⚠️ ＷＡＲＮＩＮＧ ⚠️☣️ This chapter contains intense passages and descriptions 🌀that could be misinterpreted as insensitive ♿🧩.The author does not seek morbidity or shock 💭💀,but rather to portray a human vision — broken, yet sincere 🫧🩸.📚 Read calmly, with empathy and an open heart 🫀✨.🫠🪶 ＡＵＴＨＯＲ'Ｓ ＮＯＴＥ 🪶🫠Ｗｅ'ｒｅ ｂａｃｋ, ｇｕｙｓ! 🔥Ｗｅ'ｒｅ ｓｔｉｌｌ ａｌｉｖｅ!The Saint of Ice…
"I hope the translation keeps getting better for you guys."━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━We find ourselves in the meadows and harvest fields ofPontinha, where the wind gently swaysthe golden stalks.
April 21, 1964.
Helena and Galton walked wherever the Orb of Creationguided them, not knowing how near or farthe place they sought truly was.
Galton suddenly stopped."Listen carefully, I need to say this.But I don't know how you'll take it."
Helena froze, feeling the weight in his voice.
She was never good with serious moments;she preferred things direct, without drama.To ease the tension of silence, she lifted the cognacshe'd longed for, along with a piece of meat.
"Hey, listen, calm down.If you feel guilty for dragging meacross the continent, I forgive you.Just learn to treat ladies better… okay?"
However, when she looked at Galton, Helena realizedthe silence couldn't be broken; his gaze reflectedworry, as if she didn't truly understand the situation.
"I'm sorry.No, really. Forgive me for everything I put you through, Helena.Immortality… is a heavy burden."
Helena fell silent and her gaze drifted over the landscape.
"**This country seems very beautiful to me.It doesn't look anything like São Paulo or Rio de Janeiro."
"The view is gorgeous."
"What I don't understand is why we're going throughthe countryside instead of taking faster routes."
Galton cut her off abruptly:"Girl… you know what you have to do, don't you?"
"Yes, I know —" Helena said, frustrated."I have to stay with the Saint of Ice.You repeat it to me all the time; you're driving me mad.It's like you're my mother."
Galton continued:"It's time I told you something. If we find the Saintof Ice today, I'll have to leave you here today."
Helena frowned."What? What are you talking about?"
"You'll stay," he said, "with the rifle and everything.I'll only take the pistol, some bullets and food.You'll keep the money, the maps and this."
Galton showed two orbs: the Ice one and the Metal one."Wait," Helena said, frightened. "Are you going to leave me that?You know I can't handle it, right?"
"I know you can. If you already channel the divine force,it wouldn't make sense for you not to know how to use this.Just be careful and don't give it to anyone."
"It's simple," he explained. "You hold it in your palm;with the fingertip you aim it at the person's chest.The orb will enter and cling forever."
His voice trembled barely, like someone recalling something kept secret."Listen to me, Helena," he added, lowering his tone."Don't give it to the Saint of Ice yet.Only use it if their life is in danger."
Silence weighed between them for a moment.The wind moved the leaves, as if the spirits whispered.
"I'll go after the Saint of the Earth," Galton went on."I think they're farther than I thought: maybe in Turkey,or even beyond, on the other side of the continent."
Helena watched him, uncomprehending."And why do you decide to go so far right now?" she asked, hesitant.
"The orb… it points to the long path," he replied, almost in a sigh."There's no other choice."
Helena lowered her gaze, a knot tightening in her chest."Hey, calm down… don't make rash decisions."
Galton fell silent. In his eyes there was more than fear;it was guilt — perhaps resignation.
"Helena… someone's following us," he murmured.
The air froze. Not a bird, not an insect.Only the murmur of the field, as if the earth itself held its breath.
"What did you say?" she whispered.
"They're tracking us, Helena," he repeated, lower still."They're hunting the Saints.Before they came for you, the Orbs of Creationbegan to spin in strange ways…"
"In short… they started floating violently.All twenty-eight orbs rose, moving out of control.I was there, with the Cherub, and he told me:"
"Galton," declared the angel, "you must go immediatelyfor the Saint of Light."
