Apostazia:The Marcherelli chronicle
Chapter 8 : “Ashes of trust.”
"When loyalty fractures and secrets surface, even salvation can turn into betrayal."
Location: Switzerland:Alps/Col de Resia - France:Nice .
Time: October 28 th -November 12 th 1997.
FILE REF: A08 – Informant Contact :Sveta-Esteban Galvano
Switzerland/Alp montains -October 28th /Dawn 06:30 a.m:
The jet Interpol air blades carved through the thin Alpine air, scattering snow into swirling halos. Inside; Raphael sat stiff-backed, eyes locked on the jagged horizon. Esteban lounged opposite him, though the faint tension in his jaw betrayed the act. Six Interpol men flanked them, rifles cradled, helmets reflecting the dim red cabin lights.
Raphael checked his phone again,one message glowed on the cracked screen.
"Bertolis cancelled their adventure. She's here; don't waste time.'" V.R.
'Renner'
The damn mercenary always knew more than he said, but Raphael had learned not to question his leads. He folded the phone shut; pushed it back into his coat, and let the weight of the mission settle like the mountain mist:
Secure the girl.
Avoid bloodshed.
Meanwhile:
Far below, Vittorio Marcherelli stood before his men in a windswept clearing carved into the forest. Mask on, voice like steel dragged over gravel.
"She's running away and injured; this time the Bertolis came prepared for her; but she still dangerous," he said, the Craws circled around him, bristling with weapons. "Split into three units. No mistakes this time."
Kurtis stood apart, coat collar high, silent. His Chirugai lay hidden at his hip ; unseen, but heavy with expectation.
Vittorio's gaze cut toward him. "Renner; you'll lead east flank." Kurtis inclined his head but said nothing .
His real plan was already clear in his mind.
When the groups dispersed into the snow-dark woods, he thumbed the Chirugai free; just enough to feel the resonance hum in his palm. The relic vibrated faintly, pulled toward the last trace of Morgau's grasp.
It was in her grasp before, tried to bend it to her will, and the relic remembers. It always returns to its last master. Unless... he let it go.
And tonight, he would.
After following the long run that the Chirugai sliced the air through, and follow the blood trail.
He found her .
How lucky; as he hoped.
But she was waiting ; crouched within the hollow ruin of a half-buried chapel, snow drifting in through broken arches. Her white hair framed her face in wild strands, her eyes like glass when the light struck. In her hands, the weapon she had taken from the stronghold; a two-bladed spear-axe, wicked as death itself.
"Salutes!Brother," she spat, voice ragged with fury.
"Chimoya," he said evenly. "You need to stop running."
She spun the axe, blades whistling. "You need to stop lying.....And that; is not even my real name."
The first strike came fast ; the axe carving arcs through stone, shattering old pews. Kurtis dodged, rolled, drew his knives. Sparks erupted as steel met steel, he moved defensively, always careful, every block meant to redirect rather than wound. But Morgau pressed, relentless; rage fueling precision.
"Where is she!!!!" she screamed, blow after blow. "Where did your Damn family hid her!"
Kurtis locked her weapon against his forearm, teeth bared. "cease this foolishness, you'll drag everyone into danger."
Her scream cut the night. "I don't care! I would've killed you if you weren't so important ."
Her eyes flared, transparent like living crystal, hair lifting with invisible force. The axe blades shimmered as if charged with her will, and for a heartbeat Kurtis felt the weight of her power crush against his defenses. He was stronger, but she had the fury.
And still... he pitied her.
During that fight:
Snow exploded around them as boots hit the ground, the helicopter rose back into the storm while Raphael and his unit advanced into the tree line. Gunfire cracked almost immediately ; Craws descending from the dark like predators.
"Cover!" Esteban barked, dragging one Interpol man down behind a ridge. The second went down in a scream; cut by a burst of automatic fire,and the others spead like spilled water over a suface.
Raphael returned fire, advancing, his blood pounded with singular focus; get through, find her.
Then the woods fell strangely silent.
A figure stepped out ; masked, tall, carrying only his fists.
"Out of my way," Raphael growled, raising his rifle.
The man tilted his head with a grin. "You're the one on the way."
