THE BATTLE FOR A SAINTESS | PART 21
The evening sunlight spilled softly through the tall hospital windows, spreading warm gold across the polished tile floor.
The faint hum of a ceiling fan rotated steadily above, stirring the quiet air of the private ward.
The room held a solemn stillness—broken only by the quiet breathing of those gathered around the bed and the distant murmur of activity somewhere down the hospital corridor.
Excel lay propped against the pillows, pale and trembling. Her fingers tightened slowly around the edge of the blanket as though bracing herself against invisible pressure.
The light caught the tear tracks on her cheeks as she slowly lifted her face again.
A weight gathered in her chest, steady and suffocating, as though even her next words had to push through it.
Her lips parted, unsteady, eyes clouded with something she could barely name. A faint tremor ran through her expression, voice breaking unevenly as it surfaced.
Excel (fragile):
“When Kaliqa saw I was spiritually dead… that was when I felt something strange strike me.”
The words drifted into the quiet room like a shadow passing across sunlight. A faint chill seemed to ripple through the air as if the very walls recoiled from what had just been spoken.
Mr. Wonder’s jaw tightened while Mrs. Wonder pressed a trembling hand against her mouth. Orean remained still beside the bed, but his breathing deepened slightly.
Somewhere in the spiritual atmosphere beyond mortal sight, the name of darkness stirred uneasily, groaning in the pit of hell under the quiet authority resting upon the place.
Excel’s hand rose slowly, pressing against her chest as if the memory itself burned within her.
Her breath uneven, eyes glassing over as her voice broke through the silence, as if dragged out from somewhere deep she could no longer hide.
Excel (sobbing):
“And just like that… I started doing evil things I never imagined I could do.”
A low wave of grief moved through those gathered. Some lowered their eyes while others clasped their hands in silent prayer.
Outside the window, the fading sunlight dimmed slightly behind a passing cloud, as though creation itself mourned the confession being poured out.
Excel’s shoulders trembling as she fought to hold herself together against a rising flood of memory.
Her fingers curled tightly on the bed, as though grounding herself in the present before the past could swallow her again.
Her tone was fragments—unsteady, strained, as if each word had to be pulled free from something resisting inside her.
Excel (fearfully):
“She revealed her true form to me later. From then, I have been attending demon’s gathering in unseen vast realm. Horrible. Ugly. Fearful. Beyond mortal description.”
A quiet gasp escaped from one of the believers standing near the door. The word “realm” seemed to settle like a dark mist in the room.
Mrs. Wonder lowered her head deeply, whispering a prayer beneath her breath.
The spiritual weight of the testimony pressed heavily against the atmosphere, yet something unseen—holy and watchful—held the darkness from spreading further.
Excel’s throat tightened, her gaze dropping as if the weight of her own thoughts pressed her down. Her voice broke through in a fragile line—low, edged with inner conflict.
Excel (weakly):
“Majority of those who claimed they are preacher, chorister, gospel musician, believer and many more are agents of darkness.”
The statement struck the room with quiet shock. A few people shifted uneasily where they stood, their hearts wrestling with the heaviness of the revelation.
The fan creaked softly overhead, its slow rhythm now sounding like the ticking of time itself.
Yet even as the darkness of the confession unfolded, a deeper stillness—pure and sovereign—hovered quietly in the unseen realm.
Excel’s fingers gripped the blanket again, knuckles pressing faintly beneath the fabric as if grounding herself against the thought.
Her gaze fixed somewhere distant, no longer fully anchored in the room, as the weight of what she was saying settled into her expression.
Her tone dropped, slow and grave, each word coming out measured but heavy, as though she was reluctant to give it shape.
Excel (gravely):
“Kaliqa wants to rule the world, and she selected some of us to be president in our nation. And she successfully achieved it. Because all the politicians are her agents.”
A stunned silence followed. The fading sunlight stretched longer across the tile floor, shadows creeping quietly toward the hospital bed.
Mr. Wonder wiped tears from his face, his shoulders heavy with the burden of what he was hearing. Excel’s voice came again as tears spilled down her face.
Excel (crying):
“So... I handed the nation to her.”
