"Oh God! 😱 I'm so excited, I'm so excited. I've been waiting for this chapter to come out!"
⚠️ Warning ⚠️This chapter may contain delicate topics related to sociocultural issues from different countries, as well as sensitive subjects involving religion and faith: Judaism, Christianity, Catholicism, and the Messianic branch. The author does not intend to provoke or sensationalize, and reader discretion is advised.
📝 Author's Note 📝"Oh God! I'm so excited, I'm so excited. I've been waiting for this chapter to come out, and believe me, I've spent almost an entire week working on it to bring you what's new.We're already halfway through the Kosmogenesis volume, and some very important things are coming. Once Kosmogenesis ends, get ready… because that's when the real chaos begins."
I've translated it as best I could, and I should clarify that Portuguese isn't directly related to English. It has more affinity with Spanish, so I ask you to keep that in mind.
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The rain pounded hard, flooding the path. The leaves of the trees were soaked with every violent drop that bounced off the muddy ground and the puddles forming along the way.
In the distance, a woman moved carefully, closing the door behind her as if she wished to erase herself from the world.
When she reached the last step of the house, she stopped. Just a few seconds. She looked back at the path — a straight, wet, drenched line. Then her eyes settled on the house she was leaving behind. She clenched her teeth.
The pain in her chest pushed her to run. Each step through the mud felt like the heartbeat of her anguish; every splash that stained her beautiful dress seemed to prove something… or remind herself that she still could.
Tears streamed down her cheeks; the weight of her sin tormented her. She didn't look back. She ran as if escaping something.
The surroundings were rural, and from the faint logo she could make out, it might have been a German company… but this wasn't Germany. The trees were thick and sprawling, like a jungle surrounding the manor. This couldn't be Germany.
She thought again and again,"I just hope Mom and Mateo can be okay without me…"
She kept running down the path without stopping. She didn't seem to be heading nowhere — she had a destination: the nearest neighbor, a fruit vendor who was just about to leave for the city. Each step brought her closer to her escape.
The splashing mud and the water striking her legs accompanied her urgency, as if the whole world were moving with her.
Once in the truck, her features became clearer under the faint beam of light escaping from the broken headlight.
To strangers, she might have looked like a woman — almost a lady — but in truth, she was a young girl. Her genetics gave her Afro-descendant traits: full lips, slightly curly hair...
…fluffy, and a soft dress with a floral pattern. Her black shoes were covered in mud.The truck was packed with workers — men with sun-tanned skin, weary bodies, wearing little more than a shirt in the heat, chatting, hauling sacks, lighting cigarettes.
To her, every unfamiliar face was a chance to go unnoticed.
Everything changed when a man spoke from the cab:
"'Amor, onde você vai descer?" (Love, where are you getting off?)
She lifted her gaze and answered firmly,"Vou ao Mercado do Brás." (I'm going to the Brás Market.)
The language, the scenery, the light clothing that revealed both cold and heat, the loading line, the weathered faces of the men… and the girl's features — delicate yet determined
left no doubt: this was Brazil.
Brazil, São Paulo, 1946."
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She had an absent look in her eyes. The way she clenched her fingers showed she was making a risky decision. Her expression reflected composure… but also a certain ignorance of what was to come. In the end, we learned her name: Luzia.
While the heavy rain poured down in the early morning of São Paulo, thousands of kilometers away, in Vermont, the situation of the saints remained uncertain: Dánae was resting, Jack was dealing with burns that still hadn't fully healed, and Adelaida endured the treatment for her leg, still walking with a slight limp.
By Kamei-san's orders, Adelaida gathered the roots needed for Dánae and Jack's recovery.As she worked, she carefully assessed the situation. She was an expert at staying calm in tense moments; her sisters almost always fought, and she had to be the anchor that held the peace together.
"I just peeked into the girl's room to see how she was doing, and it broke my heart to see her throwing up.She got severely dehydrated… she vomited nine times. She's in bad shape.Thank God the nausea has stopped a little, but it could come back at any moment.
