Sacrificial Beginnings

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**Chapter 1**

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The hoots of owls and the chirping of grasshoppers created a symphony in the dark night. Slowly, inaudible chants from a seemingly abandoned house became more distinct. Candles, scattered haphazardly across a dimly lit room, revealed a stone altar in the center. A blood-drawn pentagram encircled the altar. Two figures clad in black stood at the head and foot of the altar—one holding a skull and a golden grail, the other an ancient knife—both reciting chants:

“Grande dio delle tenebre, eterno dio dell'inganno, ti preghiamo, ascolta la nostra preghiera.”

The chant echoed repeatedly. Beneath the stone altar lay the lifeless bodies of countless children. Suddenly, the chant ceased, and muffled cries broke the silence. One of the hooded figures approached a dark-haired child, staring directly into the child’s teary eyes.

“Jeremiah, I know you understand what is happening. Your father and I both love you with all our hearts, and I know you love us too, right?" she said.

Jeremiah couldn’t stop crying, his response stuck in his throat.

"Answer me," her voice quickly turned sharp as she slammed his head against the wall.

"Judith, you must not harm the vessel," her husband warned.

"I... I'm sorry," she smiled again. "You don’t hate me, do you?" she asked. "Your brothers and sisters didn’t hate me when we gave them up to God, so you shouldn’t, right? Right?”

“I... I don’t hate you,” he stammered.

She smiled, drawing him closer. "Your death will bring great happiness, Jeremiah," she said, helping him up and holding his small arm, leading him to the altar. "That’s my boy."

“I... I don’t want to die,” Jeremiah finally voiced, trying to break free from his mother’s grip. She struck him, sending him crashing into a table, blood slowly seeping from his hairline. Judith walked toward him, her hood falling off her head, revealing the hatred and anger in her eyes. She stomped on Jeremiah repeatedly.

“Judith, stop!” Charles ordered. “That’s enough.”

She grabbed Jeremiah by the hair. “Listen to me—you should be happy that you have the privilege of becoming God’s vessel. Your siblings died because they weren’t chosen, but you…” an evil grin crossed her face as she wiped the blood with her hands. “...might just be the one.”

She dragged him by the hair, leading him to the altar. “Start the ritual.”

Charles helped Jeremiah climb onto the altar, laying him face up. Judith tied his hands to the chains on the floor while her husband gagged his mouth.

Judith began chanting a different spell. “Oh dio delle tenebre e delle menzogne, ecco il nostro sacrificio, accettalo e dona la tua presenza a questo mondo.”

The candle flames flickered and then grew, quickly burning down the large candles. Ritual grails and artifacts hanging around the room shattered as debris fell from the aged structure. Judith continued the chant louder and more intensely. Jeremiah screamed, convulsing violently on the altar, his wrists dislocating from the chains. The pentagram slowly lit up, glowing red. Charles stepped into the pentagram, dagger in hand.

“Dalla morte di un discendente degli angeli, della tua stirpe che ti ha abbandonato, porta calamità sulle amate creazioni di Dio.”

“Now Charles, we couldn’t get this far with any of the children.”

“The Prince of Darkness is finally going to get..." 

The light from the pentagram vanished instantly. Judith and Charles stared at each other in shock as the altar exploded, throwing them in opposite directions.

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**23rd December, 09:43**

**Sancta Veritas, Southern Italia**

**Saint Agnes Basilica**

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A tall, slender man dressed in a dark blue button-down shirt and fitted trousers, with a white sash completing his uniform, walked casually down a beautifully decorated hallway with a cigar in his mouth. The hallway was adorned with stained glass motifs, each telling a story of the victory of angels, and a long red carpet stretched the length of the corridor. He knocked on a large wooden door, which was surprisingly light despite its size.

“Come in,” a feminine voice called from inside the room.

He flung the door open to reveal a standard office, a large table separating him from the ginger-haired woman across from him.

“No smoking here, Micah,” she quickly pointed out.

“Karlee, can't you just look away for once?” he teased, pausing to admire himself in front of a mirror, gently adjusting his short blonde hair. He winked at Karlee, his light blue eyes exuding confidence.

“So…” he sat down, throwing his legs on the table. Karlee took out a long steel bar from under her desk. He quickly retracted his legs.

“I still don’t understand how you got to be a master exorcist with your attitude,” he said.

“I could say the same about you,” she replied, tossing a small brown envelope at him. “Your assignment.”

