In the heart of St. Petersburg Square, where the faint whispers of history echo through the cobblestone pathways, Cardinal Clemente sat upon a weathered bench, his silhouette cast against the backdrop of ornate cathedrals and bustling streets. The morning sun cast a soft golden glow upon his solemn countenance as he absently tossed morsels of bread to the flock of pigeons that pecked at the ground around him.

  In this moment of solitary contemplation, the familiar figure of Archbishop Stephen LaRosa emerged from the throng of passersby. With measured steps, he approached his longtime friend, his presence a comforting beacon amidst the Cardinal's inner turmoil.

  “May I sit with you, my friend?” Archbishop LaRosa's voice, rich with warmth and concern

  “Yes, please do Stephen. How have you been, it has been a while since we have last spoken.”

  “I am well Xavier,” Archbishop LaRosa responded, taking a seat beside the Cardinal. His keen gaze, honed by years of wisdom and experience, saw through the facade of composure that Cardinal Clemente struggled to maintain. “If I may ask, why do you look so forlorn, like you carry the weight of the world upon your shoulders,”

  Cardinal Clemente's shoulders sagged imperceptibly, a silent admission of the burden he bore. "Stephen, I am struggling," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I find myself at odds with my conscience. I fear that I have strayed from the path of righteousness, that I have compromised my beliefs in pursuit of worldly matters."

  Archbishop Stephen LaRosa, ever the stalwart confidant, listened attentively, his brow furrowed with concern as he sought to offer solace to his friend. “Why not turn your back to these issues and find comfort in the Lord?” A wistful sigh escaped Cardinal Clemente's lips as he shook his head slowly. “I will need more assistance to remove myself from this matter, anyways enough of my worldly problems. Please tell me about your doings, how is your sister? Well I hope, and of your work in South America?”

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  Archbishop LaRosa's features softened as he spoke of his beloved sister, a flicker of pride dancing in his eyes. “My sister is doing well, at least the last time we talked. She was helping a priest with his church activities in Massachusetts. It is a relief to hear that she is not following a pagan life any longer, and the work with The Order of St. Michael's is particularly challenging, to say the least.” “

  Cardinal Clemente, intrigued by this unfamiliar aspect of his friend's life, leaned in closer, his curiosity piqued. "I am not familiar with that order. What is it that they do?"

  “We perform exorcisms in South America, all the villages that we receive reports on possessions and infestations from.” Wide-eyed, the Cardinal swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “That must be a challenging task, possibly a monumental one. Are you getting confirmed cases, that these poor people are possessed?”

  “Yes, we are, many of them are possessed with much more infestations than in history. That is why I am here at the Vatican, to report to the Pope on the dire situation, I have never seen anything like this. It is almost like hell has opened up and the evil is spreading like ants.”

  Cardinal Clemente's brow furrowed with concern as he absorbed the gravity of Archbishop LaRosa's report. “My Lord this is very concerning news, I hope and pray you will be able to overcome this dismal situation.”

  “Thank you, my friend,” Archbishop LaRosa replied, his expression a mixture of gratitude and determination. “Well, enough of this macabre talk. I must hurry along now, please my friend if you need to talk call me anytime, day or night.”

  “I will thank you, my friend, Godspeed to you.” After a short embrace, the Archbishop set off to meet the Pope, leaving Cardinal Clemente alone to ponder the news. His doubts, fears, and misgivings are all starting to swell in his mind. Knowing what he has done will make doing what he has to do even more difficult. He turned and quickly walked away heading to the sanctuary of the basilica.