Spark in the darkness
The room was filled with silence, broken only by the ragged breathing of the wounded man on the makeshift operating table. Charlie looked at the soldiers, her face reflecting shock and curiosity. The silence was broken by a question from one of the soldiers.
“Sinners? Demons? What are you even talking about? Did someone here read the Bible way too much?!” – he asked in confusion.
Charlie, right here and now, saw how the once terrifying and enigmatic soldiers began to panic slightly; they exchanged uncertain glances.
“Yes! We are in Hell – more specifically, Pentagram City, the city in the circle of Pride,” – she tried to explain. “But who are you?”
The captain didn’t know what to say. For the first time in a very long while, he was speechless. Yes, they had seen the billboards saying “Welcome to Hell,” but they had been certain it was just some kind of stupid joke.
Suddenly, the squad leader reached for the helmet on his head. He unfastened the straps and removed it. Then, he pulled off the black balaclava that had hidden his face. Charlie flinched. The leader’s face bore a large scar over his left eye, he looked slightly exhausted. Yet, despite it all, it was a human face – unscarred by the influence of Hell.
“Humans…” – Vaggie whispered in shock.
“OMG, I’ve ALWAYS wanted to see humans!!!” – Charlie practically shouted in excitement. “But… how did you get here? Hell isn’t a place for the living; it’s a haven for dead souls!”
“That can wait,” – the doctor interrupted. “Sergeant SP2-1 needs a transfusion. His blood type is A-negative. We need a donor with same blood or someone with O type.”
“My blood will work—I’m O-negative,” – the captain said immediately.
“Absolutely not!” – the doctor objected. “In your condition, a transfusion could have prolonged negative effects!”
“As far as I know, there’s no one else here whose blood type matches,” – the captain said firmly, setting his helmet on the shelf and sitting in the chair next to the wounded man.
The doctor didn’t argue. He quickly prepared the equipment and set up the transfusion system. The needle pierced the captain’s vein, and blood began to flow slowly into the body of the wounded sergeant.
When the needle pierced the leader’s skin, Vaggie felt something strange, something… familiar.
“Is something wrong?” – Charlie asked in a whisper, noticing the change in her girlfriend’s demeanor.
“No, no, it’s… fine. Just some strange, familiar feeling, though I can’t quite place it,”—Vaggie replied quietly.
“Familiar? What do you mean?” – Charlie asked curiously.
“It’s like I’ve encountered it somewhere before… Don’t you feel it?” – Vaggie asked.
Charlie gave her a puzzled look but dropped the subject when the doctor resumed speaking.
“That’s it. You can’t give any more,” – he said to the captain. “His condition is stabilized, but it’s unclear when he’ll regain consciousness.”
“Understood. Pack the equipment, take one of the soldiers, and move the sergeant to the vehicle. We’re heading out.” – the captain ordered.
“You… can leave the wounded here,” – Charlie said hesitantly.
“Are you crazy?! Charlie, I love your optimism, but these people almost shot us all 20 MINUTES AGO!” – Vaggie tried to reason with her.
“No.” – the captain cut in. “We have unfinished business.”
“But what about the wounded?!” – Charlie exclaimed indignantly. “If I understand human physiology correctly, moving him in this state is dangerous!”
“I tend to agree with her, Cap,” – the doctor added. “In his condition, he needs rest and constant monitoring. In a combat situation, that’s impossible to provide.”
The captain understood that both the demon and the doctor were right. He knew Adam needed rest. But he couldn’t leave him who-knows-where, with who-knows-whom. Leaving the sergeant with these demons wasn’t an option.
“Captain, please,” – Charlie pleaded. “You don’t want to endanger him—I can see that! Moreover, you have nowhere to go; you know nothing about Hell! It can be dangerous here.”
“What business is it of yours?!” – Andrew retorted, but there was a note of doubt in his voice. “I won’t leave my soldier alone with demons!”
“I… I can stay with him,” – Father Miguel said.
The captain looked at the priest in surprise. Of course, Halo was willing to do a lot for his comrades, but to stay in a building with demons of Hell…
“Are you sure?” – the captain asked skeptically.
