65

GABRIELLA’S POV
Margaret couldn’t believe what she was witnessing. The once harmonious atmosphere had been shattered by a heated argument between Dorcas and Argatha. Rising from her seat, Margret felt a surge of anger fueled by her concern for the well-being of everyone involved. She needed to intervene and put an end to the fight that was disrupting the entire event.
“Enough, Dorcas! Enough of all these words,” Margret exclaimed, her voice laced with frustration. “This isn’t like you. What’s the matter? What’s your problem exactly?”
Dorcas shot Margret a venomous glare, her face contorted with anger. “My problem is that Argatha has refused to mind her own business. No one asked for an explanation, as if this process wasn’t stressful enough,” she spat, her voice reaching a crescendo.
Margret stood her ground, her expression a mix of concern and disappointment. Despite Dorcas’s disrespectful outburst, she managed to maintain her composure. She understood that responding with anger would only escalate the situation further.
“Dorcas,” Margret began, her tone calm and measured. “Argatha’s intention was to help, out of love and compassion for all of us. She believed that you were confused and might need assistance in understanding what Clarissa said, especially since her words weren’t clear enough.”
Margret’s words hung in the air, a palpable tension enveloping the room. All eyes were fixed on the two women engaged in a verbal battle. The crowd murmured in shock and disbelief, each person adding their own commentary to the unfolding drama.
Dorcas was taken aback by Margret’s composed response. She had expected anger and retribution, but instead, Margret’s voice remained steady and filled with maturity. Confusion flickered across Dorcas’s face, and for a brief moment, her anger wavered.
“What? Did we complain to her? How is it her business? Why does she think she can meddle just because she’s up on the auditorium stage?” Dorcas shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Argatha in a demeaning manner.
Silence hung heavily in the air as Margret stared at Dorcas. Her expression was inscrutable, an enigmatic mix of empathy and understanding. It was clear that Margret had her reasons for remaining calm, but the others couldn’t comprehend why she didn’t punish Dorcas for her disrespectful behavior.
“Dorcas, I don’t know exactly what happened, but I need you to calm down,” Margret implored, stepping closer and gently gripping Dorcas’s trembling hands.
“Why did she have to involve my mother in this?” Dorcas lamented, her voice filled with anguish.
“Calm down, Dorcas. Just calm down,” Margaret said soothingly, her voice laced with an undertone of mysterious intent. Her eyes, however, betrayed a hidden agenda that sent a chill down my spine. There was something unsettling about the way she looked at Dorcas, as if she had ulterior motives, as if she wanted to do something else entirely.
Dorcas, sensing the shift in Margaret’s demeanor, felt a wave of apprehension wash over her. “What’s happening?” she asked, her voice trembling with fear. She wanted answers desperately, her eyes wide and searching, hoping to find some reassurance in Margaret’s face.
But before Dorcas could speak another word, Margaret’s hand shot out, gripping hers tightly. Dorcas could feel the pressure of Margaret’s fingers closing around her own, squeezing almost painfully. The suddenness of the action caught her off guard, leaving her stunned and vulnerable.
Her fear grew more palpable as she struggled to comprehend the situation. “Margaret, please!” Dorcas pleaded, her voice quivering with a mix of confusion, fear, and urgency. “Why are you gripping me like this? What’s going on?”
Dorcas’ words hung in the air, but Margaret remained silent, her eyes fixated on some unseen horizon. The atmosphere became heavy with anticipation, and a profound stillness settled upon them. Time seemed to slow as Dorcas anxiously waited for an explanation, her heart pounding in her chest.
Suddenly, without warning, Margaret began to chant under her breath. The words flowed from her lips in a haunting melody, echoing through the room. Dorcas felt a surge of unease and watched Margaret intently, her eyes widening with growing terror.
As Margaret’s voice gained momentum, the chant expanded, growing in complexity and depth. The words now carried a blend of ancient languages, weaving a tapestry of mysticism and power:
“Da meam veritatem, divinum lumen,
Aeternum claritatis, tenebris frumentum.
Exaudi vocem meam, exaudi preces,
Revela nobis lucem, per iubilares res.
