprimanded by the Pope because Isabel had mentioned his name during the confession, and fearing that his position in the Vatican would be weakened, he did nothing at all as Isabel became a living corpse.

“Thank you, Father Samuel. But it feels as if He is taking me back too soon, compared to the abilities He gave me.”

“It must be because He intends to make use of you in Heaven.”

“Yes, I hope so.”

Isabel smiled bitterly.

“It’s better to be useful somewhere than to be useless.”

Father Samuel tried to pour more wine into Isabel’s mouth, but Isabel shook her head. More desperately than ever, she wanted to talk.

“Father Samuel. You see... The truth is, I’m someone who feels ashamed of the reputation I’ve had until now. The reason I fought demons so frantically was all just to vent my anger. I wanted to take revenge on those who stole the people I loved from me. I couldn’t bear the thought of them winning. The faith inside me was nothing but a veil to hide that twisted desire for revenge."

Father Samuel listened to her story in silence.

“But after I was dragged into the Underworld, many things happened that were different from the life I had lived until then. Lucifer showed me the side of myself that I wanted to turn away from. And he put me in a situation where I had to choose sacrifice over revenge. Father Samuel, because of that, I have lost my sacred powers, and death is right at hand, but I don’t mind. Because now, I no longer let my heart become a hell. To hate someone; to live in hatred — that is what true hell is.”

Father Samuel nodded.

“I understand, Sister. I understand, so please stop talking. Save your strength.”

“Thanks to the drink you gave me, I’m okay. Actually, I tend to talk a bit more when I drink, which is why I usually avoid it as much as possible. Looking back now, I should have not just worked with you, but occasionally shared a drink like this and talked about what’s in my heart.”

“Let’s do it in Heaven. Let’s do it a lot in Heaven.”

“Alright. I’ll go on first and wait. I’ll carefully prepare wine from the grapes that have ripened in Paradise and wait, so let’s be sure to have a drink there.”

Isabel laughed again, saying something frivolous. Father Samuel squeezed his eyes shut to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall again. He knew that crying in front of someone facing death would be tears only for himself, not for her.

Father Samuel spent the last ten minutes holding Isabel’s hand and praying. Believing he bore some responsibility for her tragic end, he wanted to do everything he could for her until the very last moment.

As Isabel listened to Father Samuel’s prayers, she wondered: ‘What kind of place is the Heavenly Realm?’ 

Through her recent experiences, she began to suspect that the image created by the Vatican might be quite different from reality. God might not exist, and perhaps problems even more complicated than those in reality were accumulating.

But that seemed fine in its own way. If everything were just flawlessly perfect, there would be nothing left to do.

‘If I go there, will I be able to meet Archangel Michael? I wonder what it would feel like to meet him in person.’

Ten minutes passed. The guard knocked on the bars, urging Father Samuel to come out. Father Samuel hastily took something from his bag. It was a small pouch, no bigger than a thumb joint. He placed it into Isabel’s mouth.

“It is unrefined opium. It is strong enough to harm your health, but it works quickly. Keep it in your mouth, and when the fire catches on the firewood, bite down and swallow it. You will lose consciousness within three minutes.”

Isabel thanked him with her eyes. Father Samuel pressed his lips to the back of her hand, which was wrapped in bandages.

“Holy Sister Isabel, may God’s grace be with you.”

・・・・・

‘Isabel—! Isabel—!’

Isabel came to her senses at the sound of a distant voice. All she could see were masses of light. As she floundered within the radiance, she thought:

‘Am I already dead?’

Then, she heard a voice calling her name again.

‘Isabel—! Isabel—!’

It sounded as if it were echoing through a cave. It was neither a woman’s voice nor a man’s, but a strange voice that felt as though it didn’t exist in this world.

‘Who are you? Who’s calling me?’

Isabel cried out. Soon, through the clusters of light, the shape of someone appeared. It was an androgynous figure dressed in white, with white wings. He flew toward her.

