The Vatican Knows She’s There. But No One Is Allowed to See Her

The Vatican Knows She’s There. But No One Is Allowed to See Her

A former priest reveals the unsettling supernatural events and hidden dangers surrounding a mysterious statue in a Mexican village, which leads to a crisis of faith and the emergence of a global cult.

• 00:00 🕵♂ A former priest recounts eerie supernatural events in a Mexican village centered around a mysterious statue that evokes fear and devotion among locals.
  • A chilling account reveals unsettling experiences of witnessing supernatural events and a warning about the hidden presence of evil.
  • A former priest reflects on his time in a remote Mexican village, where sincere devotion provided strength amidst a powerful storm.
  • Anesto discovered a mysterious, heavy statue buried in mud while searching for an ox, which drew the attention of the villagers, creating an eerie silence around them.
  • A visit to a chapel reveals a statue covered in a damp cloth, with dark marks resembling blood, evoking a sense of ancient warning and unease.
  • Locals increasingly visited the chapel, experiencing mysterious phenomena and a sense that the statue had chosen them, culminating in a significant gathering outside the chapel.
• 06:27 🕊 A community grapples with unsettling devotion to a mysterious statue, hinting at a hidden danger and a looming crisis within a global cult disguised as faith.
  • A crowd fervently worships a statue, attributing miraculous healings and profound experiences to it, revealing an obsession that transcends traditional faith.
  • The speaker feels overshadowed by a statue, referred to as the Virgin of Silence, which evokes a sense of unsettling devotion and emotional turmoil.
  • A mysterious presence, symbolized by a figure in a chapel, evokes unsettling dreams and rituals that the community acknowledges but does not openly discuss.
  • A group of village leaders learns about a mysterious and unsettling statue that evokes fear and dark visions, suggesting a hidden danger that must be confronted.
  • A growing sense of unease about a global cult disguised as faith suggests an impending collapse, prompting a call to prepare for the unexpected.
• 12:41 🕊 A devoted man’s absence leads to the discovery of a frozen figure and a mysterious statue in a chapel, sparking eerie disturbances and unsettling visions in the village.
  • Oresto, a devoted man who never missed Mass, was absent for the first time, prompting concern and a visit to his home.
  • A man named Don Ernesto is found frozen in a prayer-like position, unresponsive and with a haunting presence in his eyes, suggesting a deeper, unsettling connection.
  • A mysterious statue in a chapel is surrounded by strange footprints and signs of disturbance, suggesting something significant has emerged from within it, leading to an eerie silence in the village.
  • A man experiences a terrifying vision related to a mysterious statue, leading to strange occurrences and a sense of impending collapse that only a few acknowledge.
• 17:24 🕊 A mysterious presence disrupts reality in a village, leading to unsettling transformations and rituals that challenge faith and will.
  • A mysterious presence disrupts reality, leading to a profound realization that it transcends faith, idolatry, and heresy, manifesting as an unsettling infestation.
  • The atmosphere in the chapel changed dramatically, with dark stains and a new altar in the village featuring eerie depictions of a faceless woman, suggesting a mysterious and unsettling transformation.
  • A celebration intended to honor a miracle devolves into a disturbing ritual marked by distorted chants and unsettling invocations.
  • A statue mysteriously walks into a village, causing everyone to kneel and surrender their will, except for one person who remains paralyzed in disbelief.
• 22:52 🔮 A letter warns of a powerful presence, leading to a haunting dream and a disturbing ritual where a statue chooses a child, transforming villagers and revealing unsettling truths.
  • A letter reveals a warning about a powerful presence in the square, leading to a haunting dream and a sense of impending danger.
  • The village felt spiritually transformed, with its inhabitants moving in a silent, coordinated procession, surrounded by dark symbols and a sense of eerie detachment.
  • A person witnesses a disturbing ritual involving a statue, villagers, and children, while being physically restrained by an emotionless figure.
  • During a disturbing ritual, a statue seemingly chooses a child, leading to a trance-like state and unsettling transformations in the villagers, culminating in a bloodied Javier revealing that the statue has shown them something profound.
• 28:30 🕊 A mysterious woman arrives in a dark village, awakening a powerful presence and transforming Clara from a symbol of faith to a dark figure, as a Vatican ritual unfolds.
