“WOW...” Sonia whispered to herself.
The enclosed chapel was supposed to be vacant, but it was plain for anyone to see by the pained creaks of the bowing door and the crashes coming from inside that the situation was abnormal.
“I didn’t think he was the self-assertive type,” Chris appraised in an impressed voice from where he stood at Sonia’s side.
“He might be angry you’ve seen through him...”
“Why? Anyone could have if they thought to do a little research. It was easy to figure out he’s Father Ferns.”
“No, not him, but—” Just as Sonia was about to answer Chris’ question, BANG! The chapel doors flung open with a crash, followed by a mighty wind—or more like a small twister.
“EEK!”
“Duchess Sonia!”
The wind tunnel caught Sonia in the blink of an eye to sweep her inside. Chris grabbed onto Sonia as she was lifted by the wind and held her close while they were pulled into the chapel, but the wind dissipated the moment they crossed the doorway. Pulled high in the air by the twister, the two plunged to the ground when it dispersed. Chris protected Sonia from the fall but came out the worse for it.
“Did you get hurt, Duchess Sonia?” he asked.
“I’m fine, but what about you...?” Sonia looked at him with eyes drawn in concern.
“I’m fine! I’ve trained for this!” he said with a smile, to set her mind at ease.
Noting someone’s presence, Chris leapt to his feet with a gasp and stood in front of Sonia as if to defend her.
“Pamela!” Sonia yelled her friend’s name, the name of the young woman floating where the statue of the Holy Mother once stood.
“Get away from Lady Pamela!” Chris demanded.
“You heard him! Pamela has nothing to do with this!” Sonia shouted. Ferns continued smiling obscenely at the two, heedless of their cries.
“Leave her body,” Chris ordered as he lowered the sword he had brought strapped across his back.
Once Chris removed the sword’s cloth bindings to reveal the blade, Ferns’ smile faded. Made of platinum, the sword shone divinely without any light striking upon it, as if emanating the light itself.
“Keh...! I didn’t know you had it... And here I’ve spent so long trying to hunt it down so I could destroy the blasted thing...!”
“Ferns, this sword has been carefully stored at the Central Church all these years. You couldn’t see it because of this.” Chris held up the cloth that was used to wrap the sword: a dalmatic with cross embroidery.
“All of the previous Pope’s devotion flowed through this dalmatic. It served as a blindfold to keep you from seeing the sword!”
“This is outrageous! How dare His Holiness, a fellow servant of God, support the Clare’s villainy...! That previous Pope must not be forgiven for turning his back on the Lord!” Ferns bellowed. The news must have come as quite a shock, for Pamela’s body wobbled unsteadily in the air.
“SILENCE!” Chris shouted, his voice echoing throughout the vacant chapel. “Has it yet to sink in, Ferns?! Your soul is damned! You were unable to see the sword hidden by the sanctified garb of that previous Pope’s dalmatic because your eyes have been tainted by a demon!”
“Spare me your twisted views! This power was a gift from God Almighty! God gave me this power to punish the Clare line so that I might preside over their land! He told me as such!”
“Seeing as I was bestowed protective magic, no harm should come to you if I strike you with it.”
“Ugh...” Ferns groaned in frustration, lowering Pamela’s body to the ground.
“Aren’t you afraid of me? You’re scared of men with beards. Do you know why that is?” Chris prompted.
“SILENCE... Still your tongue!”
Of course, Chris had no intention of obeying his foe’s orders.
“Shall I tell you? It’s because you received those powers by swearing allegiance to the demon Baphomet!”
“L-LIES! Filthy lies! This power is proof that in death, the soul stands on par with God, even without a body!” Ferns protested.
Chris slowly inched toward the deeply shaken and staggering priest with the sword clutched in both hands.
“I’ve heard Baphomet challenged Michael to a battle eons ago and lost miserably. The battle was portrayed in a painting here in Clare Castle. It didn’t follow the current artistic trend of using dashing young men, but depicted bearded warriors fighting long and hard, never stopping to sleep or rest. You’re afraid of beards because you still vividly remember losing that battle!”
“That can’t be!” Ferns screamed. Pamela’s body convulsed as if being struck by a never-ending bolt of lightning.
Chris draped the dalmatic that had concealed the sword across his shoulders, as if he was donning armor for battle.
“It’s time you faced the facts! You’ve sold your soul to a demon! Now get out of Pamela’s body!” He thundered imposingly. Pointing the sword at Ferns, his body began to emit a faint light. The gentle, white light was—
—protective magic? Sonia had never seen divine protection so clearly before. Mesmerized, she was awestruck anew by his power as a Diamant.
Pamela’s arms dropped weakly to her sides, her head flinging back. Disheveled hair covered her face, making it impossible to read her expression.
It looked as though she had taken her last breath on her feet. Filled with the sinking sensation Ferns had passed to the other side and taken Pamela with him, Sonia slowly approached her friend’s body.
“Duchess Sonia, get back!” Chris shouted. He stopped Sonia from drawing closer to Pamela, but the moment he took his eyes off the lost sheep—SMACK! A piece of rubble came crashing down from the ceiling with the intensity of a catapult shot...right on Chris’s head!
“SIR CHRIS!”
A man’s shrill laughter echoed throughout the chapel. The jubilant cry, “I did it!” ringing in Sonia’s ears filled her with indignation, but she had to prioritize Chris. Rushing to Chris’ side, a shrill scream escaped her lips when she saw him pressing his hand against his forehead. Fresh blood trickled through the gaps between his large fingers.
This is my fault! Her face must have given her thoughts away, for Chris seemed to realize she blamed herself as he said, “I’m glad that didn’t hit you! This is nothing for me!”
He offered her a smile and tore off the bottom of the dalmatic draping from his shoulders.
“I’ll do it...” Sonia offered. Taking the scrap of dalmatic, Sonia wiped away the blood that ran clear into his eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault you were so badly wounded...!”
“Wounds to the head and face bleed worse than they actually are. This is nothing to worry about!” Chris assured her.
Sonia’s vision blurred, a well of tears on the verge of spilling over. Chris patted her head reassuringly while she fought to hold them back as she quickly wrapped the scrap of material around his head.
“Look out!” he suddenly yelled.
WHOOSH! The sound of something cutting through the air was followed by the sound of heavy bodies colliding. Those were the only nearby sounds Sonia could make out.
Chris had flung himself over her in the blink of an eye. Just as she realized the weight of his firm shoulders and strong arms were pressing down on her, it eased up. The darkness created by his body slowly gave way. Although it felt slow to Sonia, this probably happened in the span of a few seconds. THUD! His massive body collapsed onto the stone floor.
“...SIR CHRIS!” Sonia screamed. A piece of debris the size of an adult’s head tumbled beside them.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” The man who had taken over Pamela’s body laughed ecstatically on end. “You figured out who I am! I can’t allow you to live!”
“Sir Chris! Hang in there!” Sonia cried. Chris had fallen on his back, allowing her to brush his face.
He isn’t dead, is he?