“Without a doubt, Captain,” – Miguel replied calmly. “I made a sacred vow to uphold the light even in the darkest times. Even if we are currently in the heart of darkness.”
Vaggie visibly darkened. There was no doubt—standing before her was a genuine priest. Someone who might sense something within her, someone who could uncover her deepest secret—her origin.
Meanwhile, Charlie radiated clear excitement. No surprise, as her dream was to redeem sinners of their sins, and here she was meeting an actual priest! There had never been a priest in Hell before! She already wanted to ask a thousand questions, but the captain didn’t give her the chance to start.
“A real priest, huh?” – Angel said with feigned enthusiasm. “The only ones I’ve seen around here were at themed parties in sex clubs! Will you absolve me of my sins, holy daddy?”
Miguel didn’t reply but gave him such a look that Angel felt extremely uncomfortable. Damn holy magic…
“Fine. Halo, you stay with SP2-1…” – the captain was interrupted by a faint groan. He turned and saw Lucas, the fourth SP2 soldier, collapse as his legs gave way. Corporal Logan, SP2’s machine gunner, standing behind him, caught him just in time.
“Get him into a chair,” – the captain commanded. “Doc, what’s wrong with him?”
“Dehydration, shrapnel wounds,” – the doctor responded. “He needs wound treatment and extended rest.”
Damn, this was bad. First Adam, now Lucas… The entire SP2 squad was depleted from the last battle and unable to conduct combat operations. “Damn it,” – he cursed, clenching his fist. What was he supposed to do? Two of his men were in critical condition, and the rest of the team was drained from the fight and the search for the missing. God knows how long they’d been stuck in this godforsaken place…
“Captain… as I said, you can stay at the hotel, or at least leave the wounded here. I personally guarantee nothing will happen to them within these walls.” – Charlie said softly.
“Demons guaranteeing safety,” – someone from SP1 scoffed behind the captain. “Hilarious.”
Charlie ignored the comment, keeping her eyes on the captain. “I know it sounds strange, but I want to help. Your people need time to recover. Otherwise, you risk losing them.”
The captain fell silent, thinking. It was a tough choice—risk his soldiers by trusting a demon or risk their lives again by taking them into another fight. After some thought, he finally spoke:
“Doc, Halo, you stay here with the wounded and the rest of SP2.”
The SP2 soldiers started to protest, but the captain cut them off: “This isn’t up for discussion. I’m ordering you to stay here and recover.”
“Thank you for trusting us, Captain,” – Charlie said with relief.
“It’s not trust—it’s the lesser of two evils,” – the captain replied curtly.
Charlie pressed her lips together but didn’t let her disappointment show. Instead, she simply nodded.
“I understand,” – she said quietly, stepping back. “I’ll do everything I can to ensure you don’t regret your choice.”
The captain didn’t respond, turning to the others.
“SP1, prepare to move out. We need to find the others, and I don’t want to waste another second.”
Shortly after, the soldiers climbed into their armored vehicles and drove away. Before leaving, the captain called Father Miguel aside and said something to him, but Charlie couldn’t hear what it was. Probably instructions in case something went wrong. Charlie watched the vehicles disappear into the distance for about five minutes before Vaggie approached her.
“Honestly, I don’t think letting them in was a good idea,” – Vaggie sighed, crossing her arms. “Human or not, they’re dangerous, and there’s nothing more dangerous than a human cornered. And these soldiers are definitely cornered—they’ve somehow ended up alive in literal HELL, surrounded by demons and everything else they thought was just a childhood story. Their leader even held a gun to your head, Charlie! Did you see his eyes?! He was ready to tear any of us apart with his bare hands!”
“Exactly, Vaggie! They’re lost, cornered, and we need to show them that things aren’t as bad as they seem! Yes, they were very aggressive, but that was mostly out of fear—fear of the unknown. You saw the reports on how they fought off hundreds of sinners in the ruined part of the city. They had no reason to believe they’d find anyone here who didn’t want them dead. As for the captain… Yes, he was… rough and even cruel, but I can see that it came from his desire to protect his own.” – Charlie said passionately.