  • A mysterious woman in an unusual habit arrives in a village shrouded in darkness and silence, following a foreboding message from the Vatican.
  • A priest and a blindfolded woman discover a hidden shrine containing an ancient book, awakening something that cannot be put to rest.
  • A man reveals that a powerful presence is awakening in a village transformed into a ritualistic setting, as the seal weakens and the villagers prepare for an impending event.
  • A woman named Clara, once a symbol of faith and light in the village, transforms into a dark figure, signaling a shift from a battle for salvation to something far more profound and ominous.
  • Clara, overwhelmed by grief and a sense of connection, experiences a profound emotional release as she encounters the Blindfolded woman, leading to a moment of shared vulnerability and prayer.
  • A man from the Vatican presents a woman with a vial containing the blood of seven Martyrs, initiating a ritual that requires her voluntary acceptance to maintain its seal.
• 38:16 🕵 Clara transforms under a powerful entity, leading to violence and a chilling silence in the village as dark secrets and a gruesome discovery unfold, hinting at a deeper, ominous truth.
  • Clara, under the influence of a powerful entity, undergoes a dramatic transformation when a crucifix is placed in her hand, leading to a violent confrontation that leaves her unconscious but alive.
  • Clara, the vessel, is sealed while an ominous silence envelops the village, hinting at impending destruction.
  • The Vatican man discovers a disturbing scene in the chapel, revealing that he is the true entity behind the ritual, while the blindfolded woman serves merely as a key.
  • A child reports something strange in Don Vicente's barn, leading to the discovery of his gruesomely mutilated body with his chest ripped open and eyes sewn shut.
  • A mysterious presence communicates through an ancient book, revealing a dark connection to the narrator's experiences and the events in the village.
  • A sense of something significant is emerging behind the scenes, prompting an investigation into hidden truths that many ignore.
• 46:43 🔍 The world is on the brink of collapse, and signs of preparation are emerging while people remain unaware.

Summary for: https://youtu.be/KQ2wjsfeSfU by Noiz — YouTube Transcripter

• 00:00 I saw a statue walk. I saw children speaking in dead languages. I saw the face of God being replaced and when I tried to stop it she looked at me not with eyes but from the inside if you think faith and possession are different things. Then you need to hear what happened in that Village and before I go. Any further subscribe share this video with anyone who has the courage to listen to the end and check out. The G we left in the comments our ebook on global collapse where we show why stories like this may not be just fiction leave your opinion in the comments and prepare your mind because what you're about to hear isn't just a story. It's a warning few people know but evil doesn't always Roar sometimes it just watches. My name is Sebastian and to this day even after everything I still hesitate to say that story out loud because there are things that shouldn't be remembered and others that should never have been dug up. I was a priest at the time not out of Faith but because it was the only Refuge I had left. The cassak was my cell and my salvation until they sent me there a remote Village in the interior of Mexico where the dust dries up. The sky and faith is the only food for Souls. The parish was simple with faded walls and weathered benches. The wooden altar creaked with every step and the old Bell more silent than loud seemed tired of warning but there was a devotion there. That was so sincere it hurt and that's what gave me strength until the night of the storm. It was Friday the sky as clear as ever suddenly closed in as if a curtain had been drawn from. Beyond the first peels of Thunder didn't announc the rain. They pushed it on when it fell it seemed as if the sky wanted to sink into the Earth at midnight Don. Anesto disappeared one of the oldest men in the village he went out looking for an ox that had disappeared. He never came back in one piece. He told me later his voice. Horar and his gaze fixed on the emptiness that he had tripped over something hard while climbing the hill he thought it was a stone but when he raised his Flash light he saw it a statue buried up to its waist in mud black shiny with a face too calm to be human. It was about a meter tall and although it looked like it was made of plaster it had the weight of lead. The mud ran down it without touching it as if it rejected it. Don Ernesto torn between fear and faith called for Neighbors within minutes. The hill was filled with Shadows all holding lamps and hope and then they decided to take her as they walked through the village I noticed something it wasn't the weight of the figure or the Silence of the people. It was the air itself static no wind no sound. Even the dogs who always barked at nothing were silent when they placed the statue on the chapel table. The candles were lowered. The air cooled roled and a shiver ran through me as if something was whispering. Inside my bones they called her our black lady. They said it was a miracle a gift from Heaven a sign. But I I felt differently there was something in the Stillness of that face that wasn't silence it was lurking. The next morning I went into the chapel alone. The light streamed in from the side cutting through the dust suspended in the air. Someone had covered the statue with a white cloth but the cloth was damp as if it had absorbed something that had dripped off it. I lifted the cloth and I saw it traces dark marks running from the carved eyes. I touched it. It wasn't paint or clay. It was thick warm and when I put my fingers to my nose I knew without a doubt. It was BL blood. I took a step back I tried to find an explanation. Maybe some old pigment maybe rust but even as my brain searched for logic something in me screamed something