Chapter 16
Father Francis Etrergo was a fairly tall man compared to the others in town. His hair was light brown, short, but soft. His eyes were brown as the acorns that hang off the forest trees surrounding Gravesfield. He was on the thin side, since he usually forgot to eat dinner, but those who knew him respected him as he was a man that practiced what he preached.
For the past nine years, Father Francis had devoted his life as the priest of the catholic church in the small town of Gravesfield. From the moment he first watched his uncle helping others who sought help, who had dedicated his own life to the service of God, Father Francis knew that he, too, wanted to follow in his footsteps. As a young boy in Gravesfield, Francis had enjoyed watching the selfless joy that radiated from his uncle as he aided those in need. Francis truly believed the world needed more people that cared, that were willing to listen, especially if people hoped the world to change for the better.
It was only two years ago that Father Francis was finally assigned to his hometown of Gravesfield, the very place where he had first felt the call of God, the need to help others. From the moment he arrived, he reveled in the chance to serve the people he had grown up with, to offer them guidance and comfort in their times of need. People from all ages would come to him, though, usually it was the older generation that would come, seeking for God's forgiveness for their past sins, or comfort for their last moments on Earth.
Through it all, Francis strove to be a compassionate listener, never judging the people who came to him for help, no matter how great or small their transgressions were. Never did he turn anyone away who had stepped foot into the house of God, though, he had to admit, he never thought he would have a demon-like creature of a man sitting on one of the benches, seeking his help.
At first, he sure thought he was in some sort of dream…
Or was God testing him at this moment?
He tried not to question if the situation he was in was real as he hurriedly made his way to his closet to retrieve a thick blanket. The creature felt like ice when he had placed a hand on the creature's back. Which didn't surprise him since the creature was bare foot and was only wearing sweatpants and a thin long sleeve shirt while it was November.
Father Francis emerged from his room to find himself face-to-face with two other nuns, Sister Luna and head nun Margaret, who had been staying for the past week for certain affairs.
"What's going on?" Sister Luna, a middle-aged woman, asked as she and Sister Margaret had found the side door of the building broken.
"We have a guest," Father Francis responded calmly.
Sister Margaret said nothing, eyeing him with her unyielding stare of a hawk, sharp and unblinking. Her skin was like the velvety night sky while Sister Luna's was like fresh cream, unblemished. Both had hair darker than his.
"We should call the authorities," Sister Luna said sternly, with a frown, especially when she saw the blanket in his hands. "They broke into the building. Who knows if they're under the influence of something and can be a threat to us."
"We're not doing that," Father Francis said, this time though in a hush voice. "He came to us, seeking help, and we cannot push away someone who needs us. Also… you should probably see for yourselves why we shouldn't get the authorities involved…"
Sister Luna gave him a confused look, while Sister Margaret maintained her stern expression, one that he had tried several times in the past few days to ease, but he imagined she may have had experienced a lifetime of hardships and challenges that prevented her from relaxing or she was just extremely strict about almost everything, particularly how the church should be run, so she was always so uptight…
He was curious how Sister Margaret was going to react when she lay eyes on their guest. Without another word to them, he led them down the darkened corridors of the church, their footsteps echoing off the cold stone walls. As they reached the main room, he motioned for them to be quiet, and they stepped forward into the large room.
What the two women saw made them stop dead in their tracks, staring in shock at a creature straight from what they had imagined would be from the pits of hell, with horns protruding from its head, and sharp clawed green hands looking like they could tear them apart effortlessly. He sat slumped on one of the front benches, glowing blue eyes looking down at the hardwood floor, looking exhausted. Sister Lilian, a hand on his back, offered him what comfort she could. Her olive skin contrasted from his pale one.
Margaret's face quickly pulled away from the shock and gathered her thoughts. She was the first to speak. "Who is he?" she asked, her voice steady.
"I'm not sure," Father Francis replied, his eyes fixed on the figure before them. "But I'm going to find out."
He approached the creature and gently draped the thick blanket over his shoulders. The creature lifted his head and gazed at the additional nuns in the room with a mixture of confusion and growing desperation, his eyes flickering with an otherworldly intensity.
"Do you… have a name, my son?" Father Francis decided to start with as he settled beside the creature.
Philip dropped his gaze to the floor, unsure if he should answer, trying to decide if coming into the building and seeking their help was the right move or not.
But what other choice did he have?
He had been growing tired throughout his time on Earth, and a strange ache in his chest had been spreading to the point that it was making things hard for him to focus on.
He blamed the witches and Luz for messing with his head, for trying to corrupt him.
"That's why he left you, cause he didn't want anything more to do with a monster like you!" Luz's words radiated in his head.