Isabel soon realised that the masses of light surrounding her were coming from the crown he wore. He enclosed Isabel with both hands, and she fit entirely within them. Only then did Isabel realise that she no longer had a physical body. Only her consciousness was floating weightlessly in the air.

‘Isabel, do not be afraid. You are not dead. Not yet.’

‘Who are you? Are you an angel?’

A faint smile crossed his face.

‘Yes, that is right. I am an angel. Most call me Archangel Michael.’

If she had a body, Isabel would have knelt before him immediately.

‘I called you through a dream. There is something I must tell you.’

‘Pl‑please speak, Archangel Michael.’

'You were born within the sacred vortex that God created at the beginning of time. I love each and every one of you humans, just as God loves. But I loved you especially. That is because when you were created within the sacred vortex, a special destiny was granted to you.'

‘A special destiny?’

‘Yes, the very same destiny that was given to the many prophets in the scriptures. You were born to change the world. Your life was designed for that. Everything was decided even before you were born.’

Isabel stared blankly at the archangel. Her entire life had been predetermined?

‘What is the destiny you have granted me? What do you want from me?’

‘Isabel. It will reveal itself to you in time. When it does, you will naturally know what you must do.’

Isabel asked Michael with a troubled heart.

‘Archangel Michael, I am afraid. I am too weak a being to bear such a great task. What if, when I wake from this dream, I think that meeting you was only an illusion? And what if, because of that, I fail to carry out the mission you have given me?’

‘Dear Isabel, do not worry. You will remember everything clearly. I will show you the sign before you. On the day of your execution by fire, when you are bound to the cross, you will see that sign plainly before your eyes.’

Only then could Isabel feel relieved. Michael gently caressed her in his hands. Though it was physically impossible, Isabel could feel him stroking her

‘Now, go back, Isabel, and do not forget that I am always with you.’

With those words, Michael exhaled softly toward Isabel. Her body was enveloped in a gentle light and slowly glided through the air. Isabel was not afraid at all. It felt like a safe descent, as if sliding down a slide.

‘The Archangel is always with me. Always.’

Isabel closed her eyes and smiled. No, rather, she felt the sensation of herself smiling.

・・・・・

Bang, bang!

Isabel’s eyes snapped open. The familiar ceiling of her cell came into view. She turned her head. The guard was striking the bars with his usual club. Behind him stood two executioners dressed in black.

"Isabel, it is time."

Soon, the iron-barred door opened. Two executioners came in and dragged Isabel, who could barely keep herself upright, out of the cell. They placed her directly onto a wagon. She was seated in a corner. As the wagon set off, it left the Vatican and began heading toward the Grand Square.

The road to the Grand Square ran through the city. People were packed densely along both sides of the road, built for carriages and wagons. Those who hadn’t secured a good spot in the square had gathered to catch a glimpse of Isabel as she made her way toward it.

The moment they saw Isabel, they began jeering. All kinds of curses and lewd insults poured out. Trash, filth, and stones were thrown at her. With the ligaments in her arms torn, Isabel couldn’t defend herself. Her entire body became covered in garbage and filth, and blood flowed from various parts of her body.

As they neared the square, the shouts grew louder. It felt like a roar, as if a gladiator were appearing in the Colosseum.

Fortunately, the soldiers maintained strict control, so nothing else was thrown at her. But the jeers directed at her far surpassed what she had heard on the streets. Tens of thousands of people were packed into one place, cursing her in unison. The noise was deafening.

The wagon slowly made its way toward the centre of the square. Piles of firewood and the stake stood there. When the wagon stopped, the two executioners sitting on the driver’s bench climbed onto the wagon. They then dragged Isabel, covered in filth, trash, and blood, down.

Isabel was dragged to the execution platform by two men, each holding one of her arms. She was soon tightly bound to the stake, and then one of the soldiers standing near the firewood approached her.