Now Kamei-san is giving her a serum made with collagen…I just hope the girl recovers."
Inside the cabin, Jack and Nuriel stayed in the living room, trying to communicate. The language barrier made every word sound awkward and frustrating.Jack thought:"It was hard enough learning with Dánae, but at least now we can talk…And now I have to learn another language just to talk to this guy?"
"Why does everything have to be so damn complicated?"
Nuriel reflected:
"This man fought Galton and took him down like it was nothing…How dangerous could he really be?And does he even have the mental stability to make talking to him worth it?"
Kamei-san interrupted, switching between languages as needed:"Guys, we need to get along. Neither of you understands the other, and that's a problem."
Luckily, he didn't have to worry too much about Adelaida; by divine intervention, she seemed to have received the ability to understand the languages Galton spoke. Nuriel wasn't blessed with that grace, so they would have to resume training.
He looked at Jack first:"You'll have to learn Polish and Italian."
Then he turned to Nuriel:"And you… you'll need to learn English, Chinese, and Russian so you can communicate with Dánae and Jack."
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Meanwhile, Dánae was sleeping deeply.She dreamed of her mother and father walking away, leaving and never coming back.
The dream turned dark: she found herself lying on an empty floor, surrounded by nothing, as if the world itself had vanished.
Dánae woke up suddenly.She realized she was in her bed, in her room. Curling up into a fetal position, she tried to ease the pain in her stomach, and in barely audible whispers, she kept repeating:"I want chocolate…"
She cried silently, to herself — a cry that seemed to absorb all the loneliness in the room.
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Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, in São Paulo, the girl finally reached her destination.Rio de Janeiro, 7 p.m., August 14th, 1946.
She knocked on the door of a house in the Glória neighborhood. Around her, life went on; the night never slept in those streets.
The door was opened by an elderly woman. Behind her stood a younger woman, maybe in her thirties, heavily made up — her polished appearance revealing the kind of work she did with her body.
The girl, her throat tight, said:"Tía Sandra… please, can I come in?"
She had traveled fourteen hours from home. Sandra and her daughter, Maria, immediately noticed the bag she carried, that she wasn't accompanied by her parents, that she was dirty, and that her face showed traces of recent, deep crying.
"Please… let me stay just a couple of days," the girl pleaded.
The old woman gently covered her mouth and said,"Child, come in. Don't stay out there. Tell us what's going on, alright?"
She stepped inside, and they sat at the table. Touching her belly with a nervous gesture, she confessed:"I'm pregnant."
Both the older woman and Maria froze.
"Let me guess," said Maria. "You don't know who the father is, do you?"
"I do know who he is," the girl replied, her voice trembling.
"Then he should take responsibility," the grandmother said, frowning.
At that moment, the girl broke down crying. Maria and the grandmother began scolding her at the same time:"We have to find the boy. We'll make him take responsibility."
Luzia lowered her gaze, her body shaking, her hands gripping herself as if trying to hold in all the fear inside. Between sobs, she could barely form words:"I… I didn't… it's not a boy…"
Each phrase was cut off, drowned by tears. Tension filled the room, and for an instant, everything fell silent — except for her uneven breathing.
The two women, clinging to their Catholic faith, replied sharply:"No. That's not going to happen."
But Luzia couldn't stop:
"You don't know… you don't know how scared I was. You don't understand how I feel… Grandma, I came here because I had nowhere else to go."
"My father doesn't help me. He doesn't believe me. And worse… he chose to defend him instead of me. Lately, he's been so violent… I don't understand why he keeps hitting Mom."
"Maybe your father is just very tired…" the grandmother whispered weakly.
Luzia, broken, started shouting, as if all the pain she had kept inside finally burst out:"I don't understand! Why didn't he defend me? Why doesn't he believe me?"
Finally, through a stream of tears, she confessed the thing she feared most to say:"It's… it's Mr. Paul… the child I'm expecting is from my boss, Mr. Paul."