"Philip… Wittebane," the man finally murmured, his words barely audible, making Father's Francis look at him with confusion.
The name was… there was no way…
Father Francis had studied the mass hysteria that had plagued Gravesfield many years ago, when innocent people were accused of witchcraft and put to death, deaths that were pushed by no other than a minister who was later deemed incompetent.
Philip Wittebane was a name that Father Francis came across from certain articles published in the history books of Gravesfield, a renowned witch hunter who had supposedly journeyed to a world filled with magic to save his brother who had been whisked away by a witch; a good number of people knew of Philip Wittebane, especially since he had his own statue in town.
A tale of how Philip Wittebane vanished was one that Father Francis found interesting, but believed it was nothing more than a fanciful myth, a product of the hysteria that had gripped his hometown. He had never believed in the existence of a magical world, yet… here he was, face to face with a creature with razor-sharp claws, horns, and glowing blue eyes that claimed to be Philip Wittebane, who should have been dead centuries ago.
Father Francis' first thoughts were to believe the creature was lying, using Philip's name to deceive them, but the way Philip's dark circles sagged with exhaustion, and eyes that looked dull, even though they were glowing, pulled the man's heart again to help.
He decided for now, he would play along, to do his best to believe the creature was who he claimed to be.
"And you've been alive all this time?" Father Francis asked him. "How is that possible?"
Philip winced at the question, his gaze filled with shame and regret. He clutched the blanket tightly, as if seeking comfort from it.
"Father Francis," Sister Margaret said calmly, her eyes looking straight at the priest. "Do you know this man?" she asked based on the question he had just asked Philip.
"Not exactly," Father Francis replied. "I read about a Philip Wittebane from some old Gravesfield history books. He was one of the witch hunters from here. It was said that he had traveled to another world over 300 years ago, looking to save his older brother, who had been taken by a witch."
"But that's impossible…" Sister Lilian let out, looking at Philip. "That would make you… almost 400 years old?"
"I…" Philip struggled to speak, swallowing the emotions that were building in his throat. He didn't want to admit to the people of God what he had done to himself; on what extremes he had to take to fulfill his mission. Especially since he knew he had messed up big time with magic, to the point his body grew corrupted and unstable. But… he hoped they would probably understand that his actions were necessary in order to save humanity. "I did things… to myself… to keep myself alive…" he admitted, his voice low, quiet.
Father Francis had a bad feeling, already assuming what Philip had done might have been terrible based on the demon-like features.
"What… certain things…?" Father Francis asked, gently, doing his best not to make Philip feel comfortable to open up with anything.
Philip hesitated, unsure if he should say anything about his curse. He flicked his glowing eyes from the priest to the other nuns, who observed him. Only Father Francis and Sister Lilian looked at him with softness, while Sister Luna had a look of fear and Sister Margaret held one of judgment.
"I had to do it," Philip said, his tone slightly defensive, especially at the way Sister Margaret was looking at him. "I had to do it to fulfill my mission."
"What mission?" Father Francis asked, his forehead creasing with confusion.
"To save humanity," Philip proclaimed, his voice full of conviction. His eyes then bore into Father Francis before he continued. "From witches and demons."
For a moment, there was a silence that hung heavy in the air, before Lilian asked softly, her light brown eyes eying him, "Witches… and demons?"
Philip glanced away; his gaze fixed on a flickering candle across from him. He could feel the weight of their stares on him, waiting for him to explain. He knew he had to tell them a portion of his journey, of the Boiling Isles, of the disgusting creatures who resided there, the actions he had taken, the danger he was trying to prevent for humanity, to have them understand how important his mission was so they could help him. He needed their strength, blessing, and approval, which he desperately sought to relieve the ache in his chest and help him not feel so alone. He hoped they could get rid of the doubts that had started to grow in his head after being manipulated by Luz's disgusting friends.
Yes… he needed help so he could pick himself back up and finish what he had started, so, he opened his mouth and began to tell them when his brother was taken by a witch, ignoring the recent realization that he had earlier that his brother might have left with the witch on his own free will.
Philip recounted how he had been taken under the wing of the Minister and trained to become a formidable witch hunter, to keep the town safe from witches and demons. They were almost successful in keeping their town safe, by killing the majority of the witches who were in hiding, but they still had to get rid of the witch who had taken his brother, to keep humans from being condemned by God forever. Though the Minister had also said Caleb had to die, since he had strayed away from God's path too much, Philip wanted to save his brother instead. So, after many years of searching, he found a way to travel to the wicked world full of magic, where his brother had been taken to, where terrible creatures lived on a huge corpse. Philip had found witches and demons disguised as civilized beings there. He painted a picture of witches and demons masquerading as if they were people, which explained how they were able to blend well on Earth if they traveled there.
