THE BATTLE FOR A SAINTESS | PART SEVENTEEN
Only the bedside lamp continued to glow with a soft, unstable flicker, as though even the light itself was unsettled by what had just unfolded.
Excel lay on the bed, breathing heavily. Beads of sweat shone across her forehead, tracing slow paths down her skin.
Her silk nightwear stuck lightly to her body, as though she had been caught in an unseen wrestle too violent for human eyes.
Orean stepped closer to the bed, his posture firm but alert. His eyes lingered on her with concern, his chest rising slowly.
His voice cut gently through the stillness, breaking the thick silence that filled the bedroom.
Orean (concerned):
“Please, what happened?”
The soft lamp cast wavering shadows across the bedroom walls while the air conditioner hummed quietly in the corner.
The atmosphere in the room felt strangely disturbed, as if an unseen struggle had just passed through moments earlier.
Orean stood near the bed while the quiet spiritual tension hovered faintly between them.
Suddenly, Excel reached out abruptly and grabbed his wrist.
But the moment her skin touched him, she flinched violently as though burned by invisible heat no human flame could produce.
A brief flicker of discomfort crossed her face. Her fingers recoiled quickly.
She released him and shifted slightly away, masking the moment with a trembling breath.
A subtle tremor passed through her shoulders before she forced herself still.
Slowly, she wiped the sweat from her forehead and adjusted the blanket around her body, as if trying to restore normality.
Then, drawing a long, controlled breath, she lifted her gaze toward him.
Her voice came out uneven, fragile, as though carrying something she barely understood herself.
Excel (uneven):
“I… I just had a terrible dream.”
The air conditioner continued its quiet hum while the bedside lamp illuminated the beads of sweat still lingering on her skin.
Orean watched her carefully, sensing something unsettled beneath the surface of her explanation while the unseen realm remained eerily attentive.
Excel slowly pushed herself upright on the bed, brushing damp strands of hair away from her face. Her breathing steadied slightly, but her tone carried a tremor that refused to disappear.
Excel (trembling):
“Two evil spirits appeared to me.”
The room felt colder suddenly, as though the mention of unseen beings stirred the air itself.
Shadows along the walls stretched quietly beneath the lamp light while Orean listened without interrupting, his spirit silently measuring every word.
Excel swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the edge of the bedsheet before she continued.
Excel (measured):
“They warned me… to stay away from you. And cancel every plan of marriage between us.”
The ticking clock on the wall continued counting the seconds while the air conditioner whispered through the still room.
Orean’s eyes narrowed slightly as the claim settled into the atmosphere, and somewhere deep within the spiritual realm the quiet tension thickened.
Excel raised her chin, as though remembering the boldness she had shown. Her voice carried a hint of pride.
Excel (boldly):
“I told them boldly, ‘What God hath joined together, let not man put asunder.’”
The words echoed faintly in the quiet room, carrying the familiar authority of Scripture.
Yet beneath the calm atmosphere, the unseen spiritual currents continued moving like deep water beneath a still surface.
She swallowed again, her fingers clutching the bedsheet, knuckles tightening. Her eyes flickered, fear surfacing despite her effort to stay composed.
Her lips trembled slightly, voice thinning as the recollection took hold, each word edged with lingering shock.
Excel (fearfully):
“They were furious. One of them tried to attack me. But suddenly… you appeared. You stood between us and rescued me.”
Orean remained still beside the bed while the spiritual weight of her story hovered in the room like an unseen mist.
Excel pointed weakly toward him, her hand shaking. Her fingers faltered mid-air, and she swallowed hard, the strain tightening her throat.
Her lips trembled, the words forcing their way out, her tone strained yet insistent, as though speaking them again gave them weight.
Excel (insistently):
“They cried out and said... ‘If we get married, we will destroy their evil plans against humanity.’ They vowed to fight our union.”
The words seemed to thicken the atmosphere of the room.
The ticking clock continued its steady march while the quiet night outside the compound remained unaware that a battle of spirits had just been spoken of within the mansion walls.
Excel lowered her hand slowly, her fingers lingering midair before falling to the bed.
Her lips parted slightly, the words slipping out fragile and unsteady, her voice softened by what she had just relived.
Excel (softly):
“And then... I woke up.”
The room fell silent again. Orean stood unmoving beside the bed, weighing every word carefully as the invisible spiritual tension lingered quietly between truth and deception.
He blinked slowly, his gaze steadying as his voice dropped, calm yet weighted with quiet realization.
Orean (measured):
“So… the kingdom of darkness is already shaking?”
The question settled into the room like a stone dropped into deep water. Even the shadows seemed to pause.
Outside the mansion, the wind brushed softly against the compound walls while the moon continued shining across the silent courtyard.
Excel gave a quick nod, the movement almost immediate, as if the answer had been waiting at the edge of her lips. Her tone followed at once—short, certain, leaving no space for doubt.
Excel (quickly):
“Yes.”
The answer came swiftly, yet the air in the room remained heavy.
The night outside deepened while the unseen spiritual realm continued watching the unfolding conversation with silent anticipation.
Orean straightened his posture slowly. His arms folded loosely across his chest as his face settled into unreadable calm.
Excel watched him closely, her grip on the bedsheet tightening once more.