ancient something that said you shouldn't have touched it. In the days that followed. The locals began to visit the chapel more frequently. They touched the statue they prayed. They made promises and I watched helplessly as each candle burned. Faster and each sense burned out sooner as if the space around that figure was sucking up time and then. The Whispers began in the Silence of the early morning I heard words in a language that my body recognized even if it didn't understand sounds that didn't come from outside. But from within Li I thought I was going mad until I saw it marks. Small Footprints deep ones like those of a Barefoot child but wet as if they had been through mud. They went from the church door to the table where the statue stood and then one night when I went to blow out the candles. I realized it had moved not much just a few centimeters but enough she was leaning slightly turned towards the church pews as if watching as if waiting my hand trembled. But I had to be sure I moved closer. I touched it and then I heard it but not with my ears. It was inside my head a thin voice almost sweet to say and at that moment I understood we didn't find her. She chose us. The next morning I opened. The chapel doors as usual but what I found outside. It wasn't routine more than 20 people.
• 06:27 Men women children all motionless like devotes in a trance. They weren't waiting for me nor for the mass they were waiting for her the statue they brought flowers colored candles images of saints. Ribbons cards objects of Faith but with a fervor that bordered on fever. The makeshift table where they had placed it on the night of the storm was buried by offerings. The original altar now looked like a faded backdrop. The black figure was the center of everything it's a miracle father. A real Miracle said Tia claraa with eyes that sparkled like those of a child seeing God. For the first time she answered my prayer said a man my son had been coughing for days. He was cured and then another and another everyone repeated stories of healings. Prophetic dreams inexplicable feelings of Peace. The chapel had become a magnet and the statue a living entity but what I saw wasn't faith. It was contagion an obsession growing in silence. A fever spreading like a virus through Souls during mass their gazes didn't touch me. They didn't seek the cross. They didn't follow my word. They were focused on her always her. The statue. Every word I uttered was swallowed up by that sculpted gaze as if I were preaching in front of an idol that bellied me with its silence on the third day they started calling her the virgin of Silence. The name Disturbed me because despite all the Euphoria the exaggerated devotion the promises made with tears. The statue never changed. It never smiled it never stretched out its hands. Its face remained calm too much as if that wasn't a sign of love but of waiting. Only I could see that and it began to consume me on the fourth night. I dreamt of her I was walking through the dark Chapel. Only a candle illuminated the statue's face and she was crying but the tears weren't tears of pain. They were corrosive where they fell the ground melted. The stone dissolved as if rejecting touch. Then she turned to me slowly as if her muscles hidden under the plaster were waking up and she said said with the voice of someone who had known me since before my baptism I am already in you. My son I woke up with my arms covered in marks. Nails mine from then on dreams became routine endless corridors white-eyed children crying in dead tongues bonfires with black flames and always her always in the center always repeating eoir on the sixth day. The offerings changed the flowers were gone instead a rooster with its neck. Twisted then a lamb and then someone hung a necklace made of Bones around the image. Nobody talked about it but everyone saw it and they accepted it. At night. The chapel was transformed during the day light and prayers at night. Worship I decided to act I called Don Pablo and three other Village leaders. We gathered in the Sacristy I showed the photos of the offerings I talked about the dreams the blood about the Sunday school children. One of whom drew the statue with red eyes and an inverted cross. They listened in silence. Don Pablo finally broke the silence father sometimes even God's gifts frighten us at first remember even Christ was rejected. This is is not Christ that feeds on what it looks at it devours with its eyes he didn't answer but his eyes. His eyes said that he already knew later Tia Clara came to me. Her eyes were deep she hadn't slept for days. Her face was the face of someone who has seen too much. She visits me in my dreams father. She said that we have been chosen that we need to prepare the space I asked what room the church basement he replied. It's almost ready to walk into I felt ice crawl up my spine. That night I delved into the parish archives. I found an old diary dated 1962 written by a priest who had served there and there between the stained. Pages was a violently written passage. An image was buried Black blind but not harmless it must be forgotten. If it is dug up. It will grow again. It will be seen again and the world will see only a face. I closed the diary I ran to the chapel. I opened the door and I saw her the statue was smiling but not with kindness what if all this I'm telling you about this silent fever this nameless adoration. This cult disguised as faith is just the beginning not just here but all over the world. Many people feel that something strange is going on. They can't explain it but they feel it like a force spreading inside what if it's true. If you also feel that the world is about to turn upside down there's a gift in the comments an ebook we've written for those who don't want to be caught by surprise when the collapse stops being a theory and knocks on the door read. It draw your own conclusions but do it before more Smiles start appearing on the wrong faces. The next morning something was wrong. The front Pew remained. Empty Don.