"Someone is abducting the Saints," the angel went on."Those chosen by God for this age… they're being taken too.Only the Saint of Ice, the Saint of Light,and the Saint of Metal will remain."
"Who's taking them? Does it come from Heaven?" asked Galton.
The angel paused. His voice turned solemn, distant."That's none of your concern, Galton.But I assure you — it does not come from Heaven."
Helena placed a hand on her chest. Her mind was a whirlwind.
"So that was the reason?" she thought."Is that why he didn't take me to Vermont?""Or… were we already being followed since Brazil?"
Galton looked at her with worry, as if he could read her thoughts."That's why I chose to believe in you, girl.Let's go. We need to hurry."
"If we don't move now, they might even abduct them.Someone's hunting the Saints."
"The angel wouldn't say anything more… except that."
"But the Saints are gone," said Galton.
"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.
Galton pointed at the orbs."Look closely, Helena. Some still shine… others are gray,as if their light had gone out.That means that Saint no longer exists in this century."
Helena froze."Wait… then what happened to them? Were they killed?"
Galton looked away."I don't know…"
Helena didn't know what to say. As so many times before,she did what she knew best — softened the weight of the inevitable.
She walked up to him, stood by his side, and murmured:"It's okay. You know what… forget it all, alright?Don't worry. I'll take care of the Saint of Ice."
She held out the cognac."No, girl, I don't want it," Galton said at first.
"No, you do want it," Helena replied with a half-smile.
Galton looked at it, uncorked the bottle, and took a sip.He exhaled slowly, trying to catch his breath and his calm.
Helena watched him in silence, then smiled gently."Relax, okay? Drink a little more if you want.We'll reach the Saint of Ice.I'll watch over him while you go after the Saint of Earth."
Galton looked at her with a weary expression.
Helena insisted, almost as if speaking to herself:"Everything's going to be fine. Alright?"
"It might take me a year, girl… maybe two," replied Galton.Helena froze.
"What do you mean, a year or two? How far is it?"
"Traveling by sea is faster than by land," he explained calmly."Believe me, sometimes the sea is easier… there are no obstacles."
"Listen carefully, Helena: those orbs I gave you, keep them.Don't show them to anyone."
The seriousness returned to his face."If a year passes and I don't return… take the Saint of Iceand go back alone. If two years pass and I still haven't come back,I don't want my absence to put you both at risk. Understood?"
Helena lowered her head."Yes, I understand," she replied.
The wind blew again, sweeping away the last words,as if trying to erase their conversation.
They walked in silence for hours, until the scenery changed.In front of them stood a house.
It was surrounded by farmland, standing out for its shape.Not a mansion, but a large single-story estate,with a high, elegant roof. It carried the air of someone wealthy,but without ostentation.
"Well… the orb brought us here," said Galton."We'll go around the sides, Helena.I don't want anyone to know you're here."
Helena observed carefully."This house looks really beautiful."
"Come on, Helena," said Galton.
The house of the Saint of Ice stood on a gentle hill,surrounded by trees that created a blind spotbetween its windows and walls.
As they approached, the sun began to set,painting the fields in an icy glow.
"Come on, Helena," Galton repeated, lower this time."Let's see."
Galton stepped off the path and slipped among the trees.The ground was thick, covered with shrubs and wet branches.He crouched among the bushes to stay hidden.
He grabbed the rifle and examined it with annoyance.The scope was fogged, covered with droplets.
"Damn piece of junk, I can't see a thing," he growled.
"Weren't we not supposed to get closer?" whispered Helena.
"I have to see who the Saint of Ice is," he replied."Besides, this thing's got water inside."
Galton lowered the weapon with a sigh and set it on the ground.He stayed silent for a few seconds, staring at the house.
The wind shook the branches, and the orb shimmered, restless,as if calling him to go up.
"Alright," he murmured at last. "We'll just take a quick look."
They climbed up a steep slope until they stood before the house.The Orb of Creation glowed in Helena's palm, and its trembling light pointed directlytoward a window on the upper floor.
