THE BATTLE FOR A SAINTESS | PART THIRTEEN
The dark realm stretched endlessly, vast and oppressive.
The ground beneath it shifted slowly, glowing faintly like embers buried beneath thick layers of ash.
Every movement in the soil sent dull crimson light crawling through the cracks like veins of dying fire.
Flames slithered across the terrain like living serpents, coiling around towering shadowed figures.
They rose and sank into the black expanse as though the abyss itself exhaled them.
The atmosphere hung heavy, thick like smoke that refused to rise.
Silence ruled, yet the silence carried weight—a suffocating pressure filled with unseen whispers and ancient malice.
Figures gathered in a wide circle. Their forms twisted like smoke caught in a restless wind, yet their eyes burned with sharp, predatory intent.
Some stood tall like giants carved from shadow; others crouched low, their shapes constantly shifting as if they could not fully settle into form.
A ripple of darkness moved across the circle like a wave through black water, and Excel appeared among them.
Her once-regal posture remained, but now it carried submission. The pride that once adorned her presence had been replaced with quiet caution.
The throne rose from the ground like a black mountain of polished darkness. Faint crimson light reflected across its sharp edges.
Upon it sat Kaliqa—radiant in deceptive beauty, her form glowing with a chilling elegance that masked the abyss within her.
Her presence commanded silence. Even the flames seemed to recoil slightly from the authority surrounding her.
Her piercing gaze fixed on Excel. A faint tremor rolled through the dark ground as Kaliqa’s voice broke the suffocating stillness of the realm.
Kaliqa (cold):
"Excel."
The single word echoed through the abyss like a blade slicing through still water.
The surrounding demons stiffened slightly, their glowing eyes shifting toward Excel.
The ground beneath her feet pulsed faintly, and the flames around the circle leaned inward as though drawn to the unfolding confrontation.
Excel stepped forward quickly from the circle, her movements controlled but urgent.
The ember-lit ground flickered beneath her feet as she bowed her head deeply before the throne.
Her voice dropped, restrained and respectful, shaped carefully under pressure.
Excel (submissive):
"Yes, my queen."
The title hung in the air like a pledge of allegiance.
Around them, the shadowed figures watched in tense silence, some shifting restlessly as the atmosphere thickened.
The faint winds of the abyss stirred the dark flames, casting enormous distorted silhouettes across the ground.
Kaliqa rose slowly from the obsidian throne.
The movement alone seemed to press against the very air of the realm.
Darkness folded around her like a living cloak as she stepped forward, her presence growing heavier with each breath the realm took.
Her tone cut through the space—icy, absolute, leaving no room for hesitation.
Kaliqa (icily):
"It's time to eliminate Orean. No one wastes time in my kingdom."
The declaration struck the gathering like a hammer. Flames burst higher around the circle, and several shadowed figures lowered their heads in silent acknowledgment.
The name Orean lingered in the dark air like a challenge.
Above the realm, unseen winds trembled as though even the physical world felt the weight of the decree.
The realm reacted—barely perceptible, but alive—darkness rippling as she advanced another step.
Authority settled deeper into the space, thick and unavoidable.
Her gaze fixed forward, voice sharpening with finality as the command descended like a sealed decree.
Kaliqa (commanding):
"The clock is ticking. Do everything you can to destroy him tonight."
The command sent a ripple through the circle of demons. Some straightened with excitement, others shifted like predators sensing blood.
The ground beneath them glowed hotter for a moment, as though the realm itself welcomed the coming destruction.
Excel hesitated. Her fingers trembled slightly at her sides, barely visible beneath the dim glow of the burning ground.
A cold shiver crept through the air around her as the weight of Kaliqa’s gaze settled upon her shoulders—heavy, unblinking, impossible to ignore.
Excel’s words came out carefully shaped, as if she were placing each one on unstable ground.
Excel (carefully):
"Uhm… please, give me a little more time. I have a strategy—a sure way to bring him down."
The moment her words left her lips, the atmosphere turned colder. The flames dimmed slightly, as though the realm itself paused to hear Kaliqa’s response.
Several shadowed figures leaned forward, sensing danger in the hesitation.
Kaliqa’s eyes narrowed slowly. The beauty of her face remained untouched, but beneath it something ancient and ruthless stirred.
A faint tilt of her head followed, the stillness around her tightening, voice dropping into something dangerously calm.
Kaliqa (lethal):
"Then why did you not take action?"
The softness of her voice carried more threat than a roar. The demons around the circle froze completely.
Even the flames seemed to hold their breath, shrinking slightly as if unwilling to interfere with the tension tightening around Excel.
Excel swallowed hard. A faint tremor ran through her shoulders as the oppressive silence pressed inward from every direction, as though the air itself had turned against her.