• 12:41 Oresto didn't show up for Mass. He was never absent not because of illness not because of a storm. He was the kind of man who carried his faith in his bones always sitting to the left of the altar Brown Beret hands clasped. Gaze fixed a silent pillar of the village I waited the sun rose the bell rang twice. The prayers began and ended but he didn't come. I went to his house. The door was a jar. A dry smell escaped from inside dense. It wasn't rot. It was something more metallic like old rust like aged blood. I called his name. No answer I went inside the house was alive with silence. The furniture creaked in the the wind that blew through a broken. Window. I climbed the three steps that led to the bedroom and then I saw him Don Ernesto on his knees on his back in front of an unlit candle. For a moment I thought he was praying but when I got closer I understood he wasn't breathing. He was petrified. His eyes were open but motionless his mouth AJ jar. His body bent as if frozen in supplication. I touched his shoulder and the cold ran up my arm. His skin was gray hard as Stone but there was something worse. His eyes moved slowly as if they were following something that wasn't there and when mine met his I Heard a Voice that didn't come from his mouth but that echoed inside me like a thought that didn't belong to me El eston. She's inside my stomach churned. I ran to the chapel. The statue was still on the altar immobile untouched but the ground around it. No there were Footprints small ones Barefoot like a child's but deep heavy as if the feet weren't stepping but sinking and they came from inside the base of the statue not towards it from. Within that night the village sank into a dense silence. It wasn't the Silence of peace. It was the Silence of waiting no children laughing no barking dogs. The lamps flickered without wind time seemed to hold its breath. I decided to go to the hill alone the place where she was dug up the wind up. There sounded different. It wasn't blowing it whispered as if it was saying words cut off by the Tongue among the branches I looked for signs Footprints something and I found it a hole open torn at the exact spot where the statue had been dug up. But it wasn't the hole that gave me the GPS. It was the sense of it dug. From the Inside Out the edges were frayed as if something had exploded to emerge inside an old wooden cross broken in three a piece of cloth caught in a splinter a torn cassic at the base of the Grave. An inscription carved with iron l D sunu. She sleeps beneath us on the way back I was approached by Ramon. One of the first to touch the statue his eyes were deep. His skin was pale and even in the cold he was sweating like he was feverish father do you feel. It feel what that she's waking up before I could answer he fell to his knees. He began to tremble his mouth. Open opened but no sound came out just air as if he was choking on his own scream. His eyes rolled back his veins popped. I ran I supported him and then he muttered she doesn't want to be worshipped. She wants to be followed immediately. He fainted his body was rigid like Don Ernesto 2 hours later. I heard about two more cases. A woman locked in her house was babbling in old French an 8-year-old boy called the statue black mama and said that she invited him to play at night I could see the beginning of the collapse but nobody could see it. Only me I called an emergency meeting. Only seven showed up. The others were feverish in pain very tired. But I knew they were listening to another voice in the Sacristy. I mentioned the statue maybe it's not a curse.