" There," said Galton. " It's in there."
They crawled carefully through the wet leavesuntil they reached a spot where they could seewithout being seen.
Inside the room, a child was sitting,trying to play a wooden flute.His fingers moved clumsily,but the sound that came out was sweet—almost heavenly.
He wore a tailored suit a bit too big for his body,dark loafers,and long hair that fell across his face.
Helena stared at him, fascinated." Wow... she's so pretty," she whispered softly,afraid that the sound of her voice might break the melody." Looks like an angel when she plays."
The child, cutting his note short, lifted his head.He turned slightly toward the window,as if he had heard them.The room's light reflected on his eyes...and then Galton noticed.
His pupils didn't follow anything.They were dull, still—like a bottomless lake.
" Shit," murmured Galton. " He's blind."
Helena gasped in shock.But before she could say anything,they heard a door open inside the house.
" Let's go!" said Galton, pulling her along.
They both slipped away among the trees,just as a voice entered the room.
" I'm back, young one," said the old woman tenderly.
From afar, Helena looked at Galton." He's blind... the boy is blind.And androgynous—God, he looks like a girl."
" Yeah," he said, lighting a cigarette with trembling hands." The Saint of Ice... it can't be."
Galton dropped to the damp ground, exhausted,his gaze lost on the horizon.It irritated him to think that a blind childhad been chosen for such a prophecy.
Helena, in silence, only thought:"From behind, I thought he was a girl... but seeing him,it was like witnessing God's own work carved into a man.""He's simply beautiful."
However, her thoughts were soon drowned outby Galton's complaints." Damn it, God... why do you always pick strange people?" he growled.
Helena, seeing him like that, stepped closerand touched his shoulder." Calm down, everything will be fine. The good thing is...at least he's pretty, right?"
Galton turned his head, arching a brow." Girl, I know perfectly well you're hungry.But doing that with a boy seems... awful. Weird."
" I wasn't talking about that!" Helena snapped, offended.
Galton snorted and muttered:" I know women.I know when they want something... and when they don't."
He stood up, brushing the dust off his coat." All right, Helena. We now know where the Saint of Ice is.Now I'm asking you to protect him."
Helena looked at him, a mix of resolve and sadness." I'll protect him. I'll wait for your return, I promise."
" One year, Helena. Just one year. If things go bad,run with him and place the orb."
" Divine invulnerability will guard him better than I could."
She lowered her gaze and smiled faintly." Well... it was fun. I haven't known you for long,but I have to admit—you're weird."
Galton nodded, not looking directly at her." Helena... forgive me."
" Why are you saying that?" she asked, puzzled.
He sighed, tired of himself." Forgive me for taking your life," he said quietly." For abducting you so violently,for dragging you into something neither of us asked for."
He looked down at the ground. His voice trembled—not from sadness, but from the exhaustionof pretending to be human.
"Forgive me also for still doing it," he went on."Because even though I know it's wrong,this is the only path I know."
"There's a plan greater than us, Helena...but this is the only way I know how to act."
He rubbed his face, as if trying to erase himself."I'm not making any sense, I know.It's just that... I don't know how to feel any other way."
Helena watched him in silence.One eyebrow raised, her body leaning slightly toward him,like someone trying to decipher a languageshe doesn't quite understand.
Her lips curved into a brief smile—more nervous than mocking."Well, that's fine," she said, almost singing."I forgive you for taking me from my home,telling me my mother is dead,keeping me in the jungle, throwing me into a river,undressing me, putting me in these awful clothes."
"For hanging me from a tree,hitting me more times than I can count,and almost killing me a couple of times."
She paused and took a deep breath."Oh, and for throwing me into the sea,making us stow away,putting me in danger on a cruisewhose name I don't even remember."
"And for taking away my three golden jewels:alcohol, weed, and sex."
"I forgive you. I'm not resentful."
Her smile faded slowly,like a candle at the end of its wick.
If all of this has to do with a prophecy, she thought,and if I truly was chosen... then I'll have faith.For that faith, I'll be brave—at least this time.