Raphael fired ;the stranger closed the distance in a blur, striking the rifle aside, slamming a fist into his ribs. They grappled hard, Raphael throwing trained strikes, but the masked man read every move before it landed. Counter, parry, strike. it was like fighting a mirror; one that had practiced his rhythm a thousand times longer.
Raphael's jaw cracked under a blow, blood in his mouth. He swung wild, desperate, but was floored by a brutal kick.
The masked man stood over him, breath even. For a moment, Raphael thought he saw hesitation; Familiarity, then a sharp jab to the temple sent the world reeling.
When he blinked awake, the man was gone.
4 Minutes later
He forced himself forward through the trees, staggering on adrenaline, until the ruins came into view; the scene unfolded in chaos:
Morgau, limping, her leg twisted by a Craw's boot.
Kurtis, chest heaving, blades ready but slowing.
Vittorio striding forward, seizing Morgau by the hair.
"This is not golden... and looks younger then the description." Vittorio hissed, studying her eyes.
Raphael didn't think; he charged.
The clash was vicious, Raphael's fists and blade slamming against the masked commander. Esteban joined, dragging Craws away from the girl; covering them with gunfire.
But Morgau, in desperation, had seized the Chirugai from Kurtis's belt with a quick move. She flung it ; wild, uncontrolled.
The relic sliced through the air, grazing Vittorio ,but cutting deep into Raphael's Arm. His cry echoed through the ruins as blood poured.
And then ; it circled back as it supposed to like a Boomerang Straight into Morgau's midsection.
She gasped, fell to her knees; the axe clattering from her grasp.
Raphael stumbled toward her, clutching his wound. "No... no, no! stay with me................."
Her body sagged in his arms, blood soaking the snow.
Esteban's voice shouted somewhere behind him: "She's gone, Raphael, she's dead!"
Kurtis took advantage of the chaos and snapped back the Chirugai to his had behind his back.
Vittorio's hand twitched ;a signal. The Craws withdrew into the shadows, dragging their dead, Kurtis vanishing with them .
And Raphael was left kneeling in the snow, he felt world collapsing.
Until...
A cough; wet, broken.
Morgau's eyes flickered open, blood staining her lips.
And then headlights, shouts, boots ; Sveta emerging with fresh agents, crates of supplies, a savior's timing.
"Get her up! Hurry!" she barked, her face unreadable.
Raphael's hands shook as they lifted Morgau onto a stretcher, the snow painted red where she'd lain
They took her straight to the nearest hospital. She was suspended between life and death; her body unresponsive, her breath shallow, machines keeping the rhythm steady where her heart could not.
For fourteen long days she lingered in that silence. Everyday, Raphael came to stand at her bedside, his wound was treated it wasn't too far bad from hers knowing he was cut by and ancient artifect named after the concet of' Surgery' ,but his body managed to recover quickly than hers,meanwhile he spent the days watching the stillness of her face, wondering if she even will open her eyes again.
Once the fourteenth day ended, Sveta announced her decision: Morgau would be moved to Paris, by Interpol custody, even if she had not yet opened her eyes. It was "protocol," she said;better oversight, tighter control.
"Besides .....her tools aren't useable;at all." Esteban added while holding Morgau satchel and the bolted axe.
Raphael snapped; his objection was not calm, not diplomatic, his voice cut through the hospital corridor, raw and heated.
"Paris?" he said, nearly spitting the word. "Are you out of your mind?! That will kill her. She needs proper care ; not politics, not your handlers waiting to tear her apart." His tone cut through the air, unflinching.
For a moment it seemed he might draw on Sveta herself if pressed.
"Take it easy, man." Esteban tried to calm him.
"In Nice the health care system is better and more serious about peopel's life." Raphael said it with a lower tone this time.
Sveta measured him with that flat, unreadable stare of hers; silence stretched until it felt like the walls themselves were listening.
Finally, she exhaled slowly and gave a single, reluctant nod.
"Fine.......She'll be taken to Nice."
France- Nice- November 10th :
Raphael didn't wait for more. He arranged everything with a confidence born not of rank but of roots. Nice was his ground ; the streets and wards remembered him, and when he carried Morgau in, doors opened without questions. Doctors who knew his family name bent rules, staff whispered respect. His indulgence there was not authority, but something deeper; woven into the city itself. And under his watch, her life steadied.