Everyone in the room was taking in his words as he spoke, unable to believe what they were hearing. A completely different world was out there. A few of them believed maybe Philip had traveled to hell, but the way Philip described the creatures living in homes and 'acting' civilized made a couple of them think maybe… this was a different dimension of some sort? But how was that possible? The idea of a different world like that was just in fictional stories, right?
The only one who wasn't dwelling too much at the possibilities of a different dimension was Sister Margaret, who simply listened to Philip's tale. She may be a woman of God, but she also kept her mind open for certain subjects that weren't brought up in the Bible.
No one dared to interrupt Philip as he spoke, especially when he got into how he got cursed.
Philip told them he had learned about symbols that let him use magic through the years he was stuck in the Boiling Isles and that combining them would produce a different sort of magical reaction.
"I thought maybe, if I added the glyphs on my body, I would be able to wield magic like the rest of them," he explained quietly. "I first used ink on one of my arms, and it seemed to work… I was able to conjure different elements at will… So, I decided to permanently mark myself," he waved to his arms, which of course they couldn't see any of them since they were covered with the green substance and the long sleeve shirt. "But… my body didn't react well when I did that…" Philip admitted with irritation at himself. "Yes, I could use magic at first just fine, but later I felt… as if I was starving, dying of thirst, and no matter what I ate or drank, I couldn't control the desperation that overcame me. I also felt I was losing my mind. I was falling apart." He shut his eyes hard, quietly remembering how badly he had panicked when he realized he had screwed up big time with carving the glyphs on himself. How he spent days curled up on the ground, screaming in agony at times when the hunger and desperation was too much to bear.
"Then… when I lost control… is when I found my brother…" he stopped talking for a moment, as he could hardly recall what had happened when he was losing himself to the mistake he had made. He remembered so much darkness, the hunger devouring him. He surely thought he was going to meet his end there, but then he felt a warm embrace. A familiar voice soothed him back from the darkness that was clinging to him.
'I'm sorry, Philip.' Philip had found Caleb whispering to him, tears falling on his cheeks as his arms strongly held Philip, who began to tremble. 'I'm sorry for leaving you. Don't worry, little brother, I'm here… We'll fix this. I promise we'll fix this…' Philip had quickly thrown his arms around Caleb, desperately wanting to hold on to him, to make sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him. He remembered he sobbed against his brother's shoulder, wanting to scream at him for letting the witch take him away. For leaving him alone for so many years… Philip had clung to his older brother, not wanting to let him go, terrified if he did, Caleb would once again disappear. He had desperately hoped he wasn't dreaming, afraid that he would wake up back in the Minister's house, back in such a suffocating terrible life. In that moment, after so many dreadful years, in his brother's embrace, Philip felt safe and happy.
Philip pulled away from the memory, realizing that a tear trailed down his cheek, which he quickly scrubbed away with his arm, before he continued to tell the others in the room how after finding his brother, he was led to the house Caleb had been staying at. It was at that moment Philip realized his brother was staying with a witch, and had slowly pulled out a knife, keeping it hidden behind his back, ready to strike when he needed to. But he had found himself shocked to find that the witch was impregnated by Caleb. His brother, who looked so happy, had been completely brainwashed by a witch.
It was at that moment Philip knew he had to free his brother from whatever magic spell he was under.
Later that night, Philip set the house on fire, to lure the witch out. He had tried stabbing her, but… his brother had fought him, protecting the witch, and without realizing it, his knife was deep in his brother's chest…
Philip stopped talking, lost in the memory of that fateful moment. He recalled the sight of his brother's lifeless body, the light gone from his eyes, and the pool of blood that had formed underneath him. The witch had cried over Caleb's body, but Philip had been consumed with shock and anger. His hands shook as he glared at the witch, who had dared to scream at him.
'Why?!' the witch had yelled in pure agony. 'He was your brother!'
"What else did you do…?" Sister Margaret finally spoke, with a voice as ice as a winter storm.
Philip looked up in confusion when he met her vicious stare as she took a step closer to him.
"Sister Margaret," Father Francis found his voice after being stunned at what Philip had just told them. It was a lot to take in, especially now that Philip admitted to killing his brother, after he had gone out looking for him to 'save' him… He felt Sister Margaret was ready to lash out at Philip, which he didn't think was a wise idea.
"Father Francis, please. I'm talking to Philip here," Sister Margaret said in a stern voice, her green eyes coldly gazing at the creature. "What else did you do?" she asked because she imagined there was so much more that took place after Philip killed his brother. After all, Philip had lived for almost four centuries…
Philip shifted his gaze back to the candle, ignoring how nauseous he was feeling more than ever before and how the ache in his chest grew worse.