• 17:24 Father said Javier my sacristan. Maybe. It's a revelation. Faith has forms that we don't yet understand Javier. You know the signs you served with me during Lent. That's not Faith. That's a PCT. He looked at me and he smiled what if it is that night I dreamt of the statue again. But this time it was using my mother's voice. I woke up gasping with the feeling of having remembered something that had been ripped away from me. The next morning Don Ernesto was gone. The bed was empty. The house abandoned no sign of him except for a note on the kitchen table written in red Inc in a handwriting that looked old but newly made El aband poor Mar. She needs meat to walk on and that's when I understood we were no longer dealing with idolatry nor heresy nor Faith. What was walking Among Us was infestation. The morning after Don Ernesto appeared time stopped sounding human. It wasn't just silence or the weight of the gray Sun. It was something deeper as if the very fabric of reality had slowed down every step echoed too loudly. Every movement seemed to carry with it a shadow that no one could see but everyone could feel. People walked like dolls. They didn't greet each other. They didn't smile they just walked. I went to the chapel the statue remained where it had been left in the center of the altar but the atmosphere was no longer the same. The floor once clear now looked burnt blackened as if an invisible soot had seeped into the pores of the Stones. The Altar was stained. Not wax not wine. It was something thick dark that had dried to a rusty color when I tried to wipe it off with holy water. My hands burned a burning that went up my wrists like the stings of invisible ants. I let go of the cloth and I left the chapel in silence trying to stop the Panic from rising in my throat. It was then that I realized the village was reorganizing itself but not by human will. In the Central Square. A new altar had been built hastily made but with disturbing Precision black flowers white candles burning in odd pairs hand painted images all depicting a woman wrapped in a dark veil with no face. Just the outlines I asked who had started it. Everyone answered with the same phrase. It was already there father. It's always been there Tia Clara approached her face Serene. Her tone Sweet let's have a celebration she said in gratitude for the miracle. Miracle I replied holding back. My Fury Don Ernesto is gone Ramon is in a coma children whisper in dead languages that's not Faith. It's possession. She put her hand on my chest and for the first time her eyes had no light you're a good man father but you're afraid of the new. The celebration was scheduled for that evening in the square in the open air in front of everyone vigil of the dark light a name that made no sense or it made too much sense. At first it seemed like a party hymns candles prayers but the chants soon lost their tone. The voices trailed off the words became distorted and the sounds became invocations low guttural. As if someone was singing with their throat torn out and then she appeared. She wasn't carried. No one brought her she arrived alone. The statue walked down the steps of the chapel three steps with slow regular steps as if it were made of hard flesh and no longer Stone. It crossed the dirt road and stopped in the center of the square. Yes she walked. No one shouted no one ran away everyone knelt down even the children even the old. Even the sick I remained standing paralyzed not from fear but from a greater feeling impotence the ground shook the lamps exploded in blue Sparks and then silence absolute silence. The statue now clearly taller than before slowly raised its hand. No one touched it but they all fell like dry leaves like puppets cut by strings I ran I tried to lift the children. The elderly anyone everyone was breathing but they didn't respond. They slept with their eyes open and then in unison. Their lips moved but the voice it wasn't theirs passage. I am the passage. The statue didn't want bodies. It didn't want sacrifice. It wanted surrender not the flesh the will and in that instant I understood the whole village had given. In except me.
• 22:52 I went back to my house with my feet covered in dirt and my chest heaving with fear on the the doorstep a letter it was from Javier father forgive me for confronting you but now I. Understand she doesn't want us as enemies. She wants us as temples tomorrow at Sunrise. You'll see but don't try to stop her or you'll be the first to be broken. That night. I dreamt of Don Ernesto he was kneeling just like last time but there was a hole in his chest and inside it. The St statue was smiling. I woke up screaming and before the dream dissolved I heard a sound footsteps slow dragging like stones scraping against Stone I went to the window. She was there in the center of the square alone waiting. The next morning I woke up with the strange feeling that the village had disappeared not physically but spiritually actually as if a new Village had been built on the rubble of the old one. Using the same houses the same faces but with another Soul the windows were covered in dark Fabrics. The crosses were inverted. The altar in the Square had been enlarged with offerings that seemed straight out of a pagan