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.