“You’re too kind for Hell…” – Vaggie said, her gaze softening. “But please, stay alert. I don’t want to lose you.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful,” – Charlie reassured her, taking her hand.
Charlie knocked gently before stepping into the medical room. The doctor was sitting by the wounded soldier’s cot, his face weary, his gaze distant. Clearly, he’d been expending enormous effort to save the man’s life.
“Doctor?” – Charlie called softly.
The doctor snapped out of his trance and replied, “Yes, I’m here. Do you need something?”
“I just wanted to check on him,” – Charlie nodded toward the wounded sergeant lying on the cot.
“His condition is stable for now. But it’s too early to talk about recovery—his injuries are extensive,” – the doctor said.
“What about the other one?” – she asked immediately.
“He’s fine. I’ve treated his wounds; all he needs now is rest. If nothing happens, he’ll be back on his feet by morning,” – the doctor concluded dryly.
Charlie understood that none of these soldiers trusted them. They treated her and the rest in the hotel with extreme caution. But given the situation they found themselves in, it was understandable. It wasn’t every day you were plucked from your world and dropped into literal Hell. Yet, despite this, she hoped to earn their trust. Imagine that—meeting living humans whose fates were yet undecided. Humans who could truly change for the better. She hoped that this encounter would deepen her understanding of redemption. But for now, it was too early to hope for such things.
Leaving the medical room, Charlie peeked into the lounge. The television was off, but soldiers sat in the chairs and sofas. Some were bandaging themselves, others inspecting their gear. One soldier appeared to be cleaning his weapon, using a set of unfamiliar tools and disposable wipes.
Charlie headed to the kitchen and pulled out a large pot from one of the upper cabinets. She decided to make coffee. After setting it on the stove, she filled it with water and added coffee powder. Once the coffee was ready, she poured it into nine cups—for the soldiers, Vaggie, Angel, and herself.
Hoping a cup of hot coffee might ease the tension, she placed the cups on a tray and carried them to the lounge.
The soldiers froze as Charlie entered. Their gazes turned wary, following her every move, ready for an attack. She felt the tension wash over the room again but did her best to remain calm.
“Hi,” – she said with a gentle smile. “I thought you might like some coffee…”
She set the tray on the table, careful not to make eye contact for too long. The silence stretched, each second feeling like an eternity. Finally, one soldier, sitting in a corner, cautiously stood up, walked over, and took a cup.
“Thanks,” – he muttered briefly before returning to his chair.
The others followed his example, though without speaking. Charlie noticed that some of them still watched her warily, while one even checked the contents of his cup. The gesture stung slightly, but she understood—trust didn’t come easily.
When she left the lounge, she felt her shoulders relax. It was a small step, but she hoped it would help melt the ice between her and the newcomers.
The roar of gunfire and the growl of engines filled the air. A lone MRAP raced through the shattered streets, pursued by three vehicles firing relentlessly. The turret-mounted heavy machine gun spat bullets without pause, trying to fend off the attackers.
“Shit, shit, shit!” – Private Ares cursed, gripping the trigger of the mounted M2 Browning. “Where the hell did all of you bastards come from?!”
“Less talking, more shooting!” – shouted his comrade David over the radio, slamming the gas pedal to the floor and swerving the vehicle. The MRAP veered into an alley, narrowly missing the walls of the buildings.
In the passenger seat, Sergeant Lewis fired his HK416, quickly reloading fresh magazines.
“If we’re lucky, we’ll live long enough to hear more of your bitching, Ares,” – he quipped, poking his rifle out the window.
“Consider it your fucking soundtrack,” – Ares shot back, continuing to spray rounds.
Finally, one of the pursuing vehicles exploded.
“Got one! Did you see that?!” – Ares shouted triumphantly.
But the celebration was short-lived. From the top hatch of one of the remaining vehicles, a figure emerged wielding a rocket launcher.
“GET DOWN!” – Lewis yelled, spotting the flash.
A split second later, the projectile struck the MRAP’s rear. The deafening explosion tore apart the rear axle, sending the vehicle into an uncontrolled spin. The metal behemoth slammed into a wall, leaving a deep scar in the brickwork.