The air grew heavy. Paul was a fifty-two-year-old German who had escaped the war and built connections for his coffee business.
He owned a large manor where—Luzia and her mother worked for him… but for the past year and a half, she had crossed the line into what was forbidden.
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These events were happening at the same time as what was unfolding in Vermont — in the hidden Vermot forest.
Adelaida watched as Kamei-san, Jack, and Nuriel talked. She decided not to interfere and quietly slipped away to Dánae's room.
She knocked on the door. The only language she might be able to use was Mandarin, so she asked,"May I come in?"
Dánae didn't respond. Covered from head to toe, she barely moved from the pain. Her shoulders rose and fell with every strained breath.
Adelaida entered quietly."Excuse me…"
There was a chair beside the bed. She sat down and spoke softly."You know… Kamei-san told me you'll need to rest for two months. And after that, you might start to feel better."
Dánae didn't lift the blanket. Adelaida kept talking, leaving pauses in the air, noticing how the girl trembled faintly.
"I didn't want our first meeting to happen through something like this. Listen… your name is Dánae, right?"
She looked at her gently, avoiding any sudden movement that might make her shrink further.
"Look, I don't know you. And just like I told Nuriel, I want to tell you too. I don't want to sound pretentious saying this, but…"
She took a deep breath and finished,"I'm sorry, Dánae. It's the only thing I can offer that might give you even a little bit of relief."
"I don't know what the German army did to your parents," Adelaida said softly, "or what you went through during that time. But… maybe an apology from me can't bring them back — yet it can at least show you that I'm not your enemy, Dánae."
"I just want us to get along. That's all I wanted to tell you."
Adelaida stood up. She was about to leave when she felt Dánae grab her dress. The girl's hand was small, cold, and trembling.
With a weak voice, the child whispered first in Russian,"Please… don't go."
Adelaida looked at her, not understanding. Then Dánae, making an effort, repeated in Mandarin,"Please… don't go."
The only arm visible from under the blanket was shaking. Her whole body remained hidden beneath it, fingers clutching the fabric.
With difficulty — stammering between gasps of pain — she said,"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… I didn't know anything. I… I did know who you were, I knew you were a saint… but I shouldn't have reacted like that. I'm sorry…"
Each word tore a whimper from her throat. The pain in her stomach mixed with shame, and that combination became threefold suffering — deep, unbearable, almost impossible to endure. Unable to keep speaking, she was left gasping beneath the sheet.
She couldn't say another word; she just cried, her breathing uneven and broken. Gently, Adelaida lifted the blanket.
What she found wasn't a violent child — but a girl suffering from this senseless war, from that horrifying human custom that leaves girls like Dánae with wounds in their souls.
Dánae was pressing her abdomen with both hands, more focused on containing the pain than on hiding her tears. Her shoulders rose and fell with every breath.
Adelaida watched her for a long moment and thought:
"Mom, what would you do if you were in my place — if you were her?"
Then she carefully helped the girl sit up, sliding her hands beneath her shoulders. With a handkerchief, she gently wiped away her tears, one by one.
She took a deep breath and, tenderly, kissed Dánae's left cheek.
For a brief instant, their eyes met; then, with the same soft calmness, she kissed her right cheek.
Adelaida settled beside her and began to stroke her hair in slow, steady movements — transmitting calm, care, and quiet warmth. Her words floated gently in the air:
"It must hurt a lot, doesn't it, Dánae?"
Dánae said nothing. She only breathed unevenly, letting Adelaida's closeness and tenderness wrap around her.
Then Dánae thought:—I threw a stone at you… and… you give me a kiss…
That thought made her feel even more ashamed of what she'd done, and her tears wouldn't stop falling as she gasped for air — but Adelaida kept wiping them away with kisses and caresses, gently massaging her head.
Little by little, the crying subsided. Her body's trembling began to fade.
Adelaida broke the silence:
"My mother always said that when a little girl cries, you just have to kiss her cheeks… and you'll see how she smiles again."