Her gaze flickered once, tone snapping out quicker than her composure allowed.
Excel (quickly):
"Just a little more time."
The plea slipped into the air like a fragile thread. Several demons exchanged dark glances, their glowing eyes flickering with cruel anticipation.
The ground beneath Excel pulsed again, the embers glowing brighter beneath the ash. Before her last word fully faded into the thick darkness, a violent blur broke from the circle.
Stonerip lunged forward.
His massive form cut through the shadows like a storm tearing through smoke. A sharp crack exploded through the realm as his hand struck Excel across the face.
Excel was thrown sideways, her body crashing onto the ember-lit ground.
She clutched her cheek as she struggled to steady herself, the impact sending small sparks scattering across the dark floor.
Stonerip stepped forward abruptly, shoulders rigid, fury tightening his stance as the flames around him flared and twisted in response to his voice.
Stonerip (furious):
"How dare you?! Here, we obey without excuses!"
The roar echoed violently across the abyss. Flames shot upward in jagged bursts, and several demons howled in approval.
Excel remained on the ground, her head lowered, while the oppressive atmosphere thickened with humiliation and rage.
Excel slowly lowered her head even deeper, her cheek burning where the strike had landed.
The dim red glow from the ground illuminated the side of her face as she knelt silently before the throne.
Kaliqa stepped closer.
Her shadow stretched across the ground like a dark ocean, swallowing Excel’s smaller form completely.
With one graceful motion, Kaliqa lifted her hand. Immediately, the entire realm fell silent. Even Stonerip stepped back.
Her fingers remained raised, unmoving, and the stillness deepened—absolute, unquestionable—before her tone settled into the silence.
Kaliqa (final):
"You have four days. No excuses. No more talk."
The decree thundered through the dark kingdom like a sealed verdict.
Flames erupted violently around the throne, swirling into monstrous shapes that clawed at the air before dissolving back into shadow.
The demons bowed their heads in submission, and Excel remained frozen beneath Kaliqa’s shadow, the weight of the command pressing upon her spirit like chains.
Far above the suffocating abyss, the physical world remained calm.
Unaware. Unseen.
Yet beneath that peaceful silence, a dark countdown had begun.
The battle for a saintess had quietly been set into motion.
Night wind swept gently through the presidential residence. The tall gates stood still beneath the moonlight, and the tiled courtyard reflected the quiet glow of the night sky.
The city lights beyond the tall perimeter fence flickered like distant stars, and a slow breeze slipped through the half-open window, stirring the sheer curtains beside the carved wooden bed.
The compound outside rested in guarded silence; distant generators hummed faintly beyond the gates, and the soft rustle of garden trees moved like whispers through the dark.
Excel lay on her back, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
The bedside lamp cast a warm amber glow across the cream walls, tracing faint shadows along the framed portraits hanging neatly above her writing desk.
The ceiling fan turned lazily above her, slicing the air in steady rhythm.
She turned to her side and exhaled slowly. Then she pushed herself upright. Her bare feet touched the polished tile floor, cool beneath her skin.
For a moment she simply sat there, fingers interlocked over her stomach, staring at the closed door of her room as if weighing an invisible burden.
A quiet decision formed in her eyes.
She rose and walked across the room. The door opened with a soft creak into the softly lit corridor of the residence.
Dim wall lamps stretched gentle pools of golden light across the marble floor. Her footsteps echoed lightly as she approached the guest room where Orean stayed.
She paused outside the door, lifted her hand, and knocked gently.
Inside, a chair scraped softly against the floor. The door opened.
Orean stood there in a simple white shirt, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows. A small wooden table behind him held an open Bible and a glass of water.
The warm ceiling light above cast a calm glow over the room, reflecting softly off the polished tiles.
His brows lifted slightly as recognition settled on his face. The quiet corridor seemed to hold its breath. Orean’s voice broke the stillness with gentle warmth.
Orean (calmly):
"My Sister..."
The words settled softly into the room. Excel’s shoulders stiffened slightly at the familiar title, while the quiet breeze from the window lifted the corner of the Bible’s page behind Orean.
The lamp light flickered faintly as if acknowledging the tension between courtesy and irritation that suddenly stirred in the air.
Excel’s lips parted sharply, her tone cutting through the calm like a blade across still water.
Excel (irritated):
"Stop calling me sister. Call me Excel. I'm tired of 'my sister' every passing seconds."
The atmosphere shifted at once.
Orean blinked in mild surprise while the curtain behind Excel swayed gently from the night breeze.
The quiet holiness surrounding the open Bible seemed to absorb the sharpness of her words, and for a brief moment the room stood between awkwardness and grace.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Written by Agbemawle Atsu Norvishi
© All Rights Reserved. Shared freely to bless and inspire.
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