RAPHANIÈ WAS PASSING THROUGH THE imposing iron gates of the Pontifical Athenaeum Regina Apostolorum, in the outskirts of Rome, with the diocese driver, when his cellphone vibrated inside the pocket of his black cassock.
The discreet sound contrasted with the deep rumble of the wheels over the gravel of the long avenue lined with cypress trees. He answered quickly, without taking his eyes off the marble towers in the distance.
— I can't talk right now, I have a conference. I'll call you as soon as I'm done — he replied firmly, ending the call with a simple tap.
The morning sun filtered through the trees, casting geometric shadows across the car's dashboard. The driver, a middle-aged man with a restrained expression, did not dare to break the silence.
Father Raphaniè Marin, recognized worldwide for his research on demonology and exorcism rituals, was preparing for yet another lecture — and not just any lecture. His conference was the most anticipated of the entire academic cycle of the athenaeum, an event that, every semester, attracted religious figures, theologians, and scholars from all four corners of the world.
The course itself was something unique even within the walls of the Vatican. In just four months, it brought together seminarians, priests, friars, and monks around topics few dared to address openly: the historical, theological, and pastoral aspects of exorcism; the anthropological and sociological roots of belief in the devil; the psychological pathologies associated with possession; and the legal responses to satanic cults.
The public called it the "Course of Shadows." The professors preferred to call it "Preparation for the Final Battle." The theme of his new lecture was emblematic: "The Marks of the Beast."
— We must train God's soldiers for the final battle — had been Raphaniè's opening line in the inaugural class, delivered with a firm voice and eyes burning with unwavering faith.
The car moved through the silent campus, cutting across green lawns and geometric gardens, until it stopped in front of a modern building of glass and light stone. As soon as he stepped out, a young Asian priest, dressed in an impeccable cassock and wearing a golden crucifix, hurried to greet him.
— Father Raphaniè Marin, our master — he said with a slight touch of reverence. — The only one capable of filling the auditorium on a Monday morning.
— The subject helps — the priest replied with a discreet smile.
— A good theme without a good speaker is just a forgotten sermon — the young man answered diplomatically.
Raphaniè chuckled briefly:
— I am always glad to serve God in the best possible way, but I need to ask you a favor.
— Of course, go ahead.
— Let's leave our dinner for another day?
— Is there a problem, Raphaniè?
— An urgent call from the Holy See — he replied, as he walked into the building.
The auditorium was packed. More than a hundred people — including priests, scholars, and representatives of religious orders — waited in silence. Discreet cameras would broadcast the event to dozens of other Italian cities. In the background, the Vatican's coat of arms gleamed under the spotlights.
Raphaniè adjusted his headset, clipped on his lapel microphone, and handed a silver flash drive to the assistant.
— Everything is there, Father — the young man assured him.
Raphaniè took the small remote control and approached the pulpit:
— Dear students — he began, his voice echoing softly yet firmly. — You are here because you have heard the call of God. You must all know that letter of Saint Paul to the Ephesians, where he says:
"Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world, and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms."
He paused strategically, observing the attentive faces.
— Our mission, as exorcists and servants of the Church, is not only to relieve the suffering of the possessed, but to identify the traps that evil spreads throughout humanity. Demons leave marks wherever they pass — and it is about these marks that we will speak today.
He pressed the button on the remote, and the first slide illuminated the screen: a fiery red dragon, with seven heads, ten horns, and a tail that dragged stars across the firmament.
— This is the devil according to Saint John's vision, described in chapter twelve of Revelation — he explained. — The stars he drags are the angels who rebelled and fell with him. Part of his army, yet hell continues to recruit new soldiers. Do you know the ways the devil does this?
The audience responded chaotically: "through pride," "through greed," "through lust," "through arrogance."
Raphaniè raised his hand and silenced the auditorium.
— All of that is true, but there is something that comes before all these sins — a seed planted at the beginning of time.
He pressed another button, and a quote appeared on the screen in golden letters:
"The sons of God saw that the daughters of men were beautiful, and they took for themselves those they chose."
— Genesis, chapter six — he murmured. — The so-called "sons of God" were the fallen angels, the first to defy divine order.
He took a step forward:
— What does this mean? — he asked, staring at the audience.
Silence filled the room.
— That they had relations with human women, and from them were born hybrids — beings that belonged neither to heaven nor to earth.
The murmur that followed was dense, uneasy. He knew he had captured every gaze.
With another click, he projected the image of a baroque sculpture: an angel wrapped in shadows holding a naked woman by the arms, his face inclined toward her lips, in a mixture of desire and condemnation.
— Do you know the name of this seducer of darkness? — he asked, his voice deep and calm.
No one answered.
Raphaniè let the silence linger before completing:
— They called him Asael, and they say that to this day he walks among us.
The people in the auditorium remained motionless.
Outside, the bells of the athenaeum rang eleven times, as if marking the beginning of something none of them yet understood.