Galton looked at her in silence.His face seemed carved from ancient guilt,the kind that no longer hurts but still casts a shadow.
"Helena..." he finally said in a low voice."Maybe I shouldn't say this,but you're the bravest saint I've ever seen."
She let out a dry laugh."No, I'm just a stupid girl who likes to drink and smoke.I'm nobody special."
"It's alright, kid," he murmured,though the word kid weighed heavier than usual.
A moment passed. Helena lowered her gaze and whispered,"Do you think I'm ready for this?I can do it, but... staying here alone, just watching..."
Galton didn't answer right away.He just looked at her, and in that silencethere was something close to tenderness.
"I know you can do it, Helena," he said finally."You're a very strong girl."
She tugged at her coat a little,a small, almost childish gesture,as if trying to hold on to somethingshe didn't quite understand.
She didn't know if she sought comfort, affection,or simply permission to feel.
Galton watched her,and for an instant, he saw another figure.Zaziel.
The name pierced his mind like a gunshot.Then, without thinking, the urge to say goodbyecame in the shape of an embrace.
Helena didn't move; she simply let Galton come closer.His arms were clumsy, almost mechanical,but within that awkwardnessthere was something human, something fragile.
"Don't be foolish, Helena," he whispered against her hair."If things start to go wrong,run away with the Saint and the Ice.That's an order... and take care of yourself.I don't want anything bad to happen to you."
Helena went stiff.That warmth was new, uncomfortable, almost painful.She had felt it before,but never this close.
And instead of pulling away,she returned the embrace with force,with restrained anger.
"Thank you, Galton," she said through her teeth."I'll do a good job this time.I won't make any mistakes again."
"You haven't made any, kid," he replied."You never did."
In fact... you've done it splendidly.You're an extraordinary woman.
Helena said nothing.She only felt those words pierce inside her,as if, for the first time, someone recognizedthe pain in her silence, her jokes, her disguised strength.
Helena only thought:"Why do I feel so much sadness?It's not the time to cry...why do I feel so alone?"
The thought slipped through her like an echo,one that sought no answer,only a bit of relief.
They slowly let go of each other.Helena sat on the ground, grabbed the piece of meatand the cognac, and looked back.
Galton was watching her in silence.He touched her shoulder gently and added,"Goodbye, Helena. May God protect you."
After that, only the sound of footsteps was heard,first slow, then more distant,until the sound vanished among the trees.
Silence returned like a cold blanket.Helena remained still, staring into the void.
She remembered something he had told herin the jungle of Rio de Janeiro:"I choose to trust you this time... because it's my choice."
She had pretended to sleep that night,but she had heard him. Of course she had.
And now, with her throat tight, she thought:"I'll trust you too."
She turned, intending to say it out loud,but Galton was already gone.
Only the air remained, moving the leaves,as if the earth itself had swallowed him whole.
"Well," said Helena, with a half-smile,"I guess goodbyes just aren't my thing."
She brought the piece of meat to her mouth, chewing without hunger.As she chewed, she let the thought sink deep within her,as if every word were drowning inside her.
"I'm such an idiot… such a fool.If I ever felt sympathy for the man who kidnapped me,then yes, I must admit the old man was a bit strange.And me… even more so."
She sighed, leaned against a tree trunk, and murmured:"It's going to be so boring staying here."
The Ice Orb kept shining beside her,as if the world didn't knowthat Galton was already gone.
Helena stayed there, sitting, staring toward the house.Her face was a reflection of sadness,though without any clear expression.Only one thing stood out in her—the weight of a heart that was slowly being left alone.
She tried to convince herself that nothing was wrong,but she knew no one would returnto keep her company while she watched overthe Saint of Ice.
And that—more than the cold or the darkness—was what truly hurt.
It was already getting dark.The lights inside the houses began to turn on,one by one, as if the world went on without her.
And Helena, outside, witnessed only the cold.
She remembered then that once,she too had a house like that.It was small, wooden, full of imperfections,and smelled of dampness…but it was hers.
She fell silent,drinking the cognac slowly,trying to squeeze out the very last drop,as if inside it hidthe warmth the world had denied her.