B-ronken-R-ing 159...

"Alejandro, son of Our Lord."

"Yes, Father."

"Juana, daughter of Our Lord."

"Yes, Father."

"You stand here today for a sacred vow to bind your lives together."

As the forgotten memory flooded back to her, Inés faltered backward a step, although she had been the one to call out to the man. Suddenly, her vision swam. It felt like a monstrous hand had slammed her head into the ground, threatening to crush it.

"You poor thing."

The voice of the man standing in front of her overlapped with a memory surfacing hazily in her mind, like a serpent slithering back into its shed skin. She felt the strange sensations and the terrible unease from that distant day.

Rojelio, the priest of Viedma, had been the only other living soul to witness the very modest wedding.

Inés recalled the humble and honest look on the kind country priest's face, lined with wisdom, and his eyes, piercing and all-knowing. After Inés and Emiliano made their vows to God, Rojelio had laid a blessing upon them. Then he had said to her, "This is not what the Lord had planned for you, and you will almost certainly live to regret this day. But perhaps this, too, is your fate, Juana... if that is even your true name."

Emiliano had been oblivious to that moment, but she had seen and heard everything.

"You will fall into sin once more, Inés," the priest had whispered.

Inés's consciousness had flickered out after his prophecy. then wavered like a candle in the wind until it suddenly flared to life once more. After that moment, her recollection of the prophet's voice had been obliterated from her mind, only leaving the memory of exchanging silver rings with Emiliano. Their brief, modest wedding had been beautiful in its own way just like the dim light that had illuminated the humble chapel. She had completely forgotten about the nameless priest who had officiated their wedding. I forgot everything, even his face, voice, and name...

Rojelio continued, "Or... are you Inés?"

All of the air left Inés's lungs in an instant. Dazed, she stared at Rojelio's head. The pale strands of his silver-white hair could have belonged to an old man or a holy knight from the folk tales of Ortega. They did not give away anything regarding his age or the depth of his faith. His face showed neither the weariness of an elderly man nor the vigor of youth.

If she had to guess, he seemed to be in his late thirties or forties.

Inés could now remember with shocking clarity what Rojelio had looked like on that day. He hadn't aged a single day since then. This man had read her wedding vows when she was sixteen. Now she was twenty-four, and he had seemingly stepped across some unfathomable gap in time to reappear in front of her, breaking all rules that applied to regular humans.

"Anastasio..." Inés murmured in a dazed voice. It was as if she had lost control over her own tongue. Was that... his name? It had only been a moment ago when she called out to the priest from her memories. Somehow, that name seemed meaningless now.

But... That was not his name. I-it was... She could not recall the man's "true" name again. A stabbing pain engulfed her head, as if telling her to stop questioning the truth. Every inhale took an excruciating amount of effort. The voice from earlier rang in her head again. That's him. Anastasio. He's the one who-

The priest's voice cut through the haze. "So you remember who I was before Rojelio... before that night in Viedma? You have made a wiser choice this time, then."

Her vision began to blur. The voice in her head tried to plead with her. No! Keep your head up! Your chance-

Memories cascaded over her like the ruins of a crumbling building that was threatening to crush her under their immense weight. Strange images and scenes flashed through her mind in a chaotic jumble, as if she were racing past them on horseback, desperately trying to make sense of it all. There was no order, no coherence. Some of the memories bore the stamp of familiarity, others were foreign, appearing and vanishing in a tangled, confusing mess.

Inés fought to stay upright, gasping for air like a drowning woman. Her efforts faltered, and she began to pitch forward until a cold hand grabbed her by the shoulder.

An unsettling memory surged through her mind at the touch. The image of a face emerged like water gushing through a parched channel, like plants sprouting on barren land.

She had seen his face among the proud Protestant martyrs awaiting execution in the middle of San Talaria Street while she had been sitting beside Oscar, watching them...

She saw him as the benevolent ranger who guarded the hunting grounds of Valeztena...

He was the Protestant minister discovered in the Castle of Perez...

He was also the Catholic priest residing alone in the small chapel in Viedma...

Then she saw his pale hands reaching across her field of vision. Those hands belonged to the forest ranger who had miraculously saved her from tumbling down a mountainside when she was but a young child...

He had always been there.

"You... that necklace..." Inés barely managed to croak out.

"Ah, that was not me," the priest responded. "You see, some children find it difficult to return to their destined path, even after repeating a broken life over and over... Just like you. Some do not bend to my will."

At that moment, Juana finally spotted Inés through the crowd and rushed over to grab her. "Miss!" she shrieked as if the shock had made her forget her mistress's new status as a married woman.

