THE BATTLE FOR A SAINTESS | PART SIX
Three months passed.
Excel’s spacious house remained orderly, quiet, and peaceful, painted in calm earth tones, with wide windows that allowed fresh air to drift in from the compound beyond the walls.
The tiled floors stayed spotless, reflecting the pale glow of morning.
Morning light spilled across the living room, sliding over the polished surfaces and illuminating the framed scriptures hanging carefully on the walls.
Outside in the compound, the faint sound of sweeping bristles moved gently across the tiles.
The young lady had risen early again.
Her movements were soft and disciplined as she swept the compound tiles, arranged fresh flowers in small vases, prepared breakfast in the kitchen, and moved through the house with quiet reverence.
Sometimes a gentle worship melody escaped her lips, a soft hum that blended with the morning breeze.
She appeared humble. Obedient. Respectful.
From the hallway, Excel often paused quietly, observing her. Trust began forming in small, quiet moments.
Affection followed slowly, almost unnoticed.
Many mornings found them seated together at the small round dining table beside the kitchen window.
Warm sunlight filtered through the curtains while the scent of tea and fresh bread filled the room.
Sometimes they laughed. Sometimes they spoke about the Word of God.
And often, the young lady insisted on leading prayers before meals and guiding their morning devotion.
A soft breeze brushed the curtains as she gently folded her hands on the table.
Her eyes lifted, bright with quiet excitement, and a small, hopeful breath slipped from her lips before her voice followed—light, eager, and full of sincerity.
Young Lady (earnest):
"Let me pray today, ma’am. I want to grow."
The words settled warmly across the table as sunlight glowing on the scriptures hanging on the wall.
The scent of food rising gently from the table, and an unseen stillness resting over the house as Excel nodded faintly, pleased with what appeared to be spiritual hunger growing in the young lady.
Days continued rolling forward.
Gradually, something subtle shifted.
The rhythm of the house remained peaceful on the outside. But deep within Excel’s personal routine, something sacred began to loosen.
One early morning passed without Excel waking before dawn to pray in her study room.
The Bible that once rested open on her bedside table now remained closed on some mornings.
At first, she barely noticed.
Another evening came when she felt too tired to kneel and pray. Then another evening followed.
The house still looked holy. The routine still looked righteous. But the altar inside her heart began to dim slowly, like a flame quietly losing air.
Night eventually arrived one evening beneath a curtain of steady rain.
Raindrops tapped gently against the bedroom windows while distant thunder rolled faintly across the sky. The house remained dim, lit only by the soft yellow glow of a bedside lamp.
Excel lay awake staring at the ceiling. Her chest felt unusually heavy. A strange emptiness pressed quietly inside her spirit.
The hunger for God that once burned so fiercely inside her now felt distant—like a memory fading beyond reach.
The rain continued whispering against the windows.
In the next room, the young lady knelt beside her bed. Her eyes were closed. Her posture looked prayerful. But her expression had changed.
The meek softness that once lived on her face had vanished. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, her lips curved into a faint smile.
Weeks later.
The afternoon sun glowed warmly outside the compound walls, but inside the living room something felt different.
The air was cold. Unnaturally cold.
The curtains hung still beside the wide windows, yet a quiet chill crept across the room.
Excel sat on the sofa, leaning slightly forward. Her strength felt drained. Her body carried a strange weakness she could not explain.
Across the room, the young lady sat on the other end of the sofa, the Bible opened on her lap. Her posture was calm. Still. Watching.
The silence between them stretched. Her eyes darkened slowly.
The air seemed to thicken around her. A faint shadow passed across the floor as she lifted her right hand slowly.
Around her fingers, something unnatural began to form. A dark shimmer. Thin like rising smoke. Sharp like the head of an arrow forming from shadow.
The room seemed to grow quieter. Even the breeze outside the windows stilled.
Without warning, her arm thrust forward. The invisible arrow launched from her hand. It moved with terrifying speed—silent, swift, burning with unseen force.
The dark spiritual weapon struck Excel directly in the chest. Excel’s body jerked violently. Her breath snapped short in her throat.
For a split second, no sound came—then a fractured gasp tore free, raw and uncontrollable.
Excel (gasping):
"Ah—!"
The force of the unseen strike rippled through her body like lightning tearing through a tree. The air inside the living room trembled as though the unseen realm had just been pierced.
The young lady remained seated, her expression chillingly calm while the shadows in the room seemed to deepen.
Outside the compound, the afternoon wind stirred faintly, yet inside the house a heavy dark spiritual stillness settled over everything.
