«Closing the soul of history: Revel collection» 2. Pavel Groznov

for his strictness and unyielding will. It was said that he could set even the most lost sheep back on the right path. Johann von Schaumburg hoped that the harsh climate of Revel and the iron discipline of the monastery would cool the ardor of the young monk.

      The thirst to preach, to share his thoughts, consumed Johann von Hilten from within like a flame. He dreamed of the glory of the great orators of the past, but his own words stumbled and fell, like crippled birds, crashing against the wall of misunderstanding from those around him. His soul burned, like red-hot iron, at the indifference of his fellow believers to anything but the desire to fill their bellies.

      And in that moment of despair, when the darkness of madness thickened around his mind, a whisper, ancient and seductive, rustled from the depths of his tormented soul. The enemy of mankind offered a deal, and Johann, blinded by the desire to become a spiritual leader and teach people his truth, reached out to the darkness, selling his soul.

      Nightmare in the Merchant’s House

      On that fateful evening, when the cog from distant western lands dropped anchor in the harbor of Revel, no one could foresee the impending horrific events.

      Under the bright autumn sun, Dietrich and Johann disembarked and headed to the merchant’s house. Bewitched by the monk’s speeches, the merchant invited him into his home, unaware that this visit would mark the beginning of a nightmare.

      In honor of Dietrich’s happy return, a festive feast was arranged. And so, as wine flowed like a river and laughter filled the hall, Johann of Hilten rose from the table and began his devilish sermon. His words, like sharp daggers, pierced the hearts of the listeners, sowing doubt and fear.

      In the spacious hall, the heart of the medieval house, where life once thrived, trade flourished, and noisy feasts were held, now a suffocating silence reigned. The faces of the merchant’s daughters, illuminated by the flickering candlelight, resembled masks frozen in a grimace of primal terror mixed with some twisted delight. The older sisters, as if possessed, stared at the heretic with wide, unblinking eyes. In their souls, once pure and innocent, heretical words and forbidden excitement now intertwined, clouding the girls’ gazes and making their breaths rapid and shallow.

      Margarete, the merchant’s beloved stepdaughter, felt the icy fingers of fear tightening around her heart. She could not believe that this man, once a servant of God, could spew such vile, blasphemous words. Beside her stood Hermann, the apprentice and student of the merchant, their hands intertwined. The young couple had long loved each other and dreamed of marriage. In their eyes, filled with horror at what was happening, a spark of defiance still smoldered. The younger daughters of the merchant, paralyzed by fear, huddled close to Margarete, who had replaced their deceased mother after her death in childbirth.

      The old nanny, the girl’s godmother, as if awakening from a centuries-long sleep, raised her shriveled hand, entwined with veins resembling winding rivers and mountain ridges on ancient maps drawn on parchment. The wrinkles on her face formed ancient runes. Her lips moved, and words flowed from them in a language that had not been heard in these lands since the elves left the forests.

      The air around trembled. A mysterious force enveloped the enamored couple, weaving into a protective cocoon. The heretic’s spells fell away, and the young people felt as if the tight noose of a gallows had been removed from their necks, replaced instead by a gentle silk scarf woven from hope and joy.

      A black cat writhed at the feet of the former monk, as if possessed by a demon, emitting a guttural hiss. The merchant’s loyal dog transformed into a fierce Cerberus, bristling and growling menacingly, baring its fangs to protect its young mistress.

      The air in the hall buzzed like a taut bowstring ready to release a poisoned arrow. A fairy, shining like the embodiment of light itself, hovered in the air, showering the renegade with a hail of dazzling sparks that burned into his essence. Her laughter, once gentle like the chime of silver bells, now sounded sharp and piercing, like a blade plunging into the heart of the former monk. Victory was within reach.

      At that moment, the floor beneath them trembled, cracking and splitting apart. From the gaping abyss erupted a sulfurous whirlwind. The renegade howled in pain, his body contorting and stretching, merging with the otherworldly force. When the whirlwind dissipated, a monster rose in its place, its skin resembling charred bark, and where its eyes should have been, there were gaping voids leading into an unfathomable emptiness.

      From its mouth, lined with sharp, dagger-like teeth, dripped black saliva, eroding the stone floor like acid. Clawed paws, resembling the roots of an ancient tree, left deep furrows on the stone tiles. The monster let out a deafening roar that shook not only the walls of the hall but also the hearts of all present. The walls of the hall were ensnared by a thick network of cracks, like a spider web ensnaring its prey.

      Men, once proud and strong, found themselves on their knees, their hearts pounding with terror, and their lips whispering incoherent pleas for mercy. The ladies, deprived of consciousness, fell to the floor, their beautiful faces twisted in grotesque grimaces of madness, while their silk and velvet dresses scattered around like vibrant butterflies, resembling the fallen wings of exotic moths. The faint-hearted breathed their last, unable to endure the nightmare, their lifeless bodies frozen in silent testimony to the horror that engulfed the hall.

      The fairy, gathering her last strength, attempted to defend herself, but the creature was faster. With inhuman fury, it clawed at the radiant figure of the fairy, tearing her apart like a doll. A burst of silver sparks, like the final breath of a dying star, shot upwards and slowly faded into the embrace of darkness, leaving behind only emptiness and despair.

      In the final moment, gathering the remaining fragments of her strength, the kind sorceress waved her hand, and an invisible wall appeared between Margarete and Hermann. Their bodies began to change, bones hardening, skin roughening, turning into cold stone. They screamed, but their voices drowned in the roar of battle, like raindrops in a raging sea. In an instant, they became two towers connected by a fortress wall made of the same limestone as the walls of Revel. This wall, born from their love and sacrifice, became an indestructible shield, protecting the city from enemy sieges for centuries. The Long Hermann Tower and the Fat Margarete Tower stand as eternal symbols of the struggle between light and darkness, loyalty and hatred, life and death, rising above the city like silent guardians. And even in this tragic outcome, there is a victory: their love was not destroyed; it was elevated to the heavens and immortalized in the memory of the people.

      Viimsi, September 2024

      Gesecke’s story

      The last words of the legend faded, and a tense silence filled the room. The friends exchanged glances, awaiting the continuation. The witch took a final sip of her cold drink and, after a pause, continued the story: