Sadness and fear

Agustín lay on the cold, cobblestone ground of the village square, his body battered and his spirit nearly broken. The remnants of the shattered silver cross glinted in the moonlight around him, stark reminders of his failure. Beside him, Father Gabriel lay unconscious, his breathing shallow and labored. The once bustling square now felt like a desolate battlefield, silent and eerie in the aftermath of the confrontation with Alejandro.

For a long moment, Agustín simply lay there, staring up at the night sky, the stars blurred by his tears. The weight of his defeat pressed down on him, a crushing sense of hopelessness that made it hard to breathe. He had failed to stop Alejandro, failed to protect his world, and now, it seemed, he had even failed to save Father Gabriel.

As he struggled to his feet, every movement sending waves of pain through his body, Agustín looked down at the priest. Father Gabriel had been a source of guidance and strength, a beacon of hope in this dark and terrifying ordeal. Seeing him so close to death twisted something deep inside Agustín, filling him with a profound sense of guilt and despair. He knelt beside the priest, his hands trembling as he checked for a pulse. It was faint but steady, a small mercy in the midst of the chaos.

Agustín gathered the priest in his arms and began to carry him toward the village clinic. Each step felt like a monumental effort, his legs threatening to give out beneath him. As he made his way through the square, he saw a group of villagers emerge from their homes, drawn by the sounds of the battle. Their faces were etched with fear and curiosity, but when they saw Agustín and Father Gabriel, their expressions turned to concern.

"Help me," Agustín called out, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. "Father Gabriel needs medical attention."

Several villagers rushed forward, gently taking Father Gabriel from Agustín's arms and carrying him to the clinic. Agustín followed, his steps unsteady but driven by a desperate need to ensure the priest's survival. Inside the clinic, the village doctor and a few nurses quickly got to work, tending to Father Gabriel's injuries.

Agustín collapsed into a chair, his own injuries now demanding attention. The doctor, a stern but kind-hearted woman named Dr. Ortiz, approached him and began to assess his wounds. She cleaned and bandaged the deep cuts and bruises that covered his body, her hands moving with practiced efficiency.

"You're lucky to be alive," Dr. Ortiz said, her tone both relieved and reproachful. "What happened out there?"

Agustín shook his head, unable to find the words. How could he explain the supernatural battle that had just taken place? Instead, he simply muttered, "I failed. Alejandro is still out there."

Dr. Ortiz placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Rest now. We'll take care of you. The village needs you strong and healthy."

Over the next few days, Agustín and Father Gabriel remained in the clinic, receiving the care they needed. The villagers took turns visiting them, bringing food, fresh linens, and words of encouragement. The support of the community was a balm to Agustín's wounded spirit, reminding him that he was not alone in this fight.

Father Gabriel's condition slowly improved, though he remained unconscious for several days. Agustín, despite his own injuries, spent much of his time at the priest's bedside, praying for his recovery. He found solace in the routine of tending to the priest, the simple acts of care grounding him in the midst of his turmoil.

As he healed physically, Agustín's mind churned with thoughts of their next steps. The silver cross had failed, that mean all was lost. He had been too focused on the physical battle, on trying to replicate Father Miguel's methods. But perhaps there was another way, a path he had not yet considered. Alejandro's transformation into a vengeful spirit was rooted in deep emotional wounds and a sense of injustice. To truly defeat him, Agustín realized, he would need to address the underlying cause of his uncle's rage.