He continued by telling them that his body once again would go through uncontrollable urges and once found himself devouring the essence of a palisman, the only thing that had provided him with some sense of control for a moment. But the magic of that palisman was like a double-edged sword… It had given him comfort for a while, but then the palisman's magic seemed to want out, and the only way to calm it down was to keep draining them, one after the other.
While he struggled with keeping his body in control, he remembered how the Minister wanted him to get rid of all witches, because they were a threat to human's souls. So, he realized he had to kill all witches and demons in the Boiling Isles somehow. During his time there, he heard about an ancient creature that might know how to help him with his mission. He did end up finding the ancient creature who told him the only way to make sure he could get rid of the magical world was to absorb so much magic from the magical creatures there and use that power to disintegrate the world.
To aid him, he used his brother's bones and created clones. However, the clones became corrupted just like his brother by the tainted land, and Philip had no choice but to get rid of them before creating them again and again. It took decades for Philip to slowly adapt to his situation, inventing the necessary devices he needed to control his magic better. It took him many attempts to figure out how to absorb the magic from the lifeforms there, and after so many trials and errors, he succeeded. He had executed his grand master plan during a solar eclipse and was so close to finishing his mission, but… a human girl who had arrived on the Boiling isles, who was corrupted by witches, had ruined everything…
After everything fell apart, and his body almost ended up destroyed, he had found himself back on Earth. He was currently staying with the human child, her mom, and some of the foul creatures the human girl considered as friends. Of course, he was trying to get back to the Boiling Isles so he could fulfill his mission, since he wasn't going to give up, but…
"Those witches, who act as if they are humans, have been slowly messing with my mind," Philip said with disgust in his voice. "They've been trying to manipulate me into believing they are not monsters, trying to corrupt me as they have done with the human girl and her mother, and…" Philip grabbed on to his head, teeth clenched hard. "I just don't know what to do… I'm losing control. I black out sometimes, and I can feel them messing with my thoughts… with my memories… They're trying to stop me from saving humanity, and I just need help… I need your blessing. I need the strength to keep pushing forward. I need God more than ever to finish this before it's too late…" he muttered before he looked at Father Francis who was staring at him, looking a little bit on the pale side.
"Do you… seriously believe God would be on your side on this?" Philip was confused as he turned to Sister Margaret as her voice sounded colder, with so much contempt. Philip said nothing, his blue glowing eyes staring at her before she continued. "Do you really believe God would have wanted you to kill your own brother?" she asked evenly. "To take the lives of thousands of people?"
Philip was taken aback by her words. Had she not been listening to everything he had just said? The ache in his chest grew worse and he couldn't help but feel irritated at her for seemingly getting mad for the deaths of disgusting vile creatures.
"Those people were witches and demons," Philip retorted with annoyance. "They were-"
"From what you have been telling us, it sounds like they were living beings from a different sort of dimension," the woman said sternly, cutting Philip off. "You traveled to their world to commit mass genocide."
Father Francis spoke before Philip had a chance to defend himself. "The ones who were with you the other day, those were witches?" Father Francis asked as he eyed Philp with no expression on his face. He recalled how the children had entered the church, looking around with a curious light in their eyes as they took in the interior design of the building. He remembered how the blond child had seemed to be comforting Philip after he had saved him from getting run over on the street. He witnessed two of the children holding on to Philip's arms as they helped him up to his feet before they led him away from the scene. "But… they were just children…" he trailed off.
Philip clenched his teeth, growing frustrated that Father Francis and Sister Margaret were taking things in the wrong way. Seemingly taking the side of the witches.
"Thou shalt not murder, Philip. If you are a man of God, you would remember the fifth of the ten commandments," Sister Margaret stated.
Philip was feeling a rage grip at his heart now as he glared at her.
"But those who I killed in the Boiling Isles were witches and demons," Philip retorted. "They were not human."
"But they're still living beings," Sister Margaret responded back, annoyed, unable to believe Philip could not understand the importance of preserving respect to other living beings.
"Why does it matter if these witches and demons are living beings? They used magic, they were sinful creatures," Philip said, annoyed. "Their existence was a threat to all humans."
"Philip, how were these witches and 'demons' a threat to us?" she asked him. "If these creatures were so dangerous as you claim they are, then how come they never invaded Earth and destroyed us?"
Philip fell silent at this, his mind racing for a response. "They didn't have a way to come to Earth," he responded. "I had made a portal, but I thought it got destroyed during the house fire."
"So, you managed to create a portal to Earth, yet no one else made one?" she asked. "Was it because they didn't know how to make one or because they didn't bother to make one?"
