PROLOGUE

Romania, Chilia Veche, Tulcea County

(The old Hermitage)

The cold snowstorm of the winter seemed to conceal every sign of a  living being. The world seemed abandoned and forgotten like a dessert of pure white of nothingness. In a part of the world where time seemed to be frozen and God seemed to be forgotten a handful of people still awaits the coming of the saviour. In the massive church of that village, the same handful of people is attending the Sunday service. The building is made of concrete and brick which makes it tremendously cold on the days of winter. So, the priest cut the service short and skipped the final blessing for a speech of warning.

<Today is the first day of the week, just before the day of our church’s patrons. This Sunday is a day with great spiritual significance knowing that angels are the one who fights against witchcraft and destroys spells to protect us from demon’s evil. But you, you are serving the evil, you sold your souls only to do evil to your neighbour! Aren’t they your brothers? No one should say that is clean of this. Brother, if you haven’t done this sin, you’ve done many others in your life. So, why should you be proud? You’ll see that you’ve done exactly this crime that you condemn it so much. Let’s say that someone made you mad and you wished upon him a bad day, an accident, a failure or you wished his house to burn or even death. Then you will found out that his house had been robbed or burned or he had an accident or he died. Then you’ll say that it was God’s will, that He gave him a punishment. NO, not God gave him that! It has accomplished by your demon who left you when you wished all that evil. So, in this way you’ve done witchcraft, without even knowing.

Women and men fall into this trap. Many of them try to return but don’t know how. That is hatred of spirit, for the hate of God they do it! Shake it off! Our Lord is good and forgiving, but He is also just. I am telling you, difficult days are coming, repent as long as  you still have time!>The old, imposing building, increased his voice and made him sound like thunder, resembling fear and obedience, making the whole building vibrate. But the old church still held haughty better than two centuries; it resisted the second war and the tartar’s desecration it will survive a long time from now against witches and demons and all other obstacles that are to come. Although forgotten by believers it was never devoid by candlelight or fragrance incense which shows the survival of pure souls, enlightened like silver through sorrow’s fire. People are still coming to church, to light a candle or to fill candela’s fuel; children that lost their parents too early or parents that’s been forgotten by their children who moved to cities for a better future. For health, for forgiveness or reconciliation, incense still burns in colder days. After all, what would not give a man in exchange for his soul?

Winter’s pure white dressed the village like a robe of christening, immersing it in a sacred silence. Not a  living being dared to trample and denigrate its beauty. But the service finished and the handful of people who participated was heading for home, they looked like hungry ants on a white tablecloth desperately searching for leftovers or crumbs. The building remains as a monk in pray. It doesn’t even know what bliss will come upon it.