Bloody Dawn. Daughter of Dawn - Natalie Yacobson

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It seemed to be just a stretch of his palms, and he would touches something living and sacred, not marble.

      It is said that evil can also be sacred. Ferdinand did not even remember who of the holy fathers said it to him and for what purpose. Perhaps it was just a metaphor. The deep and cruel words were very fascinated in the soul. Ferdinand almost saw them with burning fire on the bare wall of his cell. The situation around seemed such wretched, but his dreams were invariably remained Divine. Sometimes they were even more beautiful than dreams. After all, he almost did not allow himself to dream. He tried to not distract his thoughts from prayer.

      And today in a dream, he finally got the desired response to all his long posts and prayers. He dreamed of… more precisely, he dreamed of a marble angel from the cathedral. Only in a dream the statue came to life. She left freely the pedestal. The movements of the angel were feline. There are in her something from predator and at the same time something majestic, he wanted to fall on his knees before her. Only in his dream, Ferdinand could not move his hand or a foot. He could not even talk. But marble in front of him has gained flesh and continued to undergo the most fantastic changes. Of course, the angel was a girl. She was a divine creation with smoky ash wings framed by golden border. She looked at him impassively. And yet it seemed that in her eyes there was a light reproach, even anger.

      «I worship you,» he still found the strength to whisper her. It is a pity that enthusiastic words sounded rather as an excuse. «I worship only you. I am idle you. And you are my only deity.»

      «So Judas said,» said a clear angelic voice. Ferdinand felt as if he was struck. He did not even immediately realize that for the angel he is Judas.

      He woke up in cold sweat. Probably he shouted in a dream, because in narrow corridors, concerned the steps of the brothers were heard. The night guard have already hurried to him.

      Ferdinand cast back strands from his forehead. How terrible! The angel compared him with the most disgusting traitor in the history of mankind. Did he deserve it?

      And this happened not for the first time. A voice in his head broke his consciousness, and it was like burning fire. The feeling that the dragon, about which is stated so much in Scripture, burned all his brains and thoughts. Inside, too, everything was burning. He reached out for the jug and spilled water. The transparent puddle spread over the table. It seemed to him that this was a blood again, which he was given it today. After the overthrow of the rite, it did not break it away. Although he was sure that this would happen. He mentally prepared for the fact that he would be sick of all night, but nauseous was not. Instead, inside everything was burned as in fever. It is too unnatural – drinking the blood of other people or any living beings. Man should never do so. They explained to him that God wants so much, and he obeyed. Perhaps it was not worth…

      Inside the hell was expressed. There was no fireplace in the cell or even a tiny furnace to warm up in the cold. The fever proceeded from his own body. It is said that if you drink the blood of the dragon, then all your insides will simply burn. He felt as if he had just drank the blood of a fire monster, about which so much was written in the secret books of the Brotherhood. And here the dragon burned him from the inside. It was exquisite torture.

      He remembered the fireplace in the old family mansion, it was made in the form of a wounded dragon. As a child, this grand subject of the interior did not seem to him terrible. Now even the memories of it brought the wave of fear.

      It seemed that the dragon was here, not just inside this room, but inside him. The dragon entered him, merged with him, and it was a merger to death. Now he will just burn.

      His brothers broke into the cell. They did not even knock. They just came running on his cry. It was quite explained. He shouted as if he was torn by the claws of living dragon. If they heard this cry, they understood everything. The Order Brothers should have known what nightmares were tormented him.

      Someone stroked his hair. Tonio, a beautiful brunette was his friend before the brotherhood and here too. He also followed the brotherhood for him by a certain only him known reason.

      Ferdinand barely distinguished the faces of his fellows. There were just white spots, not the faces around him. He recognized Tonio in a voice. Tonio told something comforting. The sounds calmed as a lullaby. Clean sounds. Tonio is the most beautiful singer here in church as before he was the most beautiful singer in the sophisticated salon of the palace. Then he was just a poor aristocrat, now he is an equal member of the community, which was and respected, and secret. They were in secret above all religious communities, but no one knew about them. They were just shadows in dark capes or cassocks. A strange fraternity that was allowed to have weapons, track, kill and call it all the God’s judgement. It was all allowed. They did not change their names, entering the brotherhood, as was customary in most monasteries. They did not have tonsure, the taking of monastic vows was purely symbolic. But the terrible rituals were not symbolic. Today, Ferdinand was convinced that everything was very really: the blood of his fellows in his tongue, a flame inside and an accusing angel’s voice.

      He wanted to ask his senior and more experienced brothers, what could mean when an angel calls you Judas. But he did not dare. He suddenly became scary and ashamed.

      In addition, it was only their mystery: his marble angel. And in general, the statue was silent. It did not say anything. He heard the voice only in his head.

      «You will be better,» Tonio whispered in his ear long ago, but the meaning of words began to reach him only now. «It will soon pass. Father Donatello says it’s just one night.»

      One night may seem like an eternity in such agony. It was easier to die immediately. Ferdinand suddenly remembered the ritual dagger, which he now had to be with him. Do not reach the handle. In addition, there were observers nearby. It will not be allowed to him to cut himself and to release something burning out of his blood.

      «He has it stronger than others,» someone said. Ferdinand did not recognize the voices.

      «So he will have more strength than they had.»

      The pain inside remained fiery, and the outlines of the world have lost all clarity. It is said that in this state it is easy to hear the voices of supernatural creatures, but he heard only the dialogue of people.

      «How do you know how it passed by others?»

      «But there are records…»

      «What if they understood the degree of suffering, so as not to scare the upcoming generations?»

      «Then they would have broken a vow. After all, we swear to transfer only the truth in the scripting on paper. Future generations should be aware of what they expect. Otherwise they could not fight against her?»

      Against her! Again, someone said that, and Ferdinand did not like how they uttered it. Why not call the devil with his own name, whatever his new shell was. After all, the devil always remains the devil. In any kind. It would be more difficult for many brothers if the devil turned out to be a beautiful young man, which he was by the time of his fame. Many here believed that the young men are much more seductive. Here is Tonio, for example. How gentle is his touch. In the presence of a girl, he would become stone, but he felt some kind of attraction to a friend. Maybe it only seems to him… Never in his life he did not experience passion to anyone. Therefore, he was chosen to fight the devil. He will have the final victory over him. Others are easy to tempt, he is not. He just won’t feel anything. He makes a blow and that’s it. And the walls of the monastery will again hide him from the eyes of people, from all the passion that people can experience to him. And maybe someday he will be proclaimed a saint. For many, he was already so. First, because he did not want to know the sin, secondly, due to the fact that he was chosen to win over the devil.

      The head of the Order believed that he had already won. Donatello was sure that he made the right choice, as many and many heads of the Order were confident, when every few hundred years of their pointing finger snatched from the crowd the next favorite. Many of these people were canonized after

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