Death beneath the house
The bells of Saint Verena rang thirteen times that night.
No one noticed.
The church had been silent for hours. The last candles in the chapel flickered beneath the enormous wooden cross, throwing long shadows across the ancient walls.
Sister Eliana knelt before the altar.
Her hands trembled against her knees.
She had returned to Saint Verena only a month earlier after spending a year away from the church.
A year was supposed to have changed her.
Instead, it had given her a secret she could never take back.
She had met someone.
She had fallen in love.
And she had broken the vows she had made.
At first, Eliana believed that was the worst thing that could happen to her.
Then the deaths began.
The first was Sister Agnes.
Three days later, the old groundskeeper was found dead.
Then a visitor collapsed during evening prayer.
Three deaths.
Three nights.
And each time, shortly before someone died, Eliana heard the same sound.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
She had told herself it was the old church settling.
Tonight, however, the sound came again.
But this time, it came from directly beneath her.
Eliana stopped praying.
“Father?”
A man's voice answered from behind her.
“Eliana.”
She turned.
Father Malachai stood at the entrance of the chapel.
Her father.
His black robes disappeared into the darkness behind him.
“You asked to speak with me.”
Eliana lowered her head.
“Yes.”
He approached slowly.
“What is it?”
Her lips trembled.
“I need to confess something.”
Malachai stopped.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
Then Eliana whispered:
“I sinned.”
Her father stared at her.
She began to cry.
She told him about the man she had met during her year away.
She told him about the promises she had broken.
She expected anger.
She expected disappointment.
Instead, her father's face became strangely pale.
“Did he follow you?”
Eliana looked up.
“Who?”
Malachai glanced toward the cross.
“Eliana,” he said quietly, “what happened while you were away?”
“I told you.”
“No.”
His voice became colder.
“You told me what you did.”
He stepped closer.
“I asked what happened.”
Eliana stared at him.
“I don't understand.”
Then—
Knock.
Both of them froze.
Knock.
The sound came from beneath the floor.
Knock.
Eliana's breathing quickened.
Her father closed his eyes.
He looked less surprised than afraid.
“It has found you,” he whispered.
---
Before sunrise, the church doors were locked.
The sisters were ordered to remain in their rooms.
Nobody was allowed to speak to Eliana.
Nobody was told why.
Father Malachai made the decision himself.
He told them that something evil had followed his daughter home.
He told them ordinary prayers would not be enough.
And Eliana believed him.
She believed her sin had opened a door.
She didn't know that her father had been waiting twenty-five years for that door to open.
---
The ritual took place beneath the church.
There was an old chamber hidden beneath the altar, a place most of the sisters had never seen.
The walls were made of blackened stone.
The air smelled of damp earth and burning wax.
At the center of the chamber stood an enormous wooden cross.
Eliana stared at it.
“No.”
Father Malachai stood behind her.
“Eliana…”
“No.”
She turned toward him.
“Please.”
Her voice broke.
“I'm your daughter.”
For a moment, Malachai looked like a father rather than a priest.
Then the expression disappeared.
“You brought this upon yourself.”
Two sisters led Eliana toward the cross.
She resisted.
“No. Please.”
They secured her against the wooden cross.
Her wrists were restrained against the wood, keeping her firmly in place.
Eliana looked at her father.
“Please don't do this.”
Malachai opened an ancient leather-bound book.
The pages were yellowed and covered with unfamiliar writing.
He placed one hand over the book.
Then he began.
«“Vareth… nwa n'abalị.
Bilie n'okpuru ọchịchịrị.
Gee ntị n'olu nke kpọrọ gị.
Ihe e liri agaghị anwụ.”»
Eliana's breathing became uneven.
“Father…”
Malachai continued.
«“Ọnụ ụzọ emeghela.
Aha ahụ kpọrọ gị.
Ihe zoro ezo, pụta.
Vareth… bilie.”»
The flames of the candles leaned toward Eliana.
She looked around nervously.
“Father, stop.”
He continued.
«“Nụrụ olu m.
Nụrụ okwu m.
Hapụ ahụ a.
Laghachi n'ọchịchịrị.”»
Eliana suddenly jerked against the restraints.
The wooden cross creaked.
One of the sisters stepped back.
“Father…”
“Do not stop.”
Eliana's head dropped.
Her breathing became heavy.
Then silent.
Malachai watched her carefully.
“Eliana?”
Slowly, she raised her head.
She smiled.
Malachai frowned.