“Really? I thought you called me so we could have some 'we' time,” he winked at her.

“You wish.”

“Vengeful spirit, huh?” he said, opening the envelope.

“Yes, there has been a recurrence of A-level spiritual entity threats in the area lately. You’re also tasked with finding the source of the dark spiritual energy.”

“Okay… so when I’m done, why don’t we go out? There’s a…”

“Not interested.”

“Buzzkill,” he pouted.

“Yeah, also, Inquisitorial Captain Ezra has assigned two of the most promising cadets to accompany you on this assignment.”

“Wait, what?”

“Jerome Michael and Kari Uriel will join you for field experience.”

“They haven’t even graduated yet.”

“Orders from above.”

“Orders from above, my ass.”

“If you don’t like it, why don’t you move up… you clearly have the ability to, and you’ve rejected the chance twi…”

“Time to go,” he interrupted, adjusting his uniform. “Wish me luck,” he said, smiling.

“You don’t need it.”

He smiled. “Catch ya later.”

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A black van pulled up in front of a desolate building. Micah got out of the vehicle, followed by a man in a black suit and glasses.

“Master Exorcist Micah, this is the location of the vengeful spirit you’ve been assigned to exorcise,” the man said.

“That’s not the problem, but the menacing dark spiritual energy here is suffocating,” Micah replied.

“As a priest, I’m not very good at sensing spiritual energy. My apologies.”

“Come on, have some self-confidence, Desmond,” Micah patted him on the back. “And I told you, drop the formality when we’re outside the church, old man.”

“My apologies.”

Micah rolled his eyes. “Time for work.” He took out a cigar and offered it to Desmond, who declined.

“Put up the…”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Two teenagers stepped out of the van, dressed in the same uniform as Micah but in white, without a sash.

“Oh yeah, forgot about you guys. Pay attention, and I might just put in a good word to the Inquisitorial Captain for you two. Just stay put.”

“That won’t be necessary. I have enough talent to get the Inquisitorial Captain's attention. If you don’t let me come with you, you won’t get anything from me,” Jerome said, leaning against the black van, his amber-colored eyes locking onto Micah’s.

Jerome had a powerful aura, a muscular frame, brown skin, and short curly ginger-colored hair. His ear piercings added to his intense presence.

“I don’t want you doing anything. That’s fine by me.”

“Kari?”

“Me?... I’m fine, carry on,” she said softly.

Kari was timid and petite, the direct opposite of Jerome. She had long dyed pink hair styled in two ponytails, which fell over her fair exposed skin.

Micah smiled. “I’ll be back soon. Keep your eyes peeled. Desmond, the barrier.”

“Right away, sir.”

Desmond pulled out a rosary and began his prayers:

“Padre nostro, che sei nei cieli, santificato sia il tuo nome, iniziamo l'esorcismo nel nome del Padre, del Figlio e dello Spirito Santo, amen.”

A dark barrier enveloped the building as Micah casually walked in before it closed.

Micah took a long drag from his cigar. “I don’t have all day. Come out.”

An ethereal, disfigured figure rose from the ground, its bloodstained clothes—or what remained of them—hanging in tatters. Its jaw hung broken and loose, and it let out a violent screech.

“Alright, I hear y…”

Micah rolled away just in time to avoid a punch aimed at his head. “You sure are quick.”

It lunged at Micah, sending another jab. He parried the punch and countered, sending it back a few steps. It charged a black energy beam from its mouth, firing it at Micah. Micah dodged the blast and dashed toward the spirit. His punch was parried, leaving him wide open. The spirit’s punch connected with his chin, sending Micah flying.

“You’re tough too. How much are you tied to this world to hold this much hate?”

It screeched at Micah, perhaps trying to respond.

“Sorry, I don’t speak spirit.”

A golden aura began

 to emanate from Micah. “Time to take this seriously.”

The aura slowly transformed into lightning. “Ramiel.”

The sound of descending lightning shook the ground. The smoke cleared, revealing Micah covered in lightning. He dashed toward the spirit, punching a hole through its chest. The spirit slowly disintegrated into dust as the barrier retracted.

“It’s over,” Desmond said as Micah walked out, waving at them.

A chill ran through everyone’s spine. Their attention turned toward the silhouette of a child across from them—a child with the malevolent energy to make the strongest tremble. A child with the malevolence of the fallen Lightbearer.