The driver’s window cracked, and the engine sputtered before dying. David slumped forward, his head hitting the steering wheel, but his helmet absorbed the blow.
“Everyone okay?!” – he shouted, unbuckling his harness.
“ALIVE AND KICKING!” – Ares yelled, hauling the heavy machine gun off the turret.
“I’m good!” – Lewis replied, climbing out of the vehicle.
“The MRAP’s toast. Buy me a few minutes to log our retreat route into the system in case our guys come looking for us,” – David instructed.
Ares set up the machine gun in a makeshift defensive position near the wrecked MRAP.
“Come on, you motherfuckers, get closer. I’ll drop every last one of you!” – he growled.
The pursuers didn’t hesitate, disembarking with crude, improvised weapons. The battle resumed, bullets screaming through the air.
Lewis covered the left flank, while Ares tore through the attackers with the M2’s thunderous fire.
A grenade exploded dangerously close, showering them with debris.
“Damn it, we’re getting pinned down!” – Lewis yelled, dropping an enemy attempting to flank them.
“David, quit messing with your fucking toys and let’s get the hell out of here!” – Ares bellowed.
“All set! Move out!” – David responded.
The soldiers retreated, leaving behind the disabled MRAP and their adversaries.
The atmosphere in the hotel was heavy, and Charlie decided to get some fresh air. She called the elevator, pressed the top button, and rode it to the very top. Exiting the elevator, she climbed the stairs and stepped onto the roof. To her surprise, not far from the edge stood a priest whom the captain had referred to as “Halo.”
“Despite this literally being Hell – the view is rather captivating,” – Father Miguel said, sensing Charlie’s presence.
“I didn’t expect to see you here. Halo, right?” – Charlie asked.
“No, no, that’s just a callsign. Sort of a nickname, if you will,” – the priest replied, pausing for a moment to decide. “Miguel. Father Miguel,” – he introduced himself. “And what’s your name, child?”
“Nice to meet you, Father Miguel. You can call me Charlie!” – she said with enthusiasm.
“Well then, nice to meet you, Charlie. What brings you to the rooftop at this late hour?” – Miguel inquired.
“Honestly, I just wanted some fresh air and happened to run into you,” – she answered. “Are you really a priest?”
“In recent years, it’s taken a back seat, but yes, I’m a priest,” – Miguel said.
“To be honest, I’ve always wanted to meet a living person and even talk to a priest. I never thought it would be possible. A priest in Hell… Unbelievable!” – Charlie admitted.
“I agree, it’s quite an ironic situation,” – Miguel replied, and for a split second, a faint smile appeared on his face.
“You don’t seem afraid of me. The rest of your team reacts… hostilely?” – Charlie asked.
“I have nothing to fear, for God is with me,” – Miguel said calmly. “And I can sense the intentions of others, and you don’t seem like any kind of evil.”
His words boosted Charlie’s confidence a little. Finally, a person who didn’t treat her as a threat. A person whose eyes didn’t show caution or, rather, fear like before a dangerous predator. A person willing to talk.
“You know, I’ve often thought it would be wonderful to meet a priest and ask questions. I never thought I’d see one in Hell…” – Charlie said.
“Perhaps today is your lucky day,” – Miguel replied with a slight smile. “Ask your questions.”
“I’ve heard that priests can forgive people’s sins. You just wave your hand, and they’re absolved?!” – Charlie asked hopefully.
“I’m afraid it’s not as simple as it seems,” – Miguel said with a faint chuckle. “Yes, priests can forgive another person’s sins. But for that, they must confess, admit their sins, understand that it is a sin, and sincerely regret what they have done. And if these conditions are met, if the person is willing to change – their sins will be forgiven,” – the priest explained.
Charlie looked slightly disappointed. Of course, it couldn’t be that simple.
“How did you become a priest? Do you decide for yourself, or does Heaven appoint you?” – Charlie asked curiously.
“Heaven? No, definitely not,” – Miguel chuckled, shaking his head. “Becoming a priest is not a command, not a decree of a higher power. It’s a choice. A choice to dedicate yourself to people, to help them. To help them keep the light within themselves even in the darkest times, to help guide them on the right path,” – Miguel continued, gazing thoughtfully into the distance.
