Apostazia: AOD REimagined prequal.
Chapter 7 : âPaper cut.â
"The past wears a mask,and it hits harder than the truth."
Location: Switzerland:Zurich/ forensic Institute.Alps montains/Col de Resia
Time: October 20 th -October 28th 1997.
FILE REF: A07 â Informant Contact :Marie Corneil-
Vittorio Marcherelli/Gunderson Agencey: The Craws UNIT.
Kurtis Trent POV
Zurich -October 20th /Dawn 04: 20 a.m:
The first light leaks through the blinds of a rented flat.
Kurtis sits at the table, He's alone, turning the Chirugai over in his hands, feeling its balance, remembering the way Morgau held his father's inheritance pretending like she was born with it.
He pictures her; young, furious, clutching something she doesn't understand.
If she's out there in the next seven days, and the Craws get to her first; things will be incertain, it's unpredictable what her Father Mathias Vasiley can do. his mind replaying fragments of Raphael's overheard conversation with Esteban.
Too many hands reaching for things that should have stayed buried.
The Bertoli excavations.
 Gunderson.
Lux Veritatis.Â
William Dahl ..................................and Samael.
That name ;Raphael still believe it's too good to be true.But he still can't afford knowing that it actually is, and belongs to someone who still a part of this world.
And Morgau... reckless but not stupid. She hadn't stolen his father's Chirugai for the thrill ; she wanted answers, she wanted someone to come, she wanted Samael.
Kurtis's jaw tightens.
She doesn't know that particular person with that name isn't a happy ending ;it's a fuse waiting to be lit.
But a certain feeling never left him. A presence moving unseen, tugging at the strings, forcing him into a game he hadn't agreed to play.Â
'Morgau was the lure, the distraction;but for whose hand?'
Kurtis's instincts told him the truth was close, maybe closer than he wanted. If it was the Cabal behind it, then the very ground that held them together for centuries was already splitting apart. If it wasn't, then someone else was circling with the same goal as his;someone bold enough to turn the Cabal's own tools against them.
The thought burned at him, made him want to tear it all open and find the answer now. But he couldn't; not yet. A single wrong step, a single crack in the mask, could bring the whole weight of it crashing down;and Samael
Or he should say 'Cadol' would be the one crushed under it.
So he swallowed the resentment, smothered the fire. He would bide his time, even if it meant playing along with a script he despised. For now, he had no choice, the mistake wouldn't just be his; it would be hers.
By mid-morning, he walks the narrow park near the forensic institute; hands in his coat pockets.
 She's already there.Â
Blonde hair bent over a pathology textbook; brown eyes flick up once, no more.
Not coincidence;not chance. Cadol always knew when he was nearby; Always played her part. He usually leave an Origami paper plane for her to find ; folded sharp, impossible to miss.
Today he simply leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed, watching her reflection in the glass across the path. She sat apart, stiff with practiced indifference.
Her hair caught the light like gold thread, otherwise she was just another student hurrying through classes, nothing to mark her.
But their eyes met ; once ,and the weight of years between them burned louder than words.
The next day they met again.
Two strangers sitting far apart; he on a weathered bench facing the duck pond, she leaning against the low brick wall by the path.
No one would mistake them for friends or family; that was the point.
"How's class?" he asked, eyes on the pigeons.
"Cold.......smells like formaldehyde." Her tone was flat, but he heard the weight under it;the same weight she'd carried since childhood.
Small exchanges;safe ones. Every syllable wrapped in silence, as if one wrong word would snap the thread. When they parted, they did so like strangers; passing in opposite directions, reflections brushing against the same glass pane before breaking away.
That night, in his flat, Kurtis read a coded letter from Marie. Her words were clean; military in their precision:Â
'Keep her safe. Keep her ignorant.'
Even from western Ireland, she made him feel cornered, thirteen again, expected to obey.
'Don't fail like your father did.'
"He didn't fail........I just wanted to run away."
He rubbed his eyes; legion training had taught him how to stay awake for days, but not how to silence memory; not how to silence demons; they came anyway.
The last day, again; he was walking the narrow park near the forensic institute, thought he could take a look at her for the last time before the mission. hands deep in the pockets of his jacket. She was already there.
Brown eyes that flicked toward him only once. A silver dreamcatcher earring swayed against her left cheekbone; the rest of her looked as if she belonged to the crowd of quiet students hurrying between lectures.