Orean then stepped back slightly from the bed. His voice came out calm, controlled, and anchored.
Orean (calmly):
“Sleep now. ‘God is our refuge and strength.’”
The Scripture-like assurance settled quietly in the room while the air conditioner continued its steady hum.
Orean turned and walked toward the door, his footsteps quiet against the floor.
As he reached the doorway, a faint spill of hallway light touched the floor before he stepped out, leaving the bedroom once again wrapped in dim silence.
The door closed softly behind him.
Inside the master bedroom, silence returned—but it was no longer empty.
Excel leaned back slowly against the pillows. The calm expression on her face began to change.
The ticking clock reached 10:42 PM.
Her eyes narrowed slightly in the dim light. Then a faint smile slowly crept across her lips as the darkness of the room swallowed her expression.
Outside the mansion, the night deepened further. Wind brushed gently against the compound walls.
The moon continued its silent watch above the residence.
Within the unseen realm, the atmosphere had shifted. The battle was no longer distant. It had crossed the threshold. It had entered the home.
Moments passed.
The quiet after the disturbance settled like dust after a storm.
The mansion returned to stillness, yet the spiritual air carried the subtle weight of a conflict that had only just begun.
Light and darkness had quietly drawn their lines.
And morning would soon reveal which side truly held the ground.
Morning light spilled gently across the wide presidential compound, gliding over the high compound walls and quiet garden paths.
The early breeze carried the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hum of the waking city.
Sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the house, casting soft golden patterns across the polished tiles of the living room.
Inside Excel’s living room, Orean sat on the sofa.
His hands rested on the edge of the armrest, his head slightly bowed as though weighing something heavy within his heart.
The quiet room held a stillness that felt almost sacred, broken only by the faint movement of the curtain stirred by the morning breeze.
Suddenly, hurried footsteps brushed across the tiles.
Excel stepped out from her bedroom. Her breathing was uneven, and her brows were drawn together in a knot of frustration and pain.
She stopped a few steps away from him, folding her arms tightly across her chest.
The breeze stirred the edge of her scarf as sunlight brushed across her face. Her eyes locked on him. Her lips parted slowly as her voice rose through the quiet room.
Excel (hurt):
“Orean! Is that how God sent you to help me? I narrated what had troubled me last night, and you just walk away. Is it fair?”
The room seemed to tighten around her words. Orean slowly lifted his head, the seriousness in his face catching the glow of the ceiling light.
A quiet breath escaped him as the weight of her accusation lingered in the air.
The curtain whispered softly by the window, and the unseen atmosphere trembled with the fragile tension between wounded emotion and restrained conviction.
Orean’s fingers tightened slightly on the armrest as he turned his gaze fully toward her. His tone came gently, almost like a careful step across fragile ground.
Orean (gently):
“I’m sorry.”
The apology settled into the room like a soft drop of water in stillness. Excel’s shoulders stiffened as though unsure whether to accept the words.
The breeze brushed across the tiles, carrying a subtle tension that seemed to ripple even through the unseen spiritual realm watching the moment unfold.
Orean’s gaze remained steady on her as he gathered his thoughts, his voice deepening with sincerity.
Orean (reflective):
“I truly care about you, but… do you remember what you once said about keeping ourselves pure before the Lord?”
The mention of purity shifted the atmosphere instantly. Excel’s expression hardened, and the faint sound of her sandals echoed sharply across the floor as she stepped closer.
The sunlight streaming through the window caught the firmness in her eyes, while an unseen spiritual tension stirred between conviction and temptation.
She drew closer, frustration tightening her tone.
Excel (frustrated):
“Uhm... and so? You don’t care about me. I am going through a lot… and the only thing you can think about is purity?”
Her words struck the air with sharp emotion. Orean remained seated, watching her quietly as though weighing every word.
The breeze outside rustled the leaves beyond the window, and the unseen battle between truth and emotional pressure seemed to ripple quietly beneath the surface of the moment.
She shook her head slowly, her eyes glistening with emotion as she pressed forward.
Her grip tightened slightly, and the words pushed past the swell in her chest, her voice gaining quiet insistence as it broke through.
Excel (pressing):
“The Bible says, ‘Bear ye one another's burdens.’”
The scripture hung in the air like a powerful appeal. Orean’s eyes lowered slightly, reflecting on the weight of the words.
Even the room seemed to pause as if listening, while unseen forces in the spiritual realm stirred—some resisting the call to righteousness, others waiting for the choice about to unfold.
Excel moved even closer, lowering her voice as urgency crept into her tone.
Excel (pleading):
“Orean… please don’t let the enemy triumph over us. Let’s rise up and put them to shame.”
Her words fell like a final appeal, heavy with emotion and layered intention. The closeness between them charged the air, making every breath feel weighty.
Orean looked at her quietly, his mind turning through the storm of emotion, faith, compassion, and conviction.
The sunlight glowed softly against the tiled floor, unmoving, while in the unseen realm, the tension reached a fragile peak.
Darkness pressing in subtle persuasion, yet a quiet, unwavering presence of holiness standing firm, waiting for his choice.
The room stood suspended between two outcomes, the silence now thick with destiny.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Written by Agbemawle Atsu Norvishi
© All Rights Reserved. Shared freely to bless and inspire.
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