Hex

Dressed in a long hooded tan robe, his face obscured, Raphael weaved his way through the crowds. This Cathedral was one of the biggest and busiest in the region. He didn’t really want to be here, but his old hideout was stained with blood. His blood. So he was here, looking for the same comfort the ruins have afforded him. Ducking into a back room, he found a senior acolyte sitting alone.

“Do you hear confessions?” Raphael kept his voice low.

“I’m sorry?” The acolyte asked, closing the small book he had been reading.

“Can we talk?” Raphael stayed by the door.

“Of course. Come, sit, and I shall give you counsel.” He acolyte placed the book upon his lap and motioned to the empty spot on the bench beside him.

Taking a seat, Raphael kept his hood on to keep his face hidden. “I don’t need counsel. I only need you to listen.”

The acolyte looked a bit surprised, but kept quiet, allowing Raphael to continue.

“Forgive me, Father, I fear I may sin.”

The acolyte began to reply, but Raphael held up a hand to stop him.

“The first thing you must know, Father, is that I once owned a space station. It, along with the company and the responsibility for all of its employees, passed to me upon the death of my father. He, and I, were honest businessmen. We made no shady deals, trampled over no one. We did everything right. The only mistake we made was not being part of a noble family.”

The acolyte regarded Raphael with a look, but said nothing.

“Of course, at the peak of our success, we were beset by the greed of a noble. He demanded our property. The station, the equipment, the harvest. When we refused, he destroyed it. What was left, he took, leaving us nothing but ashes. I didn’t only lose the station and almost all of the company’s assets in that attack, but I nearly lost all of my crews, their families, and my life.”

The acolyte sat quiet through Raphael’s tale.

“It was an unforgivable attack. He sought to take what wasn’t his because the only people in charge of the station were commoners. His greed cost me almost everything. And now, now when I’ve gotten everything back up to speed, that I’ve gotten back on my feet, he sends his sister to plague me. His goddamn sister! As if he hasn’t insulted me enough!”

The acolyte jumped at bit as Raphael took God’s name in vain, but the anger present in his voice kept the acolyte from admonishing him.

“When I discovered who she was, I lost it. I confronted her, demanding answers. She gave me none, and before I could extract any, I was interrupted. She got away, and I took my anger out on the lounge.”

The acolyte raises a brow as Raphael lets out a long sigh before continuing.

“I was told by a confidant not to pursue retribution against this girl; that I don’t know that she has anything to do with what her brother did. Someone else told me the same thing, telling me that if I take any serious action against her, that I would be thrown out.”

The acolyte remains quiet as Raphael pauses and collects his thoughts.

“I didn’t join because I wanted to. I never intended to make a career out of it. I joined to erase the sins of my past, to pay off the debts to God I accumulated throughout my life. Vengeance might not redeem me in the eyes of God, but it would certainly do me a world of good. I’ve been holding in my anger over the attack for so long, drowning it in drink, that unleashing it would be nothing but cathartic.”

The acolyte attempted to speak again, but Raphael spoke over him.

“I know two wrongs don’t make a right, and that if she is indeed innocent, I would be nothing more than a monster. But she had some of the stolen gear, and she actively used it to mock me, bringing me a token sample of rock and claiming to know a life of labor because of it. The way she talks to me, refers to me, looks at me, treats me…I know she’s involved somehow.”

“I don’t want to be a monster, Father, but I don’t know what I’ll do when I see her again. Everyone has told me what not to do, but has offered no advice on what to do. I don’t want to lose myself, but the anger I feel is so great. I lost almost everything because I wouldn’t give in to someone who was nothing more than a glorified bully. I won’t just back down and run off. No matter what happens, I will stand proud and face the consequences.”

Sensing a pause in his story, the acolyte ventured a question.

“What is your name, son?”

Raphael turned to look at him, his face staying hidden within the shadow of his cloak.

“Raphael.”

The acolyte smiled, and he began to speak in a soft tone.

“There is the answer you are looking for, right there. Do you know what your name means? It means ‘God’s healing.’ You need to rely on God to show you your path. He will enlighten you to whether the rage you feel in your heart is either unholy vengeance or righteous fury, whether your steadfast determination is a blessing, or in this case a hex. Let God in, and let him heal your wounds.”

Raphael sat quiet for a few moments before standing. He thanked the acolyte for his time, but not for his advice. It sounded too much like inaction. A non-answer. But he hadn’t come here for an answer.

As Raphael reached the main chamber after exiting the back corridors, he looked out upon the throngs of people kneeling before the grand altar, sending their prayers to God. Raphael had always preferred to pray alone, silently praying in solitude. However, he thought again of the acolyte’s suggestion, and moving over to a pew with an opening, kneeled beside another and began to pray.

High Five

Staggering in, clutching his side, Raphael collapses into his usual seat.

“I did it, Father, mission accomplished.”

He sighs contently.

“No forgiveness needed tonight, Father. I did nothing but good.”

He takes his hand away from his side for a second to assess the wound once more. His armor is cracked, a large hole in the side.

“Had an important mission today. It was supposed to be suicide.”

He places his hand back on his side, feeling the warmth through his glove.

“Had a jump clone readied incase I met my end. This assignment was out of pod, but…”

Raphael winces slightly as he applies more pressure.