The firewood was lit. A roar of excitement spread through the square.

Bound to the stake, Isabel looked down at the flames flickering at her toes. Her life as a human — it was over. She felt not a trace of regret. Even if she were given the chance to cast off all her sins and live again as a new person, she would turn it down.

She had not forgotten the dream from the previous night. She did not think of it as merely a dream, or as a brief illusion glimpsed just before death. She had truly met Archangel Michael. Heaven existed, and all that she was experiencing was something destined for her.

‘Then I have no choice but to accept it calmly.’

Isabel bit down hard on the pouch of opium in her mouth. A nauseating bitterness spread across her tongue. She swallowed it whole. Now she was ready to face the death that was coming.

The snapping flames consumed the firewood and gradually grew larger. Soon, the fire reached the hem of Isabel’s long skirt.

Isabel looked up at the sky. Ah, only one thing remained. If she could confirm the sign promised by Archangel Michael, her work in this life would be done

The flames clinging to the hem of her skirt began to singe Isabel’s skin. She twisted her body. The physical pain had begun. The fire was starting to slowly burn her.

It was then.

Tap, tap, tap.

The people who had cheered while watching the flames burn Isabel’s body looked up at the sky as drops fell on their heads.

Suddenly, dark clouds began to gather in the sky. People murmured in unrest. Until just a moment ago, the sun had been blazing in a clear sky… what kind of trick of fate was this?

The rain quickly thickened, soaking the people. They stood helpless, unsure of what to do. Those under the eaves were lucky enough to avoid the rain, but the others had no choice but to be drenched.

They hesitated. Getting wet was unpleasant, but they couldn’t bring themselves to leave the square. Sister Isabel’s execution by burning hadn’t even truly begun yet.

Isabel watched the flames that had been consuming her body begin to die down. In her opium-induced haze, she couldn’t tell whether this was a miracle or a disaster.

If the execution were cancelled like this, then at the next one, she would have no help from the opium and would have to die helplessly, tortured by the flames that burned her body.

Isabel thought to herself that if this was the sign Archangel Michael had spoken of, it was truly a cruel twist of fate.

The executioners decided, for the time being, to take Isabel down from the stake as the rain grew heavier. The firewood had all become soaked and could no longer be used. They approached the execution platform where Isabel was bound.

But then—

"Wh-what is that?!"

The people all looked up at the sky at once and screamed. From the distant sky, a flock of black birds was sweeping down toward the square. It was a terrifying sight, like one of the plagues described in the Old Testament.

In her fading consciousness, Isabel saw the flock of black birds approaching. They were advancing toward her with fierce intensity. Isabel watched them with a feeling of puzzlement.

Soon, they came close enough to be clearly seen with the naked eye. Isabel recognised them instantly. They were the very beings she had fought all her life.

"Th-they’re demons!”

The people in the square screamed. The hundreds of soldiers stationed around to maintain order were just as flustered. But they soon drew their swords.

The demons all flew toward Isabel at once and surrounded her, as if to protect her from the people. They breathed fire, fending off the soldiers who charged at them.

Isabel felt a certain premonition as she looked at the backs of the demons standing in layered rows before her. She felt like she knew who orchestrated all of this.

After a while, a man landed lightly on top of the pile of firewood.

"Lu… cifer?"

In her dimming consciousness, Isabel saw him: the king of the Underworld, with red hair and blue eyes.

"I came to pick you up."

"N-no... I..."

Without a word, he untied Isabel from the stake and held her in his arms. She looked at him through her fading vision.

"Where... are you taking me..."

"To the world I live in."

He pressed a gentle kiss to Isabel’s lips.

"Sleep until we arrive. It’s going to be a long journey."

Isabel looked at him through the unbearable pull of sleep. Seeing his beautiful face looking down at her, she suddenly had a thought.

‘Ah, so this is the sign.’

She then lost consciousness.

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