Philip said nothing, his mind growing blank there, but then he went with what the Minister would say in this situation. "God would want us to get rid of them," he said.
Sister Margaret frowned. "Do I really have to repeat myself again, Philip? Thou shalt not murder. Also, you said a witch took your brother. It seems to me that the witch was able to travel back and forth. So, couldn't they have brought an entire army against Earth? It is kind of strange that they only took your brother, and not the whole town of Gravesfield if they were really that dangerous," she said before continuing.
Philip clenched his teeth hard, hating every word that came out of her mouth, but he couldn't help but ask himself how come such things didn't cross his mind before.
She had a point…
'No, she doesn't…'
Philip did his best to ignore the dark voice, as he thought about the witches and demons in the Boiling Isles, how they were powerful compared to the humans due to their magic, yet they never seemed to have tried to go to Earth…
Other than of course the witch that took his brother…
"I also can't believe you decided to play God by cloning your brother," Sister Margaret scolded.
"I wasn't playing God," Philip argued, offended she would say such a thing.
"You created lives," Sister Margaret said. "Living copies of your brother. That's playing God and the worst part is you ended up killing them. How many clones did you make…?"
"They were mindless creatures with no souls," Philip sneered, not answering her question, ignoring the memory when he held a six-year-old Hunter close to his chest. Ignored the countless clones who cried and looked at him with complete horror-stricken faces before he took their lives.
"Are you one hundred percent sure they were mindless, Philip?" Sister Margaret asked. "You said you killed them cause they were corrupted by the Boiling Isles like your brother. In what way were they corrupted? Were they corrupted because they didn't want you killing the people in the Boiling Isles just as your brother was trying to stop you from killing the woman who carried his child? It seems to me they were trying to stop you from committing murder."
Gus' words from a memory played in Philip's head.
"Hunter is not some mindless machine," Gus said. "Yes, you made him, but he's a person with feelings and a conscience. And honestly, I don't get you, man. You dismiss Hunter as nothing but a brainless thing when he follows your orders or worries for your well-being. Yet, if he disobeys you and acts like a real person, you just want to get rid of him?"
"Or do you tell yourself they are mindless to justify killing them in cold blood?" Margaret stated.
Hunter's broken voice from days ago echoed in his mind when he was standing outside of Luz's home, as he had listened on the other side of the door.
"You guys must think I'm so stupid," Philip heard Hunter stutter. "I know I shouldn't feel like this for him, but I can't help myself. I want to stay mad at him, but I can't help but want him to love me as… a son... And sometimes I ask myself, if I'm just so desperate to be by his side cause he made me to be like that…" the boy's voice broke. "Please don't hate me for wanting him to love me…"
'Don't listen to her!' the dark voice snapped in his head. "Kill her!"
Philip's body trembled with anger as he rose from the bench, allowing the blanket to slip off his shoulders.
"What… is wrong with you…?" Philip's voice shook with anger boiling in the pit of his stomach. His shoulders also vibrated from the anger, which made Sister Lilian and Father Francis slowly pull away from him, as they were seeing things were taking a bad turn.
"Are you really seriously asking me that?" Sister Margaret scoffed, placing a hand on her chest. "Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?"
"Mother Superior!" Sister Luna exclaimed at Sister Margaret for not holding back from angering the creature further.
Philip's claws shook violently at her accusations as his mind jumped to the most logical conclusion he could come up with as to why the people in the room were attacking him.
"You are not men of God…" he let out in a shaky voice. "If you were… you wouldn't be defending those witches and demons as if they were people. You wouldn't be against what I've done and my mission to save humanity!" his face contorted as the green curse spread across his skin, his eyes flashing a furious blue. "I should have realized this place is corrupted by witches! That's why those disgusting witches were able to step foot here. That's why I was able to come in without burning as well!" he screamed, his cheeks splitting to reveal sharp, exposed teeth. Sister Lilian quickly backed away from Philip, her heart painfully racing, while Father Francis stared with wide eyes as the creature's transformation escalated.
Sister Luna watched in horror as the creature's face was completely encased with the green curse now. Blue orbs just glared at them within the black holes on his face. She pulled out her rosary, her eyes shut closed as she began to pray desperately for God to help them at this moment, while trying to fight the urge from running off like a coward.
"That's why everyone outside of these walls is tarnished as well! Witches have already corrupted you all!" She heard Philip yell at them with a monstrosity roar.
Sister Margaret was the only one in the room who didn't seem afraid of him as her gaze bore into him. If anything, she looked more annoyed than ever before.
"Blame the witches, blame the witches. That's what the people in Gravesfield did years ago to blame for every misfortune that befall to them instead of just accepting that life could just be unfair or to avoid accepting responsibility for their terrible actions," her voice was hard as steel, her words slicing through the air like a razor. "How very convenient for you all… to lay blame on someone else."