Then her eyes fell forward as she bent over a textnote,doodling something with a pencil between her fingers.Â
They sat far apart again; him on a weathered bench facing the duck pond, her leaning against the low brick wall by the path.Â
Neither of them noticed the two men cutting through the park path ;one tall, dark-haired, carrying himself with the faint arrogance of someone used to command; the other easy in movement, a half-smile playing at his mouth. the tall one slowed just enough to glance between the him on the bench and the Cadol by the wall. No words, but something in the air between them made him file it away.
A long silent minute stretched between them, long enough for the wind to stir the leaves at their feet.
"Why are we doing this?" she asked suddenly. "Why can't we just talk like normal people?"
His throat tightened; he gave her the only answer he'd ever given, the one that was never enough.
"I wish I could give you a proper explanation ;one I even understood myself back then. But I can't afford it if they know we're family."
"Who's 'they?' "
He didn't answer. Instead:
"I think you should get a partner," he said at last; voice low.
She huffed almost a chuckel.
"You think that would work......................"
"If you find someone that cares about more than I do." He said coldly" then you'll get to talk to them like you wish; won't be alone."
Silence.
She looked down, twisting the paper plane carried in her hands. "Maybe."
He left before she could say more; left because if he stayed, he might break.
What he didn't notice was Raphael Marcherelli in the distance, pausing mid-step with Morlock beside him, eyes narrowing on the strange, wordless space between the two.
Kurtis didn't care; couldn't care. Orders said one thing, instincts another.
And deep down, he knew ; when the time came, he wouldn't obey Vittorio, nor Gunderson.
He would obey Marie.
He would protect Cadol.
And if that meant redirecting the Craws, and throwing Raphael headfirst into a storm he couldn't yet name ;so be it.Â
Four nights of the same rhythm: October 24th
A cabin in the Alps; Snow tapping the glass.
Chirugai balanced across his knees, its warmth hum like a pulse.
The Craws drank downstairs, sharpening their knives. Kurtis sat alone , hearing Morgau's voice in his memory:
"Samael is alive, and I know that!"
Not because she was wrong.
But because she sounded too much like himself.
Thinking of her , Cadol, Raphael.
Muttering into the dark:Â If I can't keep her from them, I'll keep the Knife from everyone.
But the Alps pressed on him. Vittorio's debriefings, the Craws whispering in corners, Gunderson's invisible hand on every lever, orders dressed up as strategies; always the same weight.
Nights were worse.
Konstantin's Heisstum voice returned in dreams:Â
'Again. Again. Again.'
Sixteen years old, walking away from His father. Away from training, from inheritance, from destiny. Straight into the Legion,straight into hell,that's when the curse began ; He some night see shadows crawling on his chest, demons whispering his name, the price of refusing to be a weapon.
At one point, Kurtis recalled how Cadol never pushed back, never questioned, only followed. The same quiet obedience he'd carried when he was younger, bending under his father's word without daring to resist. It struck him then that she wasn't different from him at all; just re-shaped by the same hand. Their father had made her this way, as he had once made him.
Now Vittorio Marcherelli gave him that same gaze, cold, unreadable. Another father who would never be satisfied.
The fourth morning; snow flurries.
The Craws gathered in a chalet-turned-safehouse at the foot of the Alps. Kurtis arrived last, stepping into a haze of sweat, gun oil, and damp wool. Masked men checked rifles and blades.
Vittorio stood apart ; taller, heavier, the kind of man who commanded without raising his voice. His eyes lingered on Kurtis a moment too long before turning back to the plan.Â
"Primary objective: secure the location of the Lux.V depot. Secondary: if the girl shows, we take her alive."
A ripple of unease at the girl. Kurtis kept his face still, mind already moving.
That night, in his cabin, snow clawed at the window.
He hid the Chirugai in his belt, whispering:
'Â Â I must do it right this time;hunt down the real demons .'
Engines roared in the courtyard, trucks loaded, rifles clipped.Â
Kurtis adjusted his coat, Hid and locked the Chirugai in place, and followed them into the snow. Not to obey.
But to betray.
End of Chapter 7
To be Continued ...........................................
Kurtis journal:
âEvery shadow I bury claws back to the surface. I tell myself Iâm in control, but itâs there,always;scratching under my skin. And tonight, I felt it again.â
Chapter 8 is coming later . Chap 7 and 8 are supposed to be one unite. so back to back post.
Can you guess which song inspired this chapter?
I mean it's obvious x)