“But why? Why did you decide to dedicate your life to this? And how did you end up becoming a soldier?” – Charlie asked her next question.
“My life was connected to the army even before I became a priest. I was born into a relatively small family in a mountainous country. I never knew my father; he died shortly after my birth from a heart attack. I had two older brothers; they always looked after me and were a pillar of support for our mother. We weren’t wealthy, but there was always enough for bread and butter. Everything was good; I was happy with my family. But all good things come to an end…” – Miguel took a deep breath, clasped his hands behind his back, and then continued.
“A cataclysm, the collapse of a great country, the emergence of new ones – all this cannot pass without a trace. Many years ago, in the region where I lived with my family, there was a devastating earthquake. In an instant, entire cities and villages vanished from the face of the earth. That’s how I lost my first brother. As eyewitnesses told me – he died saving a child from a collapsing building. My other brother and I brought his body home, where we buried him. I’ll never forget my mother’s tears, how she wept…” – the priest fell silent, his head bowed.
“Miguel, you don’t have to recall this…” – Charlie said quietly.
“We barely made ends meet; there was hardly enough money for food. But humanity wouldn’t be humanity if it didn’t look for a way out of any situation. We endured all hardships with resilience, but one day the country we were a part of disappeared from the world map. New ones emerged, and this process was far from peaceful. War broke out. My brother and I were drafted into the newly formed army to defend our homeland. Those with whom we had once shared bread turned against us. They killed the defenseless, beheaded the elderly, women, and children. It was a massacre. My brother was extraordinarily brave; he was selfless. By the law of misfortune, it’s the brave who leave first. He defended his position valiantly, but the odds were against him. The enemy advanced from all sides; we were the last ones alive in our unit,” – Miguel froze, as if he were back in the heat of battle. His voice became quieter, cracked, as if every word was a struggle.
“I remember how he turned to me. There was no fear in his eyes, only resolve. ‘Run, you’re needed by our mother. You must live,’ – those were his last words. I didn’t want to leave, but he pushed me so hard that I fell. And then I saw him pull the pin from a grenade…”
The priest closed his eyes for a moment, trying to banish the memory etched into his mind.
“He waited until the enemies came closer. They shouted, waved their weapons, as if already celebrating their victory. But my brother… he didn’t even flinch. The last thing I saw was his face. It didn’t show fear or terror. He smiled at me, and I ran. And then…”
Miguel took a deep breath before continuing.
“There was an explosion. I looked back and saw the enemies falling lifeless, a cloud of dust and debris rising into the air. That was the death of my second brother. I returned home; I was given a week’s leave. But it turned out there was no home to return to. A bomb had hit the house where my mother lived, killing her instantly. From then on, I didn’t live; I merely existed... I returned to the fight. I plunged into the most dangerous situations, the most reckless ventures. I sought only death. But it seems the Lord had an entirely different plan for me. We won, we defended our home, but the price was too great for me. I didn’t know how to live on—I had nothing and no one to live for. I lost all meaning, all faith in something better.
One evening, I was sitting at the table in a motel room. In my hands was a pistol with just one bullet. I drank a lot to rid myself of any fear of death. But then I heard my mother’s voice. She said that I must live. She said I didn’t survive just to throw everything away like this. I froze. Her voice was so clear, as if she were standing right behind me. I remembered the last words of my second brother. On that fateful day, he told me: 'Don’t be afraid. Fight and never give up.' And I listened to him.
I realized that everything I had lost wasn’t the end. It was a beginning—the start of a new path. I couldn’t bring back my loved ones, but I could help others, those who, like me, had lost everything. I could become their support, a light to help them escape the darkness.
The next day, I came to a church. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but my heart led me there. There, before the altar, I vowed to dedicate my life to serving others. I decided that if the Lord had spared me, I must use this chance to do good, to comfort those who had endured war, loss, and pain.”
Miguel finished his story. He turned around, his expression neutral, but the pain in his eyes was unmistakable.
