It was no longer Father James but the Tempter that stood. My doubts had been confirmed. From the horns sprouting out the sides of his head and the mist that hung overhead, figuring out its identity was a no-brainer.
To think I half-believed that it was indeed Father James.
To be honest, everything still feels like one really long but absurd fever dream.
Satan stood opposite me, chuckling to himself. His head was lowered, his eyes fixed on the ground, and he mumbled words that were too silent to decipher.
Then, finally, he lifted his head, revealing a calm but unnerving smile on his face. The sight reminded me of Father James's grin at my initiation rite—a picture that lingered rent-free in my mind, even against my wishes. Subconsciously, the memory caused me to shudder.
Next to my feet was the headless dove that he had flung at me. It rested in a puddle of its own blood, but it wasn't perfectly still.
It twitched.
The Devil pointed at the bird. "Eat it."
"....?"
At first, I was confused. Then utterly bamboozled. Satan's words were far from my expectations.
I had presumed he would accept defeat and end this whole 'adventure', but he completely disregarded the fact that I had seen through his ploys.
"No. I am NOT eating it." I felt the need to stress the word 'NOT', as I started failing to understand what was going through his mind.
A last-ditch effort?
"Do you want to die?" Satan asked.
"I shall not die but live to declare the works of the Lord in the land of the living."
First of all, this venture was pointless.
Satan had nothing to show me because he knew nothing in the first place. It was just a grand temptation masked under the facade of a revelation.
Undoubtedly, it was especially effective as it happened at a major phase of my life.
A phase that required me to make a decision: to willingly lay down my life for Christ or to shy away from my aspirations to protect myself.
Now that I think of it, it makes perfect sense for the Tempter to show up at such a time.
So…
So, what on earth was he saying now?
To eat the bird?
What sort of nonsense was that?
"It's a fruit," he said. "A fruit that—!"
"Shut up."
I had heard enough.
"I'm leaving now," I immediately added. "I don't know how to, but I will. I've had enough with your lies."
The Tree still intrigued me—in a disturbing way, even though I hated the fact. And I couldn't stop myself from wondering about the mysteries behind it.
I simply couldn't tell myself that even that was a sham. No, there was a depth to it—one that I failed to understand.
But, asking for the Devil's explanation would be pointless. Thanks to this experience, he has proven his title by living up to his name as Father of Lies, hence reinforcing the supposedly 'dogmatic' opinion that I had of him.
However, I couldn't let him catch a whiff of my curiosity, as I was one hundred percent certain that he would weaponise that against me.
After all, he had lost.
And he looked desperate.
"You should eat it…" he advised, "it would be a shame if you ended up like Matthew."
"Nothing is wrong with Matthew." I retorted, "he's perfectly fine, hale and hearty."
"Wrong. He's dying."
"You-!"
"Cancer is pretty nasty, I know."
"I rebuke you!!!"
Although my words were sharp, and they had the strength of an iron will, my heart was in distress.
Matthew did, in fact, suffer from cancer. Though he never mentioned whether it was terminal or not.
Not like I wanted to know.
In times like that, the truth appears scary and oblivion seems golden.
I was probably the only one, aside from Matthew, who knew of his condition. It was the reason that I felt worried when Matthew left.
He hid his ailment from everyone—especially the Force for a good reason: People with long-term illnesses were not allowed to become Crusaders, as the Cardinals believed that it would negatively impact their ability to function in the Force.
Back then, and now, Satan was actively channeling my fears and worries against me. As to why he tried so hard, I couldn't tell.
Maybe I'm just that important…
"I'm leaving at once!" I declared, waving my cross in the air. My frantic motion as I attempted to create a portal exposed my disquiet, and I was sure that he picked up on that.
But, oddly, he didn't push it any further.
"Fine," he declared, his tone mockful of my inability to hide my dismay.
"You can leave," said the Devil, "but you'll return very soon."
"....!"
"Sorry," Satan taunted, "You can't really escape. Not completely."
Before I could find meaning in his words, a crimson flash of light enveloped my view.
And my location changed.
...
Satan withheld a lot from me—I could tell. But sniffing around for information would mean playing into his hands again. So I could only ask…trustworthy people.
Father Azrael's eyes lingered on me, and we stared at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time.
It was then I realised.
I had returned to the very moment before the storm. Was it time travel? Was it all a sudden vision that occurred to me in the space of a second? I didn't know.
The melancholic atmosphere, the windy weather, the tall grass, and the sun that shone like it were trapped behind a foggy mirror—they were all gone.
The much-familiar air had returned—the comfortable, known one that brought a lovely sense of peace to my nerves.
Talking about nerves, it appears that I'm perfectly fine. I'm not even breaking a sweat despite the entire journey.
Was it a vision, after all?
I wished to ask Father Azrael, even speaking of everything concerning the things I saw without holding back, but there were more…..pressing issues at hand.
I forgot the question Father Azrael asked before the whole paranormal trip began.
Daniel sat by my side, where he was the first time, with his face turned, and his eyes centred on me.
His look was rather stern—and if I didn't hallucinate, judgmental.
"So..?" Father Azrael questioned. "Do you still wish to remain steadfast in the calling?"
"What calling?"
"...."
"....?"
Both Daniel and Father Azrael seemed surprised. Except Daniel had this almost inquisitive look on his face.
Then I realised.
"Oh! Yes! Yes I will…" I replied as quickly as I could, trying my best to restore the lost momentum. But it was already too late.
"Ain't very convincing." Father Azrael remarked. "Considering this is a very significant decision, I'll give you time to think about it."
"Oh…ok."
"Also meet me later this evening."
"Ok."
....
Meanwhile, at the same time, in a different place, the Tempter stood. It wasn't the place with the grass, nor was there any unusual 'Tree of Life' in the area.
The place was infact, a location on earth—Little Havanna, Miami, Florida, USA.
The Tempter's form was shrouded by the darkness of the night, but his silhouette could be outlined—ever so slightly, into a slender, impossibly humanoid shape. Only the scarlet horns and mist could be seen, boldly, under the blank, starless sky.
Satan was standing at the uppermost part of a skyscraper—the very top. And he observed the bustling city that shone with urban lights from heights above. The stillness and the bothersome quiet of the night did not stop these two-legged homosapiens from commuting here and there. Cars moved, leaving colourful streaks of lights. And there was a bus packed with loads of people that waded through the nearly congested road.
It was the characteristic scurrying of the street. A sight that neither pleased nor displeased him.
"Well that didn't go so well…" Satan said to himself as he watched, reminiscing of Joshua. "But it's only the start."
"In the meantime…."
Satan grinned.
"Let's go on a Rampage."