The Mill and The Cross

To him, it feels as though he has ascended to heaven, as the oppressive darkness that consumed him completely finally recedes, leading him towards the light. And the angels, bending sorrowfully over him, timidly caress his gaunt face with their palms, granting him a hint of warmth, a respite from the eternal cold. And each angel has her face. If Lawrence accepts his post-death existence as a divine gift, he stillwill never be able to let go of the image of Marianne. If, of course, this is indeed the afterlife and not a prolonged surreal dream or... a long-awaited awakening? The glistening, snow-white paradise abruptly shrinks to the modest dimensions of his dimly lit room on the second floor of a rural inn. Shadows leisurely glide across the grimy walls. It's as if an unnatural force has been expelled from his hands, and malevolent passions have forever departed from his heart and mind. Only his tender angel, his delicate rose, still sits beside him, gazing at him with her enormous, velvety dark eyes, shimmering with tears and silent gratitude to the Almighty for this miraculous deliverance. "The doctor who found himself in the tavern yesterday concluded that you died. Your pupils failed to react to the flickering candle flame, and your heart ceased beating for a minute and a half," Marianne whispers to him, her kisses soft and blurred, as if she can't quite believe that the dreadful ordeal is truly over. "Human death would have been a merciful release from God, but I wished to die with you yesterday, Lawrence." The world is clearly undeserving of her. Lawrence will now carry the delicate purity of this young girl's soul with him for the rest of his days, holding it carefully in his hands. "Allow me to tell you, it's not frightening at all. It turns out that there is nothing there... Only an endless, desolate darkness, which, unfortunately, fails to instill fear. On the contrary, it feels soft and comforting, welcoming you into its embrace with utmost tenderness. I now comprehend the reason why the countenances of those who pass away naturally are almost always adorned with relief and tranquility. The merciful darkness that exists in the boundlessness of another realm truly soothes, eradicating any suffering. I was prepared for this, but... Something miraculously yanked me back, at the end of those eternal minutes and a half, refusing to let me dissolve into the darkness. It was likely your love and your prayers, Marianne." Death no longer instills fear in either of them, for that profound spiritual bond between them evidently does not cease with life. If they are destined to depart this world one day, their souls will still reunite in paradise, where nothing will sever their connection. "So love is truly mightier than death, regardless of what those scholarly tomes proclaim, if your heart beats once more," she clings to him like a tiny kitten, resting her slightly disheveled red head upon his chest, listening joyfully the resolute heartbeat of Van Helsing, who once again peacefully wears a tiny silver cross on a simple chain. "My dear, it's more likely that the beast's heart ceased, and my old one began beating anew." Fate is undeniably an enigmatic and capricious lady, yet it never takes thoughtless, meaningless turns. What would have unfolded if he hadn't encountered Miss Danielle on that road, offering her his aid and protection? Perhaps, he wouldn't now be kneeling in this dimly lit room before his future Mrs. Van Helsing. "Now, there's nothing holding us back here, which means we can finally depart these lands with a clear conscience, but first... I would like the priest to bless us." * For some inexplicable reason, October always brought unfavorable weather into their lives, as if serving as a reminder of the bitter and dreadful days of the past, etched in the memories of remote Transylvanian settlements. Marianne, wrapped in a lengthy coat to shield herself from the chilly wind, spoke her final words with tears betraying her emotions, once again concealing her face beneath a dark veil. "That's the kind of person he was, always prioritizing the well-being of other innocent souls over his own needs. He was an incredibly intelligent, empathetic, kind, and just man, the last true knight of his time. Perhaps we faced financial struggles at times, as his honor meant much more to him than any material wealth, but we were still happy. We were proud of his genuinely noble work. I have never respected or loved anyone else in my life as much as I did him. And he, my dear, endlessly loved you - perhaps even more than me, but I perfectly understand him. How could he not love his little angel with all his heart?.." Standing beside Marianne, there was a young girl with fiery red hair, unusually tall and still carrying a hint of teenage awkwardness. She could no longer hold back her tears, using a starched handkerchief to wipe her flushed face. Perhaps she didn't possess the sensual beauty, flirtatiousness, grace, and vibrant energy of her seemingly ageless mother. Not everyone would have the audacity to label this sorrowful young lady as a true beauty. However, she possessed a quiet modesty, a curious and lively intellect, extraordinary talents, and an incredible kindness towards others, clearly inherited from her father. She also shared the same sharply defined facial features as him, which were a bit softened and warmed by her strikingly clear, shiny blue eyes that knew how to smile. "It appears to me that I never truly knew him in that way. However, from now on, I will forever remember him as the epitome of fearlessness, a warrior who fought relentlessly for the worth of every human soul," the young lady clung tightly to her mother, offering her a good support. "Always keep your father in your heart, Laura. He sacrificed his life so that unpunished evil would never resurface in our world. One day, you will pass on his legacy to your own children, ensuring that the honor of the Van Helsing family never fades away." Something within Marianne's soul perished on the day Lawrence's body was finally laid to rest, ironically, right beside the ashes of his eternal adversary. Yet, amidst this, both the earth and the heavens seemed to pay homage to the nineteen blissful years that the Van Helsing couple shared together. Occasionally, this happiness was overshadowed by bitter, inconsolable losses: Laura, at the tender age of sixteen, had barely recovered from the death of her beloved younger brother Lorrie, who succumbed to scarlet fever, when her dear father was called to join the Lord. However, life, with all its hardships and tragedies, persists as long as Marianne and Laura continue to live. It all holds meaning as long as the memories of their past remain alive and the glimmer of hope for a radiant future persists. The tales of Lawrence Van Helsing's indomitable courage and unwavering faith in the triumph of good over evil will pass down through their family from one generation to the next, keeping their vibrant trace alive in their hearts. As long as someone brings humble lavender flowers to an unassuming grave in the small parish cemetery of the ancient church, everything remains a cherished family memory.