Charlie stared at him, her wide eyes brimming with sympathetic tears. "But… why did you tell me this?" she asked quietly.
“Because you asked. 'You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.' John 8:32,” the priest replied calmly.
“I never thought that people on Earth go through such suffering. I thought everyone was happy there,” Charlie said sadly.
“That’s life, Charlie. But it’s precisely because of its dark moments that you begin to truly value the light. And sometimes, to see it, you have to go through the very heart of darkness,” – the priest said with a somber smile.
“But how do you find that light when everything around you is darkness? How do you not give up when even your efforts seem pointless?” – Her voice trembled, and she looked at the priest, hoping for an answer.
Miguel looked at her again, his gaze full of warmth and confidence.
“Light isn’t always bright. Sometimes it’s just a spark—a small glimmer you barely notice. But it’s there. And if you look for it, if you believe, it will grow brighter over time. Every step forward, every sincere attempt to make the world a better place—that’s the light.”
“You know, I really want to change Hell. Every year, Heaven’s army, the exorcists, descend to us and destroy sinners. For many years, I watched this, powerless to do anything. Then one day, I had an idea—to create a place where sinners could rehabilitate and eventually make it to Heaven. But every time I share this idea, I’m met with nothing but ridicule. Maybe this idea really is foolish...” – Charlie said sadly. She didn’t even understand why, but she wanted to share her darkest thoughts and one of her deepest fears with this man.
The priest stroked his beard, chuckled slightly, and then said, “I don’t think your idea lacks merit. The desire to help others is very noble. In my experience, anyone who truly realizes their sins and genuinely seeks redemption will find it, for the Lord is merciful. It doesn’t matter how heavy your sin is; what matters is the desire to atone and the sincere regret for what was done. 'Return to the Lord your God, for He is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.' Joel 2:13. And I don’t think there’s a difference between redeeming the sins of a living soul or one that’s already gone.”
Charlie smiled faintly. If even a messenger of God didn’t deny the possibility of redemption, then perhaps all was not lost. “Thank you, Father Miguel. I needed to hear that,” Charlie said timidly.
“Always happy to help, Charlie,” – the priest said with a soft smile. “By the way, I’m not sure I caught your last name.”
Charlie’s heart froze. In any other situation, she wouldn’t have thought twice about this question, but here... A priest stood before her. Who knows how he might react?
“I... Are you sure you want to know?” – Charlie asked cautiously. In an instant, she could lose all the tiny fragments of trust she had. “I’m afraid this might change how you see me.”
“Your origin doesn’t matter, child. Only your actions and your choices do,” – Miguel said softly but firmly, looking at Charlie.
She swallowed nervously, feeling the weight of the moment pressing on her. It felt as if her breath had stopped.
“My last name... is Morningstar,” – she finally whispered, bracing herself for his gaze to change, for his expression to become wary or even hostile.
Miguel was silent for a few seconds. Then he slightly raised his eyebrows, clearly pondering her words, but his face remained calm.
“Morningstar...” – he repeated. “An interesting surname.”
“You… you understand what it means?” – Charlie couldn’t believe his composure.
“I do, Charlie,” – Miguel replied. “I understand perfectly. But your name doesn’t define your soul, just as my robes don’t automatically make me a saint. You stand here, trying to find your path, and that already says a lot.”
“You’re not disappointed?” – she asked in disbelief.
"I’ve met people, Charlie, who have done horrifying things, and none of them had the last name Morningstar,” – Miguel said with a slight smile. “Your father is your father, and you are you. You don’t have to be a shadow of someone else’s mistakes.”
Miguel’s words touched Charlie’s heart. She felt the tension begin to ease.
“Thank you...” – she said quietly, feeling a tiny spark of hope ignite within her.
“No need to thank me,” – the priest replied. "Keep moving forward, Charlie. Carry the light, even when all around you is darkness."
“Truly, thank you for listening. You’re the only one in your group so far who has been willing to reach out. Your captain...”
“The captain does everything necessary to protect the people entrusted to him. Yes, he can be harsh, but only because he truly cares about everyone in the squad. Give him time, and maybe you’ll find common ground,” – the priest said to Charlie.