nightmare. Dried. Animal heads black roses and glass containers containing. What could only be coagulated blood people walked in silence like Shadows without haste no for boing just going wherever they were summoned. Everyone wore Dark Shades. Even the children organized in ranks. Like little soldiers of the invisible I tried to talk to some of the locals no answer no looks. It was as if my presence was still allowed but no longer recognized at midday. The chapel bell rang a single dry stroke loud as enough to go through bones. Everyone stopped everyone looked up and then they started walking a silent coordinated procession without any command. I followed them from a distance my heart beating to the rhythm of what I still didn't understand in the Square. She was there the statue it hadn't been brought. It was already there on top of a high altar now shaped like a throne aged wood symbols that burned the eyes just to look at Javier was kneeling in front of it dressed in a black cloak sewn by hand made for a purpose that only he understood. He muttered words in a language that my mind rejected a language that made my skull hurt around him. Seven villagers formed a circle holding hands. Eyes closed in the center. Three children blindfolded dark veils over their heads like Lambs being prepared for a right that wasn't faith it was worship when I tried to interrupt a hand grabbed me tightly tear Clara. The emotionless look the touch as cold as Stone today is Veil day father. The handing over must happen I tried to let go of her arm but she squeezed with a force impossible for someone her age it nearly broke my bones. My screams were ignored. The seven around the statue began to babble words without meaning as if they had been ripped from their throats by an external will. The wind blew strongly even though the sky was clear the candles around the altar lit themselves and they burst into black Flames. The altar began to pulsate as if it had a heart and then it moved. The statue turned its head slightly in Javier's Direction. That's when I understood she was choosing one by one Javier was the first to be touched with Trembling Hands. He lifted one of the children he brought his forehead close to the statue's hand. The new time needs a new vessel. The touch was light but the effect devastating the child went into a trance it trembled. Her mouth foamed her eyes when the veil fell were black completely. She accepted AIA shouted the crowd fell to their knees as if obeying an internal command glory to the one who walks between the veils. I shouted I asked them to stop I begged them. This is heresy it's insanity. This isn't Faith. It's surrender nobody heard me my voice no longer existed. There they had crossed the point of return that same night the whole village gathered in the chapel. The first internal vigil doors locked no lights just the candles and there still Smiles I stayed outside. At midnight. I heard voices dozens hundreds and no humans screams. They started. At 003. They stopped at 006 when the door opened. The residents came out silent motionless. Their eyes were fixed but they were all smiling. Javier approached. He was covered in blood up to his neck. He wasn't shaking. He wasn't crying. He just whispered she she showed us.
• 28:30 She showed us what comes after death and then it fell it collapsed as if it had been emptied. Over the next few days. The Village closed itself off from the world animals didn't come near it. The vegetation dried up and at dusk the chapel bell rang alone. It made a sound like crying. Then I received the envelope no sender inside just a sheet of paper. The Vatican Insignia and a sentence handwritten in red ink prepare the seal we're coming the morning. The Vatican men arrived. The sky was darker than it should have been. There were no clouds no storm but the shadow that hung over the village was dense as if the sky itself were in mourning three black. Vehicles drove through the entrance to the square and they stopped. They stood there for long minutes. Engines off Windows closed people watched from inside their houses. Their faces half covered by dark veils. No one came out no one spoke as if they had been waiting for this for Generations I went out to meet them. The first to come out was a tall man pale skin deep wrinkles eyes so clear. They looked milky. He didn't smile. He didn't say his name he just opened the back door of the car. Out of it came her a woman with an old habit. Unlike anything I had ever seen. Her eyes were covered by a White Band. Even so I felt that she could see me are you the priest she asked in a voice that sounded as if it came from underground. I nodded she answered with just three words. Where is she it took them less than 30 minutes to enter the chapel. No one tried to stop them. No one even moved the village just watched. The chapel seemed empty but it wasn't silent there was a sound breathing or maybe Whispers as if the walls were praying in secret. The statue remained in the center the man with the whitish eyes knelt down. He took a small golden key out of his pocket with inscriptions in ancient Latin. He whispered something that my mind was unable to absorb the ground shook. A hollow sound echoed from The Altar and then part of the floor gave way a