"Don't worry, Dánae. You don't need to force yourself to tell me how you feel. With those few words, I already understood that you don't resent me. And with that… I'm already happy."
Dánae stammered between sobs:"Why… do you keep kissing me?"
That gesture reminded her of her mother — how she used to spoil her when she got hurt or when the other kids didn't want to play with her.
Adelaida smiled."Because I want to help your tummy hurt less."
She hugged her softly and added:"You shouldn't cry… besides, you're way too pretty to cry."
"Stop teasing me… I'm not pretty. My face looks weird —protested Dánae—, my hair's too orange, I look like a fruit, and my eyebrows look like a pig's tail."
"That's not true." —"replied Adelaida, gently stroking her hair "You look like a creature from the forest".
"Your red hair, your freckles, your green eyes… those eyebrows and eyelashes like little spirals. You're beautiful, Dánae."
"In fact, I'd dare say you're the prettiest little girl I've ever had the fortune to comfort. You have the beauty of an angel —and I've seen angels."
Dánae covered her face, embarrassed."Don't go on… it's not true."
"She began to cry again —but it wasn't the same kind of crying. This time, she wasn't crying for her parents. She cried because it was the first time in a long while that an adult woman treated her with tenderness, almost like pampering her. That made her feel like a child again, as if she had never left Stalingrad.
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Adelaida and Dánae managed to reconcile. Adelaida took Dánae's hand and realized that the sweet, spiral-haired girl had fallen asleep, staring at the ceiling and murmuring:
"Dad, mon, Constanz, Christa… how I miss you. Your absence makes me want to take care of Dánae."
Adelaida relaxed too and soon drifted into sleep.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, in Rio de Janeiro, a third woman was crying inconsolably. Luzia, in her aunt Maria's room, stayed there until she ran out of tears —until, inevitably, she closed her eyes.
In the living room, her grandmother and Maria argued about what to do with her.
"I don't understand why my cousin didn't defend Luzia… I can't believe he'd do that."
Sandra lowered her gaze and answered bluntly:"Believe it. His daughter came all the way here. I imagine she stole the money, because I don't see how else she could've made it this far on foot."
"And remember, that man's no good person. What an injustice —you buy the land just for some foreigner to take it from you, and on top of that, he abuses your daughter."
Maria continued:"If her father didn't defend her, then she has nowhere to go. And if she returns, it'll be worse."
Sandra looked her in the eye."I want her to work with me at the market stall. We'll help her have her baby. But please, don't drag her into your world, Maria."
Maria glanced toward the room and said calmly:
"That's for her to decide… But the truth is, men keep asking me for favors all the time. Still, this seems like uma baita merda (a real load of crap) to me."
She fell silent for a moment, then added:"Tell me —do you really think it's right for her to keep it? O filho da puta (that son of a bitch) abused her."
The grandmother didn't hesitate:"Every life must be preserved. I won't allow my granddaughter to get rid of it."
While the family argued in Rio de Janeiro, Luzia was trying to sort out her thoughts. She didn't fully grasp the weight of her decision, but she was sure that with her great-aunt and Maria she'd be safer than with her father.
At the same time these decisions about Luzia were being made, Jack, Nuriel, and Kamei-san were talking in Vermont, working out everything they needed to understand about their arrival. The simultaneity of the two scenes heightened the narrative tension and the emotional contrast between the two cities.
They talked about Zaziel; they went over Nuriel and Adelaida's journey across the European continent, then to Iceland and Greenland; and they discussed what Galton had done to Jack for over a decade. Finally, they reached an answer about the meaning of the saints and the reason for their existence.
Kamei-san looked uneasy, speaking in Polish and Mandarin.
"God sent me to find the saints. But for now, He said we should focus on only ten. That means you're the first four. I… as much as I might believe I'm a saint, the truth is, I'm only an ancestor.
A sort of failed saint. So I don't count as one of you."
He fell silent, with a trace of bitterness.
"I may have immortality," he added, "but that doesn't mean I was chosen for your destiny."
