Chapter LV: Fear
Liz and Wyn leave the classroom as the bell rings, signaling the end of their classes for the day. The sun is beginning its slow descent, casting a golden hue over Ciudad Fernandina. They walk together towards the jeepney terminal, chatting about random things, but Liz is noticeably quieter than usual.
"You're thinking about something," Wyn points out as they climb into a jeepney.
Liz leans back and sighs. "Yeah, just a lot on my mind."
"Is it about the plan?"
"Partly," Liz admits. "But also about everything else."
Wyn doesn't press further, understanding that Liz will talk when she's ready. The ride is relatively short, and soon they part ways at the next stop.
Liz arrives home, greeted by the warm aroma of home-cooked food. Her grandmother smiles at her from the kitchen. "You're home early. How was school?"
"It was fine, Abuela," Liz replies, kissing her grandmother's cheek before heading to her room.
As soon as she lies down, exhaustion washes over her. She barely has time to think before sleep takes her.
Liz finds herself standing on an empty street. The sky above is a mixture of soft pink and deep violet, the in-between of dusk and night. She looks up and sees twelve doves perched on a telephone wire, their white feathers glowing softly against the dimming sky. They coo gently, a peaceful presence in the eerie silence of the dreamscape.
Then, a sudden gust of wind rushes past her, cold and foreboding. Out of nowhere, seven ravens swoop in, their dark forms cutting through the sky. They caw loudly, their beady eyes filled with malice as they land on the same wire, attempting to intimidate the doves.
The doves hesitate, ruffling their feathers anxiously before taking flight, leaving the telephone wire in the possession of the seven ravens. Liz watches, a sinking feeling settling in her chest.
Then, movement catches her eye. A small dove, much younger than the others, emerges from the telephone post, its tiny wings fluttering as it struggles to stay balanced. The raven in the center of the group notices it and lunges forward, beak open and ready to attack.
Before it can strike, a single dove returns. It is fearless, its wings beating strongly as it intercepts the raven, shielding the small dove. Despite being outnumbered, the lone dove fights back against the seven ravens, dodging their sharp beaks and swift claws. One by one, it manages to drive them away, forcing them to retreat into the darkening sky.
As the last raven disappears, the rest of the doves return, circling the victorious one in gratitude. The telephone wire is once again filled with the gentle coos of the doves. Liz feels a warmth in her chest, but before she can fully process the scene, the dream shifts.
Darkness engulfs her surroundings. Liz blinks, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. In front of her stands a statue, its presence both imposing and sacred. She steps closer, trying to make out its features, but the details remain obscured in the darkness.
A sudden growl echoes from the void behind her. The sound is deep, guttural, filled with malevolence. Liz freezes as a chilling sensation runs down her spine. Then, from the darkness, a hand emerges—its skin grayish-black, fingers elongated and clawed. It reaches toward her, its movement slow yet deliberate, as if savoring the moment.
Her heart pounds. Fear grips her as the hand inches closer. She wants to run, but her feet refuse to move. The darkness thickens around her, suffocating, closing in.
Liz wakes with a sharp gasp, drenched in sweat. Her breath comes in ragged bursts as she clutches her sheets, trying to steady herself. The images from her dreams remain vivid in her mind—the doves, the ravens, the statue, the monstrous hand.
What does it all mean?
As she sits up, wiping the sweat from her brow, a single thought lingers in her mind: something is coming.
Liz glances at the clock—11:58 PM. The room is dim, the air heavy with an unexplainable tension. She exhales, her breath shaky. Her body still feels the remnants of fear clinging to her skin from the dream she just had. But it's over now. Or so she thinks.
She turns away from the clock, pressing her palm against her chest to calm herself. The moment she looks forward again, a terrifying face looms inches away from her own. Hollow eyes, a twisted grin—it is beyond human. A scream gets caught in her throat as she jolts awake.
Her heart hammers wildly as she scrambles for the rosary on her bedside table. Fingers trembling, she clutches it tightly and begins to pray, her voice shaking at first but growing steadier with each word. The rhythmic recitation of the Holy Rosary soothes her, creating a barrier between her and the lingering darkness. When she finishes, a deep peace washes over her. Exhausted, she lies back down and drifts into another dream.
This time, she finds herself in Bennett's room. The scent of old books and the soft hum of an unseen melody fills the air. Standing before her is Bennett, his expression calm yet concerned.
"Liz?" he says gently, noticing her shaken state.
She runs to him, gripping his arms. "Bennett, my dreams… They've been terrifying. The doves, the ravens, the statue, the devilish hand—everything. And just now, I saw something… something horrifying."
Bennett's eyes darken with thought, but he remains steady. He pulls her into a comforting embrace. "Why are you afraid?" he asks softly.
Liz pulls back slightly, looking into his eyes. "Fear is natural. It's part of being human."
Bennett nods. "That is true. But if we fear something, isn't it that we fear a creation of God? God created everything, both the natural and the supernatural. But when we allow fear to consume us, we begin to doubt. And doubt is a crack in our faith." He holds her hands firmly. "We fear the evils of this world, yet we forget the Creator who made all things—except for evil itself. God's power reigns supreme. No darkness, no demon, no force of evil can ever surpass Him. Faith is not the absence of fear, Liz—it is the power to stand firm despite it. Fear makes us weak, but faith makes us invincible."
Liz's eyes brim with tears as she listens to him. His words strike deep, anchoring her soul in truth. She throws her arms around him. "Thank you, Bennett," she whispers. "I'll be stronger."
Bennett smiles and gently strokes her hair. "I don't know why you had those dreams, but I believe they are testing your readiness for the plan. Remember Psalm 46: 'God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore, we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea…'"
Liz breathes in deeply, absorbing the scripture's strength. "You're right. No matter what we face, God is with us."
Bennett nods. "And now, there's something I need to show you."
Before Liz can ask what he means, the items she has obtained suddenly appear before her—the century sword gleaming with a divine aura, the small flask of holy water, and the sacred palm oil. As she takes them in, a sinister presence fills the room.
A demon materializes from the shadows, its form distorted, its growl echoing like an unholy hymn. Liz freezes, her grip on the sword tightening.
"Don't hesitate," Bennett urges. "You have what you need."
Liz steadies herself. With a swift motion, she swings the sword. The blade slices through the demon, and it shrieks before vanishing into thin air.
Another figure lunges from behind, but Liz reacts instinctively, splashing the holy water over it. The creature disintegrates instantly, flickering out like a corrupted digital image.
Bennett grins. "You're ready."
Liz exhales, her heart racing. "What's the best way to combine these items?" she asks, still gripping the sword tightly.
Bennett's expression turns serious. "You already have them, Liz. If you learn to combine them effectively, they will become a force against darkness. Use them wisely."
Liz stares at the items in her hands, the realization settling in. This isn't just about fighting. It's about understanding the power behind these sacred objects.
As the items vanish, Liz turns back to Bennett and embraces him. His presence is a source of comfort and strength.
"We need to find you," she says with renewed determination. "We're running out of time."
Bennett gently wipes away a tear rolling down her cheek. "You will. You have a quarter of the days left, but I know you won't stop until you do."
Liz nods, her resolve hardening. "I promise."
They share a final kiss, their souls intertwined with hope and purpose.
Then, Liz wakes up.