Philip fell silent at her words, frozen on the spot, his chest twisting painfully while her eyes locked on his.
"Blaming someone else always makes anyone feel better. And it helps you sleep at night to accuse someone of manipulating you when the guilt starts to eat away at you, doesn't it?" She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "I know that you feel guilty about what happened to your brother but blaming the witches won't make the pain and guilt go away. You came here looking for someone to tell you that what you have been doing is justified, to tell you haven't done anything wrong, but you know deep inside the truth, don't you? There was no good reason that your brother had to die. He seemed happy you said. He had a baby coming, but you took that life away from him. Your brother's death is on you. You're the one to blame for what happened to him, not the witches or the devil or anyone else. What happened to him was you messing up and instead of taking responsibility for it, you became a coward and ran off to kill more innocent people to further live under the lie that the Minister had fed you since it was less painful for you."
'Kill her…' The dark voice hissed in Philip's head.
"I'm sorry to burst your bubble, Philip. But if you truly believe in God, you would know he would never have wanted you to hunt down people and slaughter them in his name," Sister Margaret scolded. "What he wants you to do is face up to what you've done and make things right. He wants you to stop running away from the guilt, to stop burying it under a mountain of lies and excuses. God wouldn't have wanted you to become this monster that you are now. I'm sorry, Philip, but you're not a hero. You're a murderer."
"Heroes don't go killing people who haven't done anything wrong! You're evil, Belos. You try to make yourself seem like the good guy when in reality you just want to hide who you really are. That's why you killed your brother, cause he saw the real you!" Luz's words lashed at him after Margaret's.
'Kill her!'
"Shut up!" Philip finally snapped at her. He stomped towards Sister Margaret and grabbed her by the collar, yanking her to his face. "Stop talking, you corrupted witch!"
Sister Lilian gasped in worry; her legs frozen to even move. Sister Luna was just standing there in complete shock, hands gripping to her rosary as if her life depended on it. Father Francis, though, snapped from his own stunned state and was able to jump in and yank Sister Margaret from Philip's grasp somehow before he put himself between them.
"Philip, stop," Father Francis commanded in a stern and authoritative tone.
Philip's rage boiled over, and he backhanded the priest with a blow to the face. Father Francis fell to the ground hard.
"Father Francis!" Sister Lilian screamed, now finding the strength to rush over to his side and cradled his head.
Sister Margaret stood her ground, glaring at Philip with steely determination.
"Is hurting and killing all you know, Philip?" she demanded, her voice cold and cutting, gesturing to where Father Francis was struggling to sit up in pain. "Is that really what a man that is supposed to save us would do?"
'Kill her!'
"Stop talking!" Philip roared at her, the claws on his hands growing in size.
"You're a coward!" Sister Margaret shouted back now. "Instead of owning up to your mistakes that you have made, you keep pushing yourself further into this madness of yours. Forcing yourself to believe in the lies that have been fed to you, that you have fed to yourself just because you want to avoid the guilt that is eating you up. Look at you, Philip, look at what you've become due to everything you have done! People are dying and suffering because of you!"
Philip grabbed his head this time, shaking it violently as he struggled with a torrent of emotions, each one vying for dominance within him. Frustration boiled in his chest as he fought to keep himself from lashing out at Sister Margaret since he knew if he did, he would end up killing her. He could feel the anger building inside him, threatening to burst the fort like a damn breaking under pressure.
But there was something else there, too. Something he had been feeling so much recently. Fear… But why Fear? Was it the fear that Sister Margaret might be right? That he was wrong? That he had killed innocent people all along? No, he wouldn't have killed so many innocent people due to lies. He wouldn't have tried killing a whole race if he didn't think it was for the better good.
But memories from the past days started to invade his mind, memories of Camila and the witches slamming into him.
"Good children who are struggling with being away from home and miss their families and friends." Camila stern voice played in his head before another memory took over.
"But of course, you don't believe me, since you don't believe any witch is capable of doing good or being honest," Gus had said with frustration.
Gus' face vanished from Phillip and then he remembered how Amity and Willow had dried his clothes before Willow later tied his hair in a ponytail.
"Alright, enough," He growled, lips pulled back to reveal the sharp teeth. "I'm not some doll for you to toy with."
"Hey, we're only trying to help," Amity scoffed.
"I didn't request for your assistance," Belos stated coldly.
"What's going on here?" Hunter asked right away when he burst into the room with Gus in tow. The blond immediately shot daggers at the man.
"Oh, it's nothing," Willow assured the boy. "Just that, Mr. Grouchy pants here doesn't know how to say thank you when someone does something nice for him," she said, making Amity cover her own mouth as she tried to stifle her laughter.