Kamei-san spoke carefully, making sure Jack and Nuriel understood:
"There's something else. You have to stay here. You can't leave. The reason is simple: something is happening."
He turned to Nuriel.
"It's what I mentioned before. I don't know exactly what's going on, but there's a great instability in Heaven and in Hell, as if there were an invisible conflict, on top of the apocalyptic war in Europe.
It's as if they're hunting the saints… as if we're being watched. I noticed it when I was in China. But I'm not sure."
He paused, lowering his voice."Maybe I'm afraid of bullets… but the spiritual world of demons terrifies me far more."
He stood up and, trying to smile, added in both languages:"The good thing is that now everyone's here. I won't have to worry about protecting you from bullets, battalions, mines, or even bears. At least that gives me some peace."
Jack looked at him seriously.
"Can you translate something for Nuriel?"
"Of course," Kamei-san replied.
"I want to know why he decided to come here. He had the chance to leave, to stay out there. Why did he choose to remain? I just want to understand, to have some perspective on him."
Kamei-san translated, and Nuriel grew thoughtful. Deep down, he knew Jack was right. He could have left—but he had chosen to stay… for Kamei-san.He just didn't know how to say it.
In the end, he answered:"Tell him the reason I came here doesn't matter. What matters is what we'll do next."
When Jack heard the translation, he looked at Nuriel differently. He realized that maybe neither of them had a clear reason to be there.
But lacking a reason didn't mean they lacked purpose.So they shook hands, and in their own languages, thanked each other—because both were protecting the women who mattered to them.
Then they remembered that Adelaida hadn't returned yet.Jack mentioned to Kamei-san that he had seen her earlier: she'd quietly gone upstairs, but he hadn't said anything.
The three went looking for her and found her in Dánae's room. Through the crack in the door, they watched a peaceful scene: Dánae was asleep, and Adelaida too.
They were holding hands.
Jack thought,"I think they've made peace. I can't help feeling happy seeing Dánae sleep so calmly."
Nuriel reflected to himself,"That girl… alright, Kamei-san, you win. She's adorable. She really is adorable."
As for Kamei-san, he thought,"I just hope Dánae recovers soon. I'm glad they managed to reconcile."
While they watched in silence, a radiant light appeared beside them.A Potestad—a high-ranking angel—descended, and its voice interrupted their thoughts:
"Galton is already far from here."
The three of them listened closely, though their eyes still wandered fleetingly toward the scene of Dánae and Adelaida.The angel continued:
"Kamei-san, these are God's orders: you must stay here. You are not allowed to leave Vermont unless it's absolutely necessary — for food, supplies, or matters related to the protection of the saints. From now on, you will be their earthly guardian."
"Things are happening that compromise both humanity and the heavens."
"Let God handle it. The saints have nothing to do with this."
Jack raised his voice:"How long are we supposed to stay here?"
Nuriel also asked,"Tell me something… is it true there will be ten saints?"
Kamei-san stayed silent. Then the angel replied:
"It's true. That is the second message. Listen carefully, Kamei-san. God will use Galton to protect the future saints who will come — those who will shape the days before the fortieth Jubilee."(Jubilee = 50 years)
Kamei-san kept listening intently. The angel went on:
"Far from here, another saint is about to rise. To the east — another one. And to the west and south — yet another. There are three in total: the Saint of Ice, the Saint of Light, and the Saint of Metal.
When the time comes, you must protect them."
The angel paused, then added:"And not only that. Another saint is also approaching — the Saint of Earth. You'll have to get along, because they haven't yet appeared in this era."
With that, the angel vanished. The room fell silent, the image of Dánae and Adelaida still lingering in their minds.
Jack grew thoughtful."More saints… Did he say they won't appear in this era? And he said Jubilee?"
Nuriel murmured, disbelief in his voice,"No way… that means we're not the only ones. There are more."
Kamei-san, silent, watching the peaceful stillness of Dánae and Adelaida, whispered with a trace of fear,"God… what is happening? Why does it feel like the end is near?"