Page 131 of Lourdes & the Mafia
I find him hunched over his piano, his fingers dancing across keys, his head hung low. The tune he plays seems almost sorrowful, a song of lament that mimics the humming of the souls in Lorenzo’s domain.
I stand in the silence for a long time, watching the eloquent way he carries himself. This moment seems heartbreaking. The slight red lighting from the high windows of the castle slant across his sad form casting his face in an expression of twisted pain and torture.
A brief flash of a vision goes through my mind, almost like I pull it into being myself. I don’t mean to, but now that I’ve identified and awakened my magic, it just comes. Without physical pain this time, but the soul-crushing loneliness in this vision is enough to hurt every bone in my body.
Ramiel, dragging broken wings on the ground as he crawls and pulls himself by the nails across the floor. His body is broken. Bloody. But the physical pain is nothing compared to the turmoil radiating from his whole being.
He grunts, his body sobbing, right before the ground opens up from beneath him and swallows him whole.
He falls through darkness, but he doesn’t cry out, as if resigned to falling for a second time. But now when he lands at the bottom, there’s no agony to be found.
There’s nothing but dust and fire, and an endless expanse of dark sky and land with no beginning and no end.
It takes what feels like hours for him to push to his feet. He cries out and winces every time until he finally manages to stand without wobbling. The white, bloody wings change form from the tips, darkening like black veins spreading until they’re entirely black.
He cries out when they change, and the sorrow is so impactful, tears form in my own eyes at the sight. But besides that, there’s also pride.
And Ramiel takes one step forward.
And another.
Another.
Everything happens quickly, scrolling through my mind like a fast-motion screen. Ramiel scavenging through the vast Underworld and finding nothing. Ramiel screaming at the sky. Ramiel sitting alone. Ramiel stumbling upon his first soul. The whip forming in his hand and a single purpose filling his body, like this is what he was made for and he knows it.
The torture.
The screams.
There are tender scenes, too. Scenes of Ramiel guiding wisps of spirits to their lament. Ramiel entering the mouth of the base of a volcano. A ritual, cleansing bodies before tossing them into the fire. Weeping silent tears as their souls cross over.
There’s loneliness in every single scene. Even as the souls pile up and he gains his confidence. As his wounds cleanse and he becomes something more dangerous rather than angelic. As he builds his empire and creates his castle. As he walks along the sands of his oasis, he is alone.
Until he isn’t.
Until the ground opens and two naked forms appear. One with a tail and horns, the other with wings and horns. Forked tongues, claws, and teeth.
Savage.
Brutal.
And loyal.
“Demons. Kane. Lorenzo. Brothers.”
And suddenly, that loneliness is gone, replaced with affection and understanding. Together, they rule.
Together, they stand on top of an empire.
The King of Torture.
The King of Healing.
The King of Death.
I built my own empire.Those words he once said to me echo in my mind now, fading along with the scene. I’m pulled back to real time as the music rises to a crescendo and then falls, crashing around us.
I don’t realize I’m crying until Ramiel looks up and whispers, “Vidente.”