Excel’s muscles stiffened as though a current had seized her spine. Her fingers dug into the edge of the sofa, knuckles paling.
A sharp, uneven breath caught in her throat—then her voice broke through, fractured and barely holding together.
Excel (weakly):
"Wh… what… is… happening…?"
The words barely escaped her lips as heat suddenly exploded through her chest, spreading violently through her spirit like fire forced into sacred ground.
The room felt hollow, as though something invisible had just been disturbed.
The young lady’s gaze remained fixed, unblinking, while a strange pressure pressed down upon the atmosphere—as though unseen watchers had gathered.
Excel’s mouth opened wider as she tried to cry out. Her breath caught sharply in her throat. A faint, broken whisper slipped through, fragile and incomplete.
Excel (choking):
"Jes…"
The name struggled to form in the suffocating silence. The living room seemed to hold its breath as the invisible battle raged beyond human sight.
The sacred presence seemed to tremble—as if something holy was being violently displaced.
The room suddenly felt empty. Hollow. Like a sanctuary abandoned.
Silence followed.
The young lady slowly lowered her hand.
The cold air lingered.
The rain clouds gathered again outside the compound walls, casting long shadows through the windows as the house stood quiet—but the spiritual atmosphere had changed.
Something pure had been wounded.
Evening settled over the house days later.
The fading light of dusk slipped through the window panes, touching the cream-colored walls with long shadows that leaned and stretched across the quiet room.
The ceiling bulb flickered faintly, its glow weakening, leaving the space dim and heavy with stillness.
In the center of the room stood the young lady. She was no longer trembling, no longer meek.
Her posture had changed—shoulders steady, chin lifted, an unfamiliar firmness anchoring her presence as though something unseen now stood within her.
From the narrow hallway, soft footsteps approached.
The faint rustle of fabric brushed the silence as Excel stepped into the room, adjusting the sleeve of her blouse with calm composure, as though nothing unusual had happened within these walls.
The air thickened slightly.
The young lady slowly lifted her chin higher, her lips curling faintly as if tasting a new confidence.
The dim light caught the strange calm in her eyes as her voice slid into the stillness of the room.
Young Lady (chilling):
“Haha! Excel, do not be afraid.”
The sound of her laughter crawled through the dim room like a cold wind slipping beneath a closed door.
Excel’s body stiffened where she stood. Her widened eyes searched the young lady’s face as unease crept across her chest.
The ceiling light hummed faintly above them while the air in the room felt suddenly heavier, as if the unseen world had leaned closer to watch.
For a brief and horrifying instant, the young lady’s eyes darkened beyond natural depth.
What had once been normal human eyes sank into a depth that looked endless—hollow, ancient, and terrifying.
Her face began to twist. At first it was subtle—a slight stretching at the corners of her mouth. Then it became violent.
Her features warped unnaturally, as if invisible hands were pulling at her skin from different directions.
Her jaw shifted with a disturbing crack. The bones beneath her cheeks seemed to rearrange themselves.
Her form flickered between shapes. For a brief, horrifying moment, the young lady’s appearance split between human and something monstrous.
Then the transformation completed. Before Excel stood something far more dreadful.
The body remained that of the young lady, but the presence had changed completely.
A dark crown now rested upon her head, as though formed from shadows themselves.
Her face carried a terrifying ugliness that seemed to defy natural form—twisted, dreadful, and ancient with evil.
Excel froze completely. Her feet refused to move. The small movement of her sleeve fell still against her arm.
Her eyes widened as terror surged through her chest, her heartbeat pounding loudly in her ears.
The evening air around her suddenly felt colder, as if the warmth of the day had been stolen by the darkness standing before her.
From the quiet center of the room, the young lady took a slow step forward. The faint scent of something unnatural drifted into the air, subtle yet suffocating, like smoke that had no fire.
Her tone rose again, this time deeper, steady, and crowned with an authority that did not belong to the earth.
Kaliqa (commanding):
“I am… Kaliqa! The queen of the dark kingdom.”
The declaration did not echo against the walls; it settled in the room like thick smoke sinking into every corner.
The dim bulb above flickered again as the silence deepened, and the atmosphere in the room shifted with a presence that carried the cold weight of another realm.
Excel attempted to speak again, but the words remained trapped behind fear and confusion. An invisible pressure seemed to tighten around her mind like unseen chains.
Time began to move differently after that night.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Written by Agbemawle Atsu Norvishi
© All Rights Reserved. Shared freely to bless and inspire.
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