The nickname had been harmless… Amity's giggle seemed playful now that he played the memory. Both girls were just teasing…
"You mentioned you learned about how this… car works… from the internet?" Philip was the one to break the ice, as he asked Gus, unable to resist his fascination with human technology.
Gus blinked up at him before eyes light up with excitement. "Yeah, it's kind of like what we have back home, only it's way cooler since it has so much information," he explained. "I don't know how humans came up with it, but it's amazing. People can upload information, videos, even books. It took so many people and technology to invent it and it took over several decades."
"Several decades?" Philip raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"Yeah, it's still 'new' I guess, but we for sure haven't made something that amazing back at home, which would be so cool to have. We only have our 'internet' to send messages and for our Penstagram."
"I think you can find all the books humans have ever invented on the internet," Amity said with a sigh of awe. "Though, I guess I still prefer going in person to the library, but still, it's cool there are endless books I can read if I want online."
"There are so many documentaries about many things there as well," Willow added with a smile. "And many movies as well."
"And instructional videos on how to do things!" Hunter chimed in, eager to share his enthusiasm
That moment at the bus, he felt… he felt a little bit of the same excitement that the children had when they talked about the internet. They seemed like they had something in common…
No…
Philip had to stop the memories from manipulating him. He had to try to block Sister's Margaret's words, to push away the doubts that were clawing into his mind, into his heart. But the harder he tried, the louder they became, the more the curse felt it was overwhelming him.
'Philip, you have to listen to me. Everything they told you is a lie,'
Trembling with emotion, Philip fought to regain control of himself.
'Please, Philip, I know it's hard to understand, but you have to believe me.'
Sister Margaret's accusations continued to ring in his ears.
'Trust me, please…'
He had to stop the voices. He couldn't breathe!
You know deep inside they're wrong!'
He mentally screamed for it all to stop!
'This isn't you! I know you!'
"Philip, calm down," Philip's eyes shot open to see Father Francis back on his feet, his face slowly swelling up from the strike he had endured. He stood again between him and Sister Margaret, his eyes held on a fierce yet calm determination. "Just take a few breaths, and calm down, please."
"That's it, breathe," Gus' voice from a memory ran in his head. "Listen to my voice and just breathe with me. Inhale, hold it for a few seconds, then exhale. Do it with me."
Philip had just realized he was heaving, having a hard time breathing as if his heart and lungs were getting crushed.
"Hey, it's okay, just take in deep long breaths."
Philip tried to listen to Gus' words from his memories as he tried taking deep breaths, while he saw the blood trickle down from the priest's mouth, how the two other nuns were frozen where they were, eyes blown wide with fear, while Sister Margaret still stood tall, her eyes meeting his gaze.
"Just, continue on your breathing, Philip."
"Philip, listen to me, please," Father Francis said gently, trying to take control of the situation, to calm the creature down. "I can see that you truly believe witches are evil and that you were just trying to save us. But you must understand that you've been misled. The Minister who told you to hunt down witches was lying to you. He didn't have your best interests at heart. He had no one's best interests at heart. He preyed on everyone's fears and anger to manipulate you all into doing his bidding."
"You're lying…" Philip let out, his voice choking as he spoke, still gasping for air as he slowly backed away from Father Francis.
"I know that you feel guilty about what happened to your brother. I know it hurts so badly but blaming the witches won't make the guilt go away. It won't make the pain go away." Father Francis stepped closer to Philip. "And it's not too late to change, Philip. You hear me? You don't have to keep running away from the truth because you think it's too late for you. You can change, you can find redemption. It won't be easy, but it is possible. We all make mistakes, Philip. It's what we do afterward that defines us; do you hear me? Don't believe the path you have been these past years is the only one for you. You don't have to keep hurting and killing others. You can be better."
Philip stared at him with wide eyes, hot tears slowly trailing down his cheeks. "I did it to help you all," he said as the ache in his chest constricted badly, fear gripping him tightly on his heart. "For the past centuries, I did it to save you all…"
"I know, Philip," Father Francis said, but this time his eyes had a shine to them, as if holding back tears. His voice was soft as he spoke to him now. "I know."
"The Minister, he said your souls were in danger. He said God wanted me to save you all. I had to get rid of the witches and demons. The Minister said they were evil. You must believe me," Philip now begged desperately.
"Jonathan later admitted Samuel was an arrogant evil man," Masha's words vibrated in his mind.
"I know, Philip."
Philip felt Father Francis' words were crushing his heart more.
"I… I didn't want to kill my brother," Philip stuttered out, his shoulders shaking, the green substance on his face shrinking away, exposing his flesh.