“…I succeeded. God’s will has been done, and it has been completed by my hand. I’m closer, Father, to finally paying off my debts.”

He smiles, feeling happier than he has in a while as he reminisces about his victory.

“Those foolish Matari believed they could resist God’s light, and hide in the darkness. Even out of pod, I was able to show them their place. I think…I think I have finally become a true crusader.”

He wheezes as he struggles against the pain building in his chest.

“Just over the hill there, Father. It turns out they had been hiding just over the hill. The whole lot of them. I wonder, were they there when I came here before? Were they always so close?”

Saint slips a bit further down in his seat.

“The ship…was destroyed though. Need to…await…pick up.”

His chest heaves as he takes another breath.

“Definitely a cause for celebration. This wasn’t only a victory for God, or the Empire, but a personal victory. God smiled upon my previous endeavors, and blessed me in this one.”

In pain and struggling to breathe, he keeps smiling.

“I have more good news, Father. I found what it was I was looking for, what I told you about before. I found the man who has her, my mother. Somehow, these Matari were involved with him. I’ve found out where he operates, and I plan on paying him a visit as soon as I get out of here….and get this looked at.”

He grunts as a sharp pain ripples up his side.

“Excuse me, Father, but I need to get out in the open, so they can find me easier.”

He struggles to his feet, but slips on the puddle that had formed beneath his seat and collapses back into the chair. He smiles weakly.

“Perhaps…I will stay a bit longer.”

He struggles to sit higher in the chair, but his feet slip along the floor, unable to get a hold.

“A great, victory, Father. I’ve…finally found…her…”

He slowly closes his eyes, his voice fading as he continues to try and speak. As he falls silent, his head rolls to the side to rest on his shoulder, his arm falling limply to his side.

Dismissed Forthwith

“Father…”

Raphael sits in his usual spot, hunched over, staring at the ground.

“I…I don’t know what to do.”

His face is impassive, with a hint of sadness.

“I told her…I told her that it didn’t matter, I told her a couple of times. I think I was trying not only to convince her, but myself. I needed to believe it myself that it was alright, that it didn’t matter. However, once I was left to my own thoughts, I could only think of how it changed everything.”

He shuffles a bit, but keeps his overall posture.

“She was a spy, Father. A spy. One who makes their living on deceit.”

He pulls his flask from his chest pocket.

“I had joked about picking drinking back up. I had stopped a week or so ago. I had thought I was finally ready to face everything. I was wrong.”

He unscrews the cap and takes a long drink, the almost forgotten flavor once again flowing over his tongue.

“I don’t know how to proceed. I don’t know what to believe. A spy? To still be here after her clandestine activities, she has to be good at lying. Well versed in deception. I mean, she could have been anything, Father, anything, and it would have been better than this.”

He takes another sip and closes his eyes as he is reunited with his old friend.

“She could have been a pirate, a noble, a mass murderer….anything other than a deceiver. Anything. Now…now I don’t know what to believe. I don’t know what’s real with her. What’s false.”

He sighs heavily and rests his forehead on his hand as he stares at the ground. He shakes his head, not knowing any other way to put it.

“The whole situation is fucked now.”

He sits back upright and leans against the wall.

“While that is definitely what’s weighing on me most at this moment, I do have other problems. The Commander’s problem, which has become my own most recently, is keeping me from other pursuits I would rather be taking part in. I find myself beginning to hate the Commander now, Father. Hate him for getting me involved. For involving Shalee. For taking my time, my very way of life, from me. How she worries for him when he has destroyed her peace of mind, I have no idea.”

He exhales slowly in a long sigh.

“Sometimes I can’t stand her.”

He takes another sip from his flask as he stares at the ceiling.

“I still need to investigate that message I got so many weeks ago. I need to investigate my mother. But I no longer have the time. I certainly can’t poke around when I need to constantly watch over my shoulder.”

Taking another drink, he continues.

“The Commander isn’t the only higher-up I’m starting to find my faith lacking in. I once held the Captain in high regard. I once had the utmost respect for her. Obviously, the sentiment wasn’t returned.”

His shoulders sag as he heaves his third sigh, and he frowns as frustration creeps in.

“She caught Shalee and I arguing. We eventually had to feed her our charade, that we were a couple now. That we were dating. The Captain came back at us with a threat to tell the Admiralty. I tried to calm her down, ease her frustration. She called me an abuser. She accused me of abusing Shalee. The only thing I had done, anywhere close to that, was grab Shalee’s arm. I didn’t even grip it tight, only firm.”

He takes another sip.

“If the Captain thinks that I am so low as to beat a woman, she must have no respect for me at all. Why should I bother to give her any?”

He scoffs.

“She threatened to tell the Admiralty. To bring the fake relationship under scrutiny, to determine if either Shalee or I were acceptable for the Praetoria. If such an inquiry were to come to light, I would hang the Commander out to dry. Shalee might give up her career in the Praetoria for him, but I will not. My patience with him, and with her, is wearing thin.”

He pauses for a second.

“It seems I can trace all my current problems back to the Commander.”

Raphael stands up, turning his head to speak one last remark.

“I need room. I just need space to sort all this out, and I won’t. I won’t have it until he’s either back…or he’s dead.”