Fatal Blow - Golpe fatal
Fatal Blow One, two, three ... The tower clock began to chime to say goodbye to the year. The unusual image of the empty medieval square and poorly lit by four small torches, left a trace of discouragement in the souls that, kidnapped by the pandemic, wandered through imaginary universes looking for something that would give them hope. Before the last bell that would dismiss the year sounded, the abbot turned his gaze to heaven, begging for a divine sign to end that pandemic. A faint little light appeared in the distance and slowly became more visible as he approached the square. A picosatellite the size of the abbot's book of hours slowed until it was within inches of the stunned abbot. Addressing him in ancient Latin, the voice of the picosatellite told him that inside it was carrying the offering that, coming from heaven, would end the pandemic. It continued saying that like happened with the miracle of the loaves and fishes, that the holy water that all people should drin...