When Morgau finally stirred, it was in that quiet hospital room by the coast, the muted hum of machines giving way to the sound of her breathing on her own. She blinked against the pale light, disoriented couldn't move but alive.
The next day ,she opened her eyes full to a haze of white light and antiseptic air. The first faces she saw were strangers ; Sveta, arms folded and eyes sharp, and Esteban, hovering at the foot of the bed with cautious relief.
Her hands tightened on the sheets, body coiling like a cornered animal. "Where am I?" she rasped, her voice still raw. "Safe," Sveta said flatly. "You're in Nice. Alive, thanks to him." She inclined her head toward the door.
Raphael stepped in, silent, carrying a tray. The smell of broth followed him.
Morgau's eyes widened in recognition ; memory flashing back to the snow, the masked men, the chaos, him.
He was already at her side after he entered, he approached the bed. He stopped a pace away, he didn't speak immediately;he let her eyes find him, let her register that she had survived. Only then did his expression soften ; the sharp lines of battle giving way to something unguarded.
She flinched when the chair pulled close; He sat and leaned forward, hands clasped, as if bracing himself, his tone gentle. "You don't need to fight here. Just... eat. Rest."
That night, outside the hospital as she was about to leave, Sveta stopped at the car door. She instructed Raphael to hand Morgau over to the agents within five days, adding quiet directions on how to conclude his service contract. Raphael listened in silence, offering no reply.
Then suddenly
"Sveta....can I ask you something?" he said in a serious tone.
Sveta looked at him, knowing he was about to ask the very question she dreaded during her time with him.
"Why this girl and not the other trafficked girls?"This was the question Louis Bouchard dared him to ask .
A fleeting smirk curved at the corner of her mouth, followed by a steady look into his eyes.
" You already saw with your own eyes what this girl is capable of.....I think that witness is enough of an answer."
She climbed into the car, closed the door, then lowered the window.
"Your mission with the Interpol is done here, and you did well. Just wait for our signal so you can get your paycheck.....and who knows ,I may work with you again."
The car took off and Left Raphael behind with more question than answers.
For days later, Morgau's eyes tracked him warily, suspicion never leaving. She let Sveta and Esteban linger, but whenever Raphael came near, her body stiffened, the walls went up.
And yet, he stayed.
Oneday ,he sat at her side; holding a spoon steady when her hands trembled, Morgau reluctant but too weak to resist.
Some evenings he tried coaxing her out of bed, supporting her steps down the ward's quiet corridor, his hand firm on her shoulder when she staggered.
At a market by the promenade, he held out a yellow, black, and beige jacket. She shook her head, defiant, lips pressed tight. He didn't push, just draped it over a chair. Hours later, she slipped it on silently when the night grew cold.
Little by little, resistance softened into silence, silence into glances, glances into trust.
In the last afternoon, while the sun slanted through the blinds, Raphael asked softly:
"What's your real name?"
She hesitated, studying him, as though giving it away might cost her everything. Finally:
"Morgau.... Vasiley."
He reached out, his hand waiting for grab. "Raphael."
Apause, she didn't move; only her gaze laced with a silent scorn. "I know."
He pulled his hand back with a clumsy chuckel.
"Ha ha ha! .....you heard the nurses calling my name."
her lips curved in a faint, almost mocking smirk.
They shared the silence until she broke it with a whisper. "I'm sorry..... About your arm; the Chirugai."
He smiled, light but genuine, shaking his head. " This arm had worse, trust me."
Esteban suddenly came with the nurse and brought dinner with him. After the check, Esteban ate at the table besides the bed;while Raphael sat beside Morgau and assissted her.
Later on he leaned back in the chair, eyes tracing the ceiling as though the past was written there. "My odds growing up here were worse than hers," he said, nodding vaguely toward Sveta's absence.
"But sometimes, I remember the good days; my father teaching me how to ride a bike, the wind down the hills, the feeling that, just for a while, things were normal."
"I thought you were Born In Paris.....I do remember when you came to live in Amalfi with your parents....." Esteban said as he collected the take away boxes.
"Yes, I do remember that too, you weren't too friendly, and Greta was so into me back then....."