The priest's hands disappeared from Inés's vision, only for Juana's to take their place. Although Inés wanted to reach out for the priest, she could not utter a single word or even breathe, as if invisible hands were wrapped around her throat. Please... wait... Just one more time... She managed to slowly move her gaze upward, which was the only movement she could muster.

Her eyes searched frantically through the crowd of strangers' arms and hands, seeking the sleeve of a black soutane, until the priest's hand suddenly emerged from the jumbled memories and covered her forehead. The world shifted.

In her mind, she heard a solemn prayer. The words found her like a long-lost memory, embracing her like the dim light that had illuminated her and Emiliano as they held their wedding in the small chapel.

"And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away." (Revelation 21:4 KJV)

Is this... my death? Her head was now resting on a soft pillow filled with feathers, and the priest's comforting prayer seemed to lead her away from her body. She had never experienced such a peaceful death, even though she had already departed from life twice.

Inés took shallow breaths as the priest Anastasio placed his blessing upon her. He was wearing the necklace of the Diocese of Calztela. The familiar sound of waves echoed in her ears... the waves of Logorño Hill. The waves rushed in as the priest prayed and receded as Inés received the final blessing of her life.

Still lying on the bed, she slowly surveyed her surroundings. Sunlight scattered on her dimming eyes. This was their small bedroom, with white linen curtains swaying in the wind and walls bathed in sunlight.

This was the very room that she had shared with Cárcel, but he was nowhere to be seen.

She lay there, musing over her husband's absence, which was the most that she could do. She could not lift a finger even if she tried. Her eyes darted around the room, searching in vain for him, her heart clinging to a foolish hope for the impossible.

At that moment, her body shuddered with a deep, dry cough, and blood dripped down her chin. Arondra, sitting next to her, began to sob, gently wiping away the blood. The housekeeper appeared far more weary, miserable, and aged than Inés remembered. Her hands trembled as she clutched the rosary wrapped around them, as if she were the one on the verge of death.

Arondra, I... Inés thought she had managed to croak out those words, but she couldn't hear them. Her lips moved, yet the sound did not reach her ears. Her vision began to fill with a white fog, blinding her.

After a moment, her voice faded away into nothing.

Everything vanished, as if the air itself had disappeared. She could no longer hear the waves lapping against Logorño Hill. Instead, a terrible, piercing noise began to ring in her ears.

The light was blinding, and her lungs burned with an eternal fire. Her very being was sinking into the deathly quiet ocean. She had never experienced a death caused by sickness before, but she endured its final throes nonetheless. Through the ringing in her ears, she heard a distant prayer for the dying. The painful noise grew louder and louder until it suddenly came to a stop.

Then she saw nothing. No air entered her lungs.

A scene began to take form behind her closed eyelids. Cárcel was standing in a lake she had never seen before.

"Could you wait here for a moment, Inés?" he asked and turned around to swim across the sparkling water.

Inés averted her gaze, as if she had not even noticed Cárcel or his bare shoulders. She rested her chin on her knees, propped up close to her chest like a cage. However, her gaze eventually wandered back to Cárcel. There was a smile on his face-one that she knew she could never return. It was as if she had unconsciously allowed herself to recall the single moment in her life when she had been at peace.

Watching Cárcel wade out of the lake with a youthful smile, she felt her pain ebb away.

This is my death, she finally realized.

The last shred of her consciousness began to sink into the endless void. She was ready to disappear, to find peace at last.

"My lady! P-please... Don't do this to me, please..."

Somewhere, Inés could hear Juana sobbing and pleading with her. Though distant at first, the sound grew louder and more insistent. Cárcel and the lake faded away, along with the room where she had been dying. She saw her own arm reaching toward Juana, flailing in the air, as if begging her lady's maid to rescue her.

All of a sudden, she felt the "outside" air on her skin once more. The pain was now gone, replaced by immense relief and joy. What she was feeling right now was real. She embraced the sensation of freedom, as if she had just managed to free herself from a hand holding her head underwater.

I'm back, she told herself. I'm right here... I'm still alive. That death, it wasn't real. He didn't take me anywhere. I'm right here...

Then she realized that her lungs still refused to take in any air. Her body refused to obey her commands. She could see her arm lying limply on the street. Perhaps I was wrong. I am still trapped in that nightmare. I never managed to escape...

Juana was yelling at the top of her lungs, "Sir Herrera! Sir Herrera! We're right here! Please hurry! Madam Escalante is... S-she is..." Her voice trailed off into despair.

Inés stared at her own arm, still lying limp on the ground. It had never reached out for Juana. Her vision began to fade.

The narrow wall in her mind collapsed, along with the sound of the crashing waves.

Perhaps... what I just saw is what the future holds for me and Cárcel, she silently thought to herself.