“Release me.”
The words were soft.
Almost gentle.
“Eliana…”
“Release me.”
Her smile widened.
“Let me go.”
One of the sisters stared at her.
“Eliana, please—”
Eliana turned her head toward her.
“Leave me.”
The sister froze.
“Leave me alone.”
Her voice sounded different now.
Lower.
Colder.
Eliana suddenly laughed.
It began as a quiet little chuckle.
Then grew louder.
Her shoulders shook with laughter.
The sisters stared at one another.
Malachai continued reading.
Eliana stopped laughing.
She looked directly at him.
“You.”
Malachai looked up.
“You act so holy.”
“Silence.”
She smiled.
“Why?”
She pulled against the restraints.
“It's not like you're holy yourself.”
The room became silent.
One of the sisters looked at Malachai.
His face had hardened.
“What did you say?”
Eliana laughed again.
“You heard me.”
Malachai stepped closer.
“Show yourself.”
Eliana's smile disappeared.
“Show yourself!”
His voice echoed through the chamber.
For several seconds, there was nothing.
Then Eliana began laughing.
A strange, broken laugh.
Louder.
Louder.
Until it filled the chamber.
Malachai raised his book.
“By the authority entrusted to me, I command you—”
“Release me…”
“Leave this body.”
“Release me…”
“Return to the darkness.”
“Let me go…”
Malachai's voice grew louder.
“Be silent!”
Eliana smiled.
“You're afraid.”
“I fear nothing.”
“You should.”
She suddenly threw her head backward.
Her body convulsed against the restraints.
The cross shook beneath her.
The sisters screamed.
“Father!”
“Do not touch her!”
Eliana's body continued to tremble.
Her voice came between ragged breaths.
“Release…”
Her body jerked again.
“Me…”
Malachai began another incantation.
«“Aha gị, mechie!
Olu gị, mechie!
Ụzọ gị, mechie!
Ihe kpọrọ gị, laghachi!
Laghachi n'ọchịchịrị!”»
Eliana suddenly went still.
Her eyes opened.
She stared at Malachai.
Then she smiled.
“You don't know what you're doing.”
Malachai's grip tightened around the book.
“Show yourself!”
Eliana laughed.
“Show yourself!”
He shouted again.
“SHOW YOURSELF!”
Her laughter became louder.
Then—
silence.
Every candle went out.
The chamber disappeared into darkness.
The sisters screamed.
Nobody moved.
Then came three quiet knocks.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Malachai stood frozen.
“Eliana?”
Nothing.
He began the final words.
His voice shook despite his effort to remain calm.
«“Aha gị, mechie.
Olu gị, mechie.
Ụzọ gị, mechie.
Ihe ọ bụla ị bụ…
pụọ.”»
Silence.
Then the lights suddenly returned.
The sisters turned toward the cross.
Eliana was completely still.
Her head had fallen forward.
Her eyes were closed.
Malachai approached.
“Eliana?”
No answer.
He placed his hand against her shoulder.
Nothing.
He checked her breathing.
His expression changed.
“She is dead.”
One of the sisters covered her mouth.
Malachai closed the book.
For several seconds, he stared at his daughter.
Then he spoke.
“Prepare the coffin.”
---
Before sunrise, Father Malachai gave another order.
“She will not be buried in the cemetery.”
The sisters looked at him.
“Father?”
“Take her beneath the altar.”
They carried the coffin through the underground passage.
Deeper.
And deeper.
The air grew colder as they descended.
At last, they reached an ancient chamber beneath the church.
Malachai pointed toward the ground.
“Here.”
The workers began digging.
“Deeper.”
They continued.
“Deeper.”
The hole grew deeper.
“Deeper.”
Malachai watched without blinking.
At last, he nodded.
“Lower her.”
The coffin disappeared into the darkness.
Soil fell over it.
Then another layer.
And another.
Until there was no sign that anyone had ever been buried there.
Malachai stared at the ground.
His breathing slowly steadied.
“It is finished.”
He turned away.
For the first time in twenty-five years, he believed he had finally done it.
Whatever had followed Eliana was buried.
Whatever had been waiting beneath Saint Verena was silent.
The church was safe.
The sisters were safe.
His family was safe.
Father Malachai walked toward the stairs without looking back.
He never noticed the faint crack that appeared in the stone beneath the altar.
He never heard the soft sound beneath the earth.
And he never knew that the ritual he believed had ended the evil...
had only given it a way to wake.