staircase ancient of Black Stone descending into the bowels of the Earth. The Blindfolded woman approached the edge she turned to me. What has been awakened can no longer be put to sleep. I followed them. The staircase seemed to have no end with each step. The temperature dropped dropped and the walls pulsed yes. They pulsed like living flesh at the end. An iron door covered in locks. Arcane symbols and candles melted to the base. The woman removed the band from her eyes and that's when I understood her. Eyelids were sewn shut. She muttered something a prayer or a lament. She put her hand against the door. The symbols glowed for an instant and then they faded the door opened with a dry crack and the air that came out smelled of ancient death. Inside. It wasn't just a basement. It was a shrine of Agony in the center a stone pedestal on it a book ancient aged chained by seven metal rings. This is the final Veil said the man the original seal if it opens completely she will go through. He turned to me. His voice was unhurried like someone who seen too much. The statue is just the conductor the body but the spirit is here around the book. There were faces. Faces carved into the stone. All with an expression of absolute suffering their eyes were wide open as if they were seeing something that had driven them mad. These are the first seven he said the ones who tried to stop the ritual. Now their souls are the warning the Blindfolded woman approached the book without touching it just feeling it. She's talking. She whispered she's promising she's lying and then one of the Rings broke alone. No strength no movement it just gave way the man fell to his knees. She knows we're here she feels the seal is weak. It was then that the Chapel Bells sounded but not in Chimes a Melody. A soft song like a lullabi sung backwards and above in the houses people began to move not in fear not in a hurry with reverence as if they were preparing themselves she's already. Among them said the man and they no longer want to save themselves. When we went up. It was already night no electric lights. Only candles all positioned with surgical Precision Doors Windows sidewalks forming lines forming a circle. The whole village had been transformed into a ritualistic diagram. The chapel empty the statue gone where is it. I asked my throat dry. The Blindfolded woman raised her face. She sniffed the air. She's gone and she's looking for the final body and before I could react the candles around us went out at the same time all of them silence and then a single candle was lit on the other side of the square in front of my house. Inside there was Clara her eyes as black as pitch smiling father she said with monstrous tenderness. She made her choice and it was at that moment that I understood it was no longer a battle for the Salvation of a village. It was something greater something before language. Before Time and now she was on the loose. Clara was a woman of Faith one of the first to welcome me when I arrived in the village always with a blue scarf tied in her hair. Her Rosary clasped between her fingers and her gaze turned towards the altar as if she were talking to the Divine. She was the first to light the candles in the chapel the last to leave after Mass and her prayers. They came from a sincere Place sorrowful so when I saw her standing in front of my house surrounded by a single lit candle while the rest of the village was plunged into darkness something in me broke I wasn't claraa anymore not completely. Her smile was the same but her eyes were gone in their place. Two two dark liquid cavities where the light entered and didn't return Bottomless Pits. The Blindfolded woman and the man from the Vatican were behind me. Neither of them dared to say a word father said Clara with an almost childlike tenderness she chose me. She said that my heart was pure that my pain was ancient and that with her I would never suffer again. I remembered your last confession 2 months earlier. She was crying trembling talking about the loss of her son. A baby who was still born his absence is a hole father and that hole grows it swallows everything up. Now that emptiness had found a voice. The Blindfolded woman approached. She stopped in front of Clara. She held out her hand are you still there. Clara didn't answer but she tilted her head as if she heard something coming from inside her I I think so she whispered and then she fell to her knees her hands in her hair. His body jerked in involuntary spasms and from his lips came a wail not a scream but an ancient choir multiple voices overlapping ages languages that belong to no corner of the world. The blindfold folded woman also fell to her knees in prayer. She opened. The carrier opened it. She murmured the man from the Vatican held me tight now either she is sealed or she will be released and there will be no turning back. He took out a small glass vial from his coat. The golden liquid inside vibrated like something alive the blood of seven Martyrs. That's what SEALs it. But it has to be voluntary. She has to accept and if she doesn't then the seal breaks and it spreads the candles in the village began to relight alone one by one forming lines circles symbols. The ritual had begun and no one else was in control.