From realms beyond, obscurity’s veil,
Illuminate our path, let clarity prevail.
Ancient tongues entwined, whispers collided,
Unravel the enigma, with wisdom as our guide.
Agnoscere veritatem, fidesque mutua,
Sint liberi cogitantes, mente congrua.
In linguis olivae, mysteria patescunt,
Per verba arcana, confusionem dispescunt.
With every syllable, let fog dissipate,
Reveal the clarity we seek, illuminate.
Break the chains of doubt and fear,
Guide us to the answers near.
Wisdom’s whispers, ancient and wise,
Banish confusion, let clarity rise.
With each verse spoken, chaos retreats,
Unveil the truth, where darkness meets.
By the sacred words, we summon the light,
In tongues unknown, reveal truth’s insight.
Inscribe upon our souls, knowledge profound,
A symphony of wisdom, let clarity resound.
In nomine sapientiae, claritas subveni,
Lux in tenebris, cogitationes repugnant.
Per viam obscuram, lux splendescit,
Veritas efflorescit, confusionem regredit.
Through veils of time, let clarity emerge,
Ancient wisdom is unlocked, secrets converge.
Emerge from shadows, mysteries untold,
In this sacred union, clarity takes hold.
Clara lux, fulgentia signa,
Dissolve the fog, our minds enshrined.
Emerge, truth’s beacon, in this sacred dance,
With every word spoken, enhance clarity.”
The chant swirled through the room, its ethereal echoes captivating the atmosphere.
The fusion of languages, the rhythm of the words, and the depth of meaning invoked a sense of awe and wonder.
Dorcas writhed in pain, and I couldn’t help but become confused about everything that was happening at this point, because just a few minutes ago she was okay. So, what was the matter? Why was she suddenly screaming?
Though it was obvious that whatever it was that Margaret was chanting, it was the cause of her sudden change.
I was also surprised by Margaret’s actions. I mean, she seemed very calm just a few minutes ago, and then suddenly she’s intensely chanting. Like, what really happened?
Wait!
I didn’t understand much from Margaret’s chant, but with the little knowledge about this whole thing that I had, I could tell that the chants were those of clarity. It was like she was calling upon light to shine through the darkness that had suddenly settled.
And this only made me more curious because what could it mean? Was it that Dorcas was possessed by a spirit that wasn’t hers, or was something wrong somewhere?
Only Margaret knew the answer to this question.
The chant grew in intensity, its rhythm pulsating through the air. It seemed to hold an inexplicable power, a force that gripped Dorcas’ very being.
The room seemed to darken, shadows dancing on the walls as the atmosphere crackled with otherworldly energy.
Dorcas fought against the rising panic, desperately trying to understand the situation. “Stop, Margaret! Please, stop!” she cried out, her voice now tinged with both fear and desperation. Her mind raced, searching for any semblance of reason or escape.
But Margaret’s gaze remained fixed, her voice unwavering as she continued her incantation. Dorcas could feel her control slipping away, a sense of helplessness settling deep within her core. Her senses heightened, every nerve on edge, as she braced herself for what was to come.
A moment later, Dorcas let out a sharp, piercing scream that tore through the heavy silence.
It was a cry born out of sheer terror and disbelief, a sound that encapsulated the depths of her anguish. The room seemed to tremble with the force of her voice, the sound reverberating off the walls.
As the energy changed, I could tell that something was just wrong somewhere.
Margaret’s chanting reached its crescendo, and a surge of energy erupted, enveloping Dorcas in an invisible vortex.
She felt a powerful surge of emotions coursing through her, as if the very fabric of her being was being twisted and manipulated by forces beyond her control.
Dorcas writhed in pain, her body contorting as the intensity of the moment consumed her. Sweat glistened on her forehead, and tears streamed down her cheeks. She pleaded for release, for mercy, her voice choked with agony.
Margaret’s expression remained unchanged.
As the ordeal continued, Dorcas realized that there was no escape from this surreal nightmare.
She was at the mercy of Margaret’s enigmatic plan, trapped within a web of emotions and unknown consequences.
In that moment, fear, confusion, and despair collided within Dorcas, the emotions evident on her face.