The Ninth Hour of Malachi : SEASON 3

A Romanian Exorcism of an Ancient, Hungry Presence | SEASON 3: When a Demon Knows Your Mother's Name

By Tales That Breathe at NightPublished about 2 hours ago • 5 min read

Ana Popescu's body is horrifically fused with the chamber wall, her skin transitioning into rough, dark crystalline rock in a grotesque merger of flesh and stone

SEASON 3

Chapter 9

FATHER PAVEL’S PRIVATE JOURNAL: Entry dated November 5th, 2003. We found the root. It is a chamber beneath the foundation, clearly pagan. Ana is down here, but she is barely visible, encased in some type of crystalline growth...the stone has accepted the entity, and the girl is the final mortar. The anchor is here, not a relic, but a crude, petrified heart. Malachi will not yield until we destroy the physical core of its power.

A circular, ancient stone chamber deep beneath a Romanian monastery, the air shimmering with heat and vibrating with a deep, rhythmic thrumming

They ignored the tormenting visions, driving forward until the catacomb passage ended at a small, circular chamber. The air was now stiflingly hot, and the rhythmic thrumming was so loud it vibrated in their bones, a sound like a giant, slow-beating heart.

Ana Popescu's body is horrifically fused with the chamber wall, her skin transitioning into rough, dark crystalline rock in a grotesque merger of flesh and stone

In the center of the chamber, Ana Popescu was visible, but not whole. Her body was partially encased in a rough, crystalline growth that seemed to be part of the stone foundation, her skin merging seamlessly with the rough, dark rock. She was barely visible, a horrifying figure of marble and flesh, a terrifying monument to Malachi's destructive power.

The Entity (A vast, echoing voice from the walls): "Ana is gone, Sorin. She is the rock now. She is mine. But you… you are the keeper of the flame. You will be my final, beautiful sin."

The walls of the chamber pulsed with a dark, oily light. Malachi was now speaking through the entire building. The focus was no longer on temptation, but on a terrifying physical assimilation.

A close-up of the anchor: a crude, fist-sized heart carved from dark petrified wood, resting at the base of a crystalline growth, pulsing with dark energy

They had found the victim, but to save her, they had to destroy the physical structure itself. Pavel's eyes fixed on a small, dark object at the base of the crystalline growth....a crude, petrified heart, ancient and cold. The anchor.

Chapter 10

FATHER PAVEL’S PRIVATE JOURNAL: Entry dated November 5th, 2003 (Climax). We have reached the core. The heart is petrified wood, not actual tissue, but its function is the same: to bind the spiritual rot to the earth. To buy Sorin time, I must perform the Rite of Distraction...a forbidden rite that draws the full attention of the entity, offering my own soul as bait.

Father Pavel grips his crucifix, his face a mask of resolute despair as he prepares to perform the Rite of Distraction, offering himself as bait

The sight of Ana, half-stone and half-flesh, was an unspeakable horror that froze Sorin for a moment. But Father Pavel was already moving, his eyes fixed on the petrified heart lying at the base of the crystalline growth. He knew they couldn't fight the entire mountain; they had to sever the anchor.

Pavel: "There is no more time for prayer, Sorin. We must break the heart. It is the physical memory that holds Malachi to this stone."

Sorin: "But how, Father? I can't even touch her without the creature striking me down!"

Pavel: "You will not touch her. You will go for the core. I will draw its attention." Pavel gripped his worn, silver crucifix, his face a mask of grim determination. "I will perform the Rite of Distraction. It will focus Malachi's entire consciousness on me. You will have exactly one minute."

A fleeting vision of a forgotten tomb under an altar, revealing the skeletal remains of a founding priest—a direct ancestor of Father Pavel

The entity, speaking now with Ana's voice overlaid with the vast echo of the mountain, shrieked in triumph.

Malachi (From the stone): "Old fool! You offer a lifetime of doubt and secret sin! You are a hollow prize! But I will take your fear first."

The circular chamber erupts as Malachi focuses its rage; the walls pulse with violent, dark light and cracks race across the floor and ceiling

The chamber walls pulsed violently, and a final, devastating vision flooded Pavel's mind: a forgotten tomb beneath the altar, holding the desiccated remains of a priest who had founded the monastery...a priest with Pavel’s own family name. The ultimate sin of the monastery was a betrayal woven into his own lineage.

Chapter 11

BROKEN DOCUMENTED FACT: The geological structure beneath the Monastery is composed of a rare sedimentary rock rich in iron and dark minerals. Local folklore suggests the mountain itself is sentient and unforgiving, prone to violent tremors only when certain "unholy objects" are disturbed deep within its crust.

Pavel began the forbidden rite, a low, guttural chant in Aramaic that wasn't a prayer but a direct, defiant challenge. The entire catacomb chamber shook, the rhythmic thrumming intensifying into a bone-rattling roar. Malachi, enraged by the direct attack on its consciousness, released Ana's physical form from its control.

The figure of Ana, still half-encased in crystal, ripped itself free from the stone, moving with impossible speed. It was a terrifying, physical extension of Malachi's rage. It launched itself at Pavel, who stood his ground, letting the full force of the entity's spiritual anger wash over him.

Pavel: "Now, Sorin! Now, or we are lost!"

Sorin, snapping out of his terrified paralysis, raced toward the petrified heart. As he reached the anchor, the floor around him dissolved into the bubbling, black, oily substance. The tormented, ghostly figures of the monks from Chapter 8 materialized around him, clawing at his legs and whispering the painful regrets he carried.

Malachi (A thousand despairing voices): "You watched! You were spared! Why do you break the family? Join us, Sorin! Be silent!"

Sorin ignored the screams, drawing his small, unconsecrated Cyprian Relic...the petrified wooden cross...and raising it above the ancient heart. He didn't recite a ritual; he simply screamed a single word of raw faith, plunging the point of the wooden cross directly into the center of the petrified heart.