The confession dropped into the room like a stone into deep water. Mrs. Wonder began weeping openly now.
A few believers bowed their heads, whispering urgent prayers under their breath.
Outside the window, the wind stirred lightly through distant trees, the rustling leaves sounding almost like a quiet intercession rising toward heaven.
Excel shook her head slowly, as though rejecting the memory even as she spoke it. Her words came out faint and distant, touched by something unsettling beneath the surface.
Excel (haunted):
“She was not just a queen of demons… but, a deep fiery dark spirit.”
The room seemed to grow colder for a moment, the atmosphere tightening like a coiled thread.
Yet beneath the tension, the unseen presence of divine authority remained—quiet, patient, unmovable.
Excel’s eyes lowered as shame flooded her expression. Her shoulders tightening as though trying to hold herself together from the inside.
Her tone trembled under the weight of memory, each word careful as if it hurt to release it.
Excel (trembling):
“Kaliqa used me to fulfill her evil plans. Terrible things happened through me.”
The confession settled heavily over the room. Several believers wiped tears from their faces.
One elderly woman quietly murmured a verse beneath her breath, her voice barely audible yet steady with faith.
The spiritual atmosphere trembled between darkness remembered and mercy approaching.
Slowly, Excel lifted her eyes toward Orean, shame flickering across her face. Her gaze wavered, then steadied just enough to meet his.
Her voice was strained and pained, like each word had to be pulled up from somewhere deep and unwilling.
Excel (painfully):
“Men who thought they slept with me are blinded. It wasn't truly me.”
A sharp intake of breath moved through the room. Mr. Wonder’s eyes widened slightly while Mrs. Wonder shook her head in disbelief.
Yet Orean remained still, his gaze steady, absorbing every word without interruption.
Excel raised a trembling hand, fingers unsteady in the air as if even the gesture cost her strength.
Her tone was unevenly between words, shaped by tears she couldn’t fully contain.
Excel (explaining):
“Whenever they came near… another dark spirit would replace me and look like me.”
Several believers tightened their clasped hands, their whispered prayers growing more urgent.
The spiritual tension in the room deepened, yet a holy stillness continued to overshadow the place like unseen light pressing back against shadow.
Excel’s gaze lingered on Orean again. Her fingers curled loosely against her palm, uncertain where to rest. Her voice softened into something fragile and exposed.
Excel (softly):
“So... during our honeymoon, Orean discovered I was a virgin.”
The words hung delicately in the room, bringing a quiet ripple of surprise. Mrs. Wonder looked up slowly, tears still clinging to her lashes.
Orean lowered his eyes briefly, the weight of memory moving across his face. The fading sunlight touched the side of the bed, casting long golden reflections across the floor.
Excel continued slowly, her voice weak, yet held together by effort alone—fragile, but not entirely collapsing.
Excel (confessing):
“I told Kaliqa not to replace me with another dark spirit... until our honeymoon was over. That's why i did not feel heat through his body.”
The listeners exchanged uncertain glances, the complexity of the spiritual deception weighing heavily upon them.
The room felt suspended between revelation and judgment, yet a quiet thread of mercy continued weaving through the atmosphere.
Excel swallowed again, shoulders tightening as if bracing against something still echoing inside her. Her fingers curled inward, tone thinning at the edges as fear crept through her words.
Excel (fearfully):
“Kaliqa doesn't waste time and she hates patience. After we have done that night and resting, she stirred demonic power in me to end Orean.”
A faint shiver passed through several people standing nearby. The idea of invisible forces moving so close to them made the air feel tight and fragile.
Excel’s fingers trembled faintly against her own skin, gaze distant, caught somewhere between fear and remembrance. Her voice dropped lower as the memory resurfaced.
Excel (trembling):
“When I was about to wake up to carry out the spiritual assassination on Orean... that's when i felt his hand on mine.”
The moment seemed to replay in the silence. Orean’s eyes slowly lowered again as if remembering that very night.
The room held its breath, the spiritual tension thick like thunder waiting to break.
Excel’s shoulders lifted with a shaky inhale, her posture unsteady.
Her gaze drifted somewhere beyond the room, lost between realization and disbelief. Her tone opened with a trembling clarity.