"Wait.........Really? you didn't tell me that.....I'll ask her when I returne to Italy Tomorrow."
"Yes , you do that and message me what she said later." Raphael said with a smirk ,messing out with his friend.
Morgau listened to their discussion, unreadable. Then, at length, she murmured: "I can't recall much of my childhood either. What I do... it's fragments, shadows."
They stopped their banter and listened.
She finally spoke, her voice thin, almost breaking. "I ran away from home,I always do . But this time was different; I went to look for her, for my sister, my older sister. I thought if I could find her, maybe... maybe everything would make sense again. But when I went back to him for support, my father... he disclaimed me; told me she was dead, years gone. He said I was wasting myself chasing a ghost no one else believed in."
Her eyes glistened as she looked away. "Everyone thought I was mad. And then... then there was him. That Heistrrum jerk; always talking in riddles, acting like he knew better, I didn't dare to confront his father, but when I did claimed the same old th......"
"Because it's the truth," Esteban cut in suddenly, his voice sharp from the corner of the room; he stepped forward, gaze fixed on her, something grim flickering behind his eyes. "And that's what your father said when he came looking for you ten months ago; you should have gone back, you only made it worse for yourself; look at you now."
Morgau's lips parted, startled. She wanted to push further, to demand more, but Esteban turned from her with a cold shake of his head. "Rest. You've said enough."
He left without waiting for an answer, the door clicked shut behind him; his footsteps fading quickly down the hall.
Raphael exhaled, a muscle tightening in his jaw. He glanced at Morgau, who had sunk deeper into her pillow, pale and exhausted, and smoothed the blanket over her with a tenderness that belied the storm brewing in his chest.
Meanwhile, down the corridor; Esteban's stride didn't falter. He pulled out his phone, thumbed a number he had kept close, and waited until the line picked up,his voice was low, conspiratorial. "Raphael is getting too close; he's putting pieces together. You were right;he must be stopped."
The line clicked, and Esteban pocketed the phone, his expression unreadable as he disappeared into the hospital's long hallways.
Back in Morgau's room
From his pocket, Raphael pulled out a crumpled paper plane. He unfolded it carefully, laying it on the blanket. "You met Janice," he said.
Morgau's eyes sharpened. "You... you know her?"
He nodded. "I heard you were looking for someone. Is it... her name written here? you sister?"
He turned the plane, revealing the word: 'Samael.'
Her lips parted, but no words came at first. She bit them, fear flashing through her expression. Fear of judgment; fear he would twist this against her.
But Raphael's gaze was steady, patient.
Finally, she whispered: "Yes, that's her name; Samael. We grew up together for a while. She played with me, brushed my hair, my stepmother would tell us stories... warriors, princesses, lullabies. She had unearthly golden hair..... I still have something of hers."
She reached into her satchel in the drawer; pulling out a small harmonica, turning it over in her hand, she added softly: "I want to see her again, to give this back. But, father could be right... why didn't she ever come looking for me?"
Raphael didn't answer. Instead, he asked:
"Who's William Dahl?"
Her face tightened. For a long moment, he thought she wouldn't reply. Then, in a whisper: "He knows where Samael is. He said... he'll help me find her; in November."
Raphael's mind snapped back to Sveta ; her cold insistence that everything must end before mid-November, her claim of ignorance about Dahl, the lies unspooled before him. Something was coming; something she hadn't told him.
But he said nothing.
His earpiece buzzed. Sveta's voice crackled through: "Raphael. It's time; bring her in, Interpol is waiting."
He tore it out, staring at the device for a beat, then tossed it into the garbage.
Turning to Morgau, he met her eyes; firm but not unkind.
"Let's go find your sister."
Morgau froze; shock, disbelief, then something breaking loose inside her.
"You... believe me?" she whispered.
Raphael allowed a ghost of a smile curling at the the corner of his lips.
"Men like Dahl won't declare something unless they know it's true."
Then she finally accept his hand of help and decides to fully trust him.
End of chapter 8
To be continued..................................................
Morgau Vasiley dairy:
"They think they can chain me, bury me, break me… but I’ve lived in cages before. The only thing I fear is silence; the day I’ll never hear her voice again."