Chapter 279

Sister Emilia stood alone in the stone chapel, her hands clutching the worn edges of her rosary. The room was cold, colder than it had been in years, as if the walls themselves were breathing in a slow, measured rhythm.

The stench of dampness and decay filled the air, mingling with the sharp scent of old incense. The candlelight, flickering weakly in the draught, cast long shadows that stretched unnaturally along the walls. It felt as if something were watching her, something just beyond the corner of her eye.

The priest had left. Father Mallory had excused himself earlier, his face pale and drawn, leaving her to finish what had begun. He had mumbled something about not being able to go on, something about his faith failing him.

Emilia didn't understand. She could feel it—the presence—pressing down on her, suffocating her. But she was strong, wasn't she? She had trained for this moment, had prepared herself for this battle against darkness.

The girl was still on the floor, bound by ropes, her body twitching as though possessed by something outside of her own control. Her eyes were wide open, but they were not hers anymore. Emilia had seen this before—the way the demon twisted its host, warping the body into something unrecognizable. The girl, once innocent and pure, now lay in a twisted heap of pain. It had started so innocently. A family in desperate need of help, a frightened mother, a quiet town with its long-forgotten secrets.

And now here they were.

Emilia set her rosary aside and approached the girl. Her heart beat faster, but she refused to let it show. She was a nun, after all. She had dedicated her life to this. This was her purpose, her calling. But something inside her was cracking. The longer she stared at the girl, the harder it was to remember why she had taken this path.

"Get out," Emilia whispered, her voice barely audible, but it felt like a command—a desperate plea. The words did nothing.

The demon inside the girl hissed, its voice a mix of guttural growls and eerie laughter. "You think you can save her? You think you can save yourself?" The voice was different, layered with something far older, far darker than any human voice could ever be. "Faith is weak. It always has been. Faith is a lie."

Emilia knelt beside the girl, her fingers trembling as she clutched the girl's hand. She could feel the coldness in her skin, the unnatural chill that radiated from her. The girl's fingers were stiff, unyielding. Emilia closed her eyes and muttered the prayers she had been taught, the words flowing from her mouth like an incantation. Each word felt like a hammer striking stone. They were supposed to protect her, weren't they? She had been told they would.

But the demon just laughed again, louder this time, like it was enjoying the show.

"You think you can expel me with your prayers? Pathetic. I've been here longer than you can imagine. Longer than your precious God ever cared to notice."

Emilia's breath caught in her throat. The words stung, but she pushed through. She had to push through. She could feel her knees shaking, the weight of doubt creeping into her mind. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. She had seen others succeed—why couldn't she? She had studied, she had prepared, she had believed.

But now, with every passing second, her belief wavered. She had seen the darkness in this world, the corruption, the death. She had seen what people did to each other. She had heard the screams, felt the weight of those lost souls, and wondered how anyone could believe that God had a hand in it.

"Leave her alone," she said again, though it felt more like a plea than a command.

The demon's laughter faded, replaced by something else. A low, guttural growl that seemed to vibrate through the air. The girl's body contorted violently, as if her very bones were being twisted out of place. Her back arched, her limbs snapped into unnatural angles, and her mouth opened wide, revealing teeth far too sharp for any human.

"She's mine," the demon hissed. "And you... you're nothing. You think your prayers matter? You think the power of your faith will stop me? Look at her. Look at the girl you failed."

Emilia stared at the girl, her heart breaking. She could see the remnants of the innocent child that once was, but it was fading. Slowly, the girl's features were replaced by something darker. The demon had her now. She could feel it. There was no going back.

The room seemed to grow colder still. The candles flickered out one by one, leaving only the pale, dying light of the moon to illuminate the scene. Emilia could feel something in the air, something thick, oppressive. She felt the demon's power pressing against her chest, like a physical force trying to crush her spirit.

For a moment, she thought about fleeing. She thought about running, about abandoning the girl to her fate, but she couldn't. She wouldn't. The vows she had taken, the promises she had made, they kept her there. She couldn't walk away.

But as she reached for the holy water at her side, her fingers trembling, she felt something inside her snap. The coldness was too much. The pressure in the room was too much. The demon was too much.

"You're weak," the demon's voice taunted, twisting inside her mind, wrapping around her thoughts. "You're just like all the others. You can't stop me. No one can."

Emilia's hand trembled as she held the vial of holy water. She raised it high and began to recite the exorcism prayers once more, her voice shaking, cracking under the weight of the demon's influence. Her own words sounded hollow to her ears now, like she was speaking in a language she didn't understand anymore. Nothing felt real. The holy water burned in her hand, and she felt the presence of the demon pressing against her thoughts.

"Look at yourself," the demon sneered. "You're not a nun anymore. You're just a broken woman who thinks she can fight darkness. You've already lost."

The girl's body twisted again, her back snapping with a sickening crack. Her eyes, those wide, terrified eyes, locked onto Emilia's with a look of pure malice. The girl opened her mouth wide, and from deep within her throat came a scream. But it wasn't just any scream. It was a scream of anguish, of terror, of something much deeper, much older than anything Emilia had ever known.

The scream filled the room, drowning out the prayers, drowning out the holy words. The air grew thick with something foul, something malignant. Emilia felt the darkness rushing toward her, filling every crevice of her mind. Her faith, once a steady rock, was now nothing more than dust. The demon had found her weakness.

She could feel herself breaking, piece by piece. The prayers no longer held any meaning. The water no longer burned with holy power. The girl was lost, and she was just a spectator in the tragedy that unfolded before her.

But it wasn't over. Not yet.

As Emilia stumbled backward, gasping for air, the girl's mouth stretched impossibly wide. The demon inside her was trying to consume the room, to consume Emilia's soul. The girl's eyes turned black, empty voids that seemed to pierce through her very being.

Then, Emilia felt it.

A pain so deep, so intense, that it shattered her in ways she couldn't describe. She collapsed to her knees, clutching her chest, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The demon had reached into her, found her weakness, and tore her apart from the inside.

In those final moments, Emilia understood. The faith she had built her entire life around was never enough. It couldn't save her. It couldn't stop the darkness. The demon had won, and there was nothing left to do but surrender.

The girl's body fell limp, lifeless. But the demon wasn't done. It had taken Emilia, too.

The chapel was silent now. Only the cold remained, and the faint smell of incense, long since gone out of place.