"I know you didn't."
Philip let out a choked sob as more tears kept streaming down his cheeks.
"I loved my brother," he let out. "I really loved him. All I wanted to do was to save him, to bring him back home. I didn't want to kill him. I didn't want to hurt him."
"I believe you."
"I… I…" Philip grabbed on to himself, the claws digging into his arms as he felt he was falling apart, as if the world was falling underneath his feet. "Please…" He choked out desperately. "Please tell me I've been doing good. That my mission is real, that those witches are evil. Please tell me I must keep pushing."
"I'm sorry, Philip," Father Francis whispered. "You know I can't…"
"Please, tell me to keep going. Please stop lying. I… I…" Philip looked up at anyone in the room, eyes pleading, hoping any of them would assure him he was doing what God wanted him to do. That he was saving humanity. He needed someone, at least, just one person, to agree with him. He didn't want to believe he had killed so many due to a lie, due to his own guilt and fears. But no one said anything.
Father Francis just continued to look at him now with a pained expression.
"Please, please, I was doing it for you all. You have to believe me. I didn't do it for my sake. I was doing it for you all," Philip cried sadly as his mind raced for comfort. He felt he was clinging on an edge of a cliff, his grip slipping away, and the only thing that was waiting for him was a big void of darkness ready to swallow him whole.
"I know, Philip," Father Francis said as he stepped closer to him, still looking at him with a mournful expression. "I know you believed you were doing the right thing."
The man's words made Philip's world fall apart. Everything he had done, all the torture he had inflicted on the people, the deaths he had caused… no… he had to continue to believe he was doing the right thing. That he still had to save humanity, but as his mind raced, he couldn't stop the memories flashing before his eyes. He couldn't stop remembering how at first when he inflicted pain to others, he had doubts and felt so guilty, especially when he had stabbed the first clone through the neck.
"Don't worry, you're still getting used to it. You will soon not be tricked by then… soon you won't feel a thing for those wretched beings one day," The Minister patted Philip's cheek with amusement.
And just like the Minister said, he had gotten used to things. He had taught himself not to let the pain of others bother him… Living for so long he had forgotten so many things, on how he had felt before with his mission, but now he was painfully remembering so much.
"You awful, terrible, foolish of a man is so completely brainwashed by other madmen," Camila was right, he was awful, terrible, foolish…
"And even if they were witches, killing them was wrong," Luz had stated to him coldly, the words hitting him hard. "You're nothing but a monster, Belos."
Philip collapsed on his knees. His clawed hands gripping his chest as it heaved with the weight of his guilt as it was unbearable. His heart felt it was splitting into two. The faces of all those he had killed continuously slammed into his mind.
Father Francis rushed over to him, placing a hand on his back, and trying to soothe him with words, but they fell on deaf ears. All Philip could hear were the screams of his victims. He tried to block them out, to shove away the guilt and the words from everyone that were tearing him apart, but it was no use.
Philip tried to believe he had been filled with lies by everyone recently, but the more he struggled, the more he understood as to why he was obsessed with his mission. He couldn't handle that his brother had abandoned him. He couldn't accept that he had killed his brother due to a mistake. Sister Margaret was right; he was a coward. All those years, he had pushed and pushed. Philip didn't want to believe he had endured and had committed so many terrible deeds. He couldn't bear the thought that he had killed his own brother due to a mistake, that he had killed so many innocent people.
Reality slammed into him, and the weight of his guilt felt suffocating. The walls of the church seemed to close in on him, as he struggled to breathe as tears streamed down his face.
"Cal-eb," he managed to let out, curling on the floor, his body convulsing into sobs. The face of his beloved brother, in their younger days, looking at him with a soft loving smile flashed in his mind. "Why… Why didn't I… listen to you? I should have believed you," he cried sadly, his head pressing against the wooden floor just when the horns on his head completely shrank away.
He wanted his brother back so badly right now. He wanted to apologize to Caleb for taking his life. Philip desperately wanted to go back in time and avoid everything he had done.
He wanted to scream until his throat went raw, but his lungs had trouble taking in the air he needed to breathe, the weight of his guilt was tearing him apart piece by agonizing piece.
He had believed he was saving everyone. He thought he was doing the right thing, but instead he had planned and manipulated, hurt, and killed, turning a deaf ear to those who begged for mercy, but the truth was staring back at him with cold, unfeeling eyes.
"The only one vile here is you!" Luz snapped at the man. "You're the real monster here, Belos. All you do is destroy anything you touch!"
As the tears burned his flesh, he finally realized Sister Margaret was right, that Luz was right… that he was not the hero he had believed himself to be… But instead… he was a monster, and not just any monster…
He had become the monster of the Boiling Isles.