• 38:16 The Entity was gaining strength I knelt in front of Clara. Her eyes were still dark Wells but there was something tremendous there you know me you know this place. You know the pain but you also know the light remember the clear mornings here the smell of bread coming out of the oven the children running around in the Square. This is yours Clara. That is you don't let it erase. Everything what came in response was a low laugh but it didn't come from Clara's lips. It came from within. They've forgotten me father so have you but she no the bottle in the man's hands began to boil. The energy was becoming unbearable. She's coming whispered the Blindfolded woman. It's now or never on an Impulse I took out my crucifix. I placed it in Clara's Palm. The metal smoked but she didn't let go. She cried. She screamed she trembled and then she said do it. The man came closer. He broke the bottle over her forehead. The gold golden liquid spread across her face. It ran down her eyes down her mouth and when it touched the ground the Earth vibrated. Clara arched her back a high pitched non-human scream exploded from her gut. The candles around her lit up in blue flames and then they all went out silence dense. Total. Clara fell to the floor she was still breathing but she was unconscious. I approached her I touched her face her eyes had come back. They were hers claraa again but in the distance beyond the houses. At the top of the hill. A single candle remained burning the same Hill where Don anesto found the statue. The Vatican man stared at it his face expressionless. It's not over yet but Clara has been sealed. I said hopefully he answered without emotion. Claraa was the vessel but the entity once more the Blindfolded woman raised her face to the sky. The door was opened and what he passed through. It is Among Us during the early hours of the morning while we took care of Clara The Village was plunged into absolute silence but it wasn't peace. It was waiting that kind of dense emptiness like the second before impact the calm that comes before destruction. Clara slept with a Serene countenance for the first time. In days the candles had gone out the Whispers had stopped. The Entity had retreated or so. It seemed then came The Knocks dry three like hammers on the chapel door. The same one that had remained sealed since the ritual. The man from the Vatican suddenly stood up like a dog that catches the scent of a wolf. The Blindfolded woman whispered. It's not her. It's him. We went into the church. The wood of the door was cracked but on the inside as if something had exploded from the inside out I pushed slowly. The door creaked heavy slow and what I saw there will accompany me until the end of my days. The statue was destroyed but not broken like Stone Broken. Like an egg the fragments weren't plaster. They were of something organic inside. There was flesh tissues that pulsed black dry veins on the floor deformed. Footprints like those of a body born of Agony blood dripping down the walls and in the center of the Nave. An inverted cross made of burning candles the man from the Vatican knelt down. He touched one of the symbols with his fingertips he paled he wasn't in it. She was just the key he was the one on the other side. The Blindfolded woman shuddered. She was the womb but he was already walking. Among Us. She just opened the door my heart was pounding. Reason wanted to deny it but my body knew there was no turning back the next morning. A child called me he said there was something strange in Don. Vicente's Barn I went alone. The Village seemed suspended the Mist hung low. The Sounds muffled on the way one detail chilled me the dogs were back but they weren't barking. They just stared all fixed in the same direction. The barn I pushed open the door. The hay was churned up as if something big had had crawled in at the bottom. The body Don Vicente dead open but not like the others. His chest had been ripped open from the inside out and his eyes sewn shut with. Black threads on the ceiling nail stuck a message in Latin. Even without translation I understood the flesh has opened the way now comes the word I ran back to the Village but it was normal. Clean organized the houses were shining the windows were open. People smiled they greeted me as if nothing had happened as if no one had died as if claraa had never been possessed as if the weeks of Terror hadn't existed. I entered the chapel the altar was intact. The candles were lit the statue absent and then I heard it father. It was her voice clear smiling blue scarf in her hair light dress calm but at the corner of her mouth oozed something black thin dense. Like ink she came closer. She looked into my eyes. You should rest you're getting too tired. She touched my face gently but his hand was rigid icy like Stone on the altar. Now there was something new a book an old one aged leather. No title just a burnt symbol on the cover the same candle cross inverted I touched the surface of the book and then I heard it not with my ears but inside my mind a whisper a laugh a voice. A promise V laort mat Vu you opened the door for me. Uh now I speak through you and if you think this story is over then you need to see what was written on the first page of that book because it was not written by human hands and what was there was about me if you've come this far. It's because you feel it maybe you can't explain it. But you feel it. You know that feeling that something is forming behind the curtain that the world is different like where all following a routine while in the shadows something is growing. I felt that too that's what led me to investigate to immerse myself in these stories and what I discovered changed everything so if this video gave you a chill if some part of it touched something you've never told. Anyone then leave your like subscribe to the channel and activate the Bell because here we talk about what many people pretend isn't happening and share this video with someone. You feel needs to see it someone who like you has already noticed the signs Oh and before I forget there's something important in the comments attached. It's not just an ebook. It's a gift that's still available but not for long few copies. No ads only for those who really pay attention. There.
• 46:43 We don't talk about stories. Like this. We talk about the reality behind them what is being prepared while the world sleeps. If you feel that everything is about to collapse. It's not just paranoia. It's preparation check out the present below and let me know in the comments are you seeing the signs to.

Summary for: https://youtu.be/KQ2wjsfeSfU by Noiz — Transcript From YouTube Video