Excel (astonished):
“That’s when my spiritual assignment failed on him.”
A quiet ripple of awe moved through those listening. Some lifted their heads slowly, sensing that something greater than human strength had intervened that night.
In the unseen realm, the presence of divine authority lingered like a silent flame that darkness could not extinguish.
Excel’s expression tightened, emotion cresting again as her composure fractured on the bed. Her voice cracked once more.
Excel (sorrowful):
“No man had truly touched me.”
The confession softened the room with sorrow rather than shock. Several believers wiped their faces as tears continued to flow freely.
The fading sunlight now rested gently across the bed, bathing the moment in quiet gold.
Orean lowered his gaze slowly, as though each word had settled somewhere deeper than thought. His stillness held, quiet and unmoving, absorbing the weight of what had been spoken.
Excel’s hands trembled as they rose to her face, fingers pressing against her eyes as her composure finally broke apart.
Her shoulders shook, breath uneven, grief spilling through the cracks she could no longer hold shut.
Her tone trembled through the tears—bare, unguarded, stripped of anything left to defend herself.
Excel (crying):
“I brought shame upon myself.”
The room responded with heavy silence. Mrs. Wonder’s shoulders shook as she wept quietly.
A distant hospital trolley rattled faintly down the corridor outside, its sound oddly distant against the emotional storm unfolding within the ward.
Slowly, Excel lowered her hands again and lifted her eyes toward Orean. Her voice came quieter now, weighed down by shame, each word carefully dragged into the open.
Excel (ashamed):
“I deceived Orean... with fake dreams. Just so I could marry him and destroy him completely.”
A deep sorrow spread through the room. Even those who had been silent until now lowered their heads in grief.
The spiritual atmosphere trembled between accusation and redemption, like a battlefield waiting for the arrival of mercy.
Excel’s shoulders trembled again, as if the memory itself pressed against her frame.
Fingers tightened faintly in her lap, then loosened, unable to hold onto anything for long. Her gaze dipped, tone losing strength as it struggled through a fragile restraint.
Excel (weakly):
“But the spirit inside him… it was too hot… too holy. I could not bear it.”
The words settled over the room with a quiet power. A subtle shift moved through the atmosphere—something pure and unyielding.
Several believers felt a deep stirring in their hearts, recognizing the unseen protection of God.
Silence followed.
Excel slowly folded her hands together on the blanket. Her voice came out soft and fractured, carrying the weight of exhaustion and fear, each word barely holding its shape.
Excel (pleading):
“Please… everyone… forgive me.”
The room seemed to soften as her plea echoed against the walls. Tears flowed freely now among those gathered.
The heavy darkness of confession had begun to crack under the rising presence of repentance.
Excel’s shoulders slumped as tears streamed down her face. Slowly—weakly—she slid from the hospital bed onto her knees on the cold tile floor.
The sunlight caught the tears slipping from her chin, each drop glinting briefly before falling out of sight.
Her shoulders trembled as she slowly lifted her tear-filled eyes toward them, as though meeting the weight of her own truth head-on.
Her tone was fractured, held together only by confession and grief.
Excel (broken):
“I have sinned against God. I have sinned against you.”
The moment froze in sacred stillness. Several believers bowed their heads deeply. One whispered softly from Scripture.
Believer (whispered):
“‘A broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.’”
The unseen spiritual realm seemed to shift as heaven itself listened.
Excel’s voice collapsed into desperate cries as she lifted both trembling hands toward heaven.
Excel (sobbing):
“God… please… have mercy on me. Forgive me.”
The room could no longer contain its emotion. Weeping filled the ward. Some knelt where they stood, others lifted quiet prayers toward heaven.
The oppressive weight that once hung in the air began to loosen, as though repentance itself had opened a doorway for mercy to descend.
The fading sunlight poured through the window one last time, washing the room in soft gold as the cry for forgiveness rose like incense before God.
The atmosphere shifted.
Darkness that had been named trembled in the eternal lake of fire under the presence of grace.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Written by Agbemawle Atsu Norvishi
© All Rights Reserved. Shared freely to bless and inspire.
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