February 1st, 1922

  Eliza gets all her suitcases ready. The brown wooden color of those two suitcases were twice as big as her own skinny body size. She, as usual, washes her face, still in disbelief that she’s on an expedition that the Chapel has assigned her. She looks at herself in the mirror, fitting in the long coat that covers her knees, and she brushes her semi-long pixie-cut white-blond hair. She inhaled while looking at her reflection her shoulders straight, and took in how proper she looked before embarking on a trip. Then, she put the beret on her head and took the black crocheted scarf, wrapping it around her neck.

  Eliza took the letter that Dmitri had written, which contained the ship and train tickets inside. She tried to skim again every word written by that Ruskyiev man himself. When she absorbed the words from the letter again, she quietly wondered, what was the man’s actual purpose in choosing one of Chapel of Fatima’s members on this trip? Not only that, but were there any more members from other branches of Christianity along the way? Or shall this be the moment Eliza is truly chosen? Without wasting any more time, Eliza carried her two suitcases, walking down carefully on the small, shallow steps made of cobblestones.

  As she steps off the Chapel of Fatima, for the first time leaving this place she called home, she is greeted by the nuns and postulants as well as Father Simon, waiting to wave goodbye on her departure to the Royal Empire of Ruskyiev. Mother Claudia, who rarely smiles, finally smiles widely, like a proud grandmother seeing how her granddaughter has gone far for the first time. She took off her crucifix necklace she had worn for the rest of her life, placed it on Eliza’s neck, and said, “Here, this powerful protection of Christ and Mother Our Lady of Fatima will protect you.” Mother Claudia said.

  “Thank you, Mother Agnes…” Eliza said, as if the embarrassment from all the years she used to be defiant was weighing down on her. Mother Claudia can already sense this down-on-earth side of Eliza, places her palm on her shoulder, and says, “You are always forgiven from the day you were born, child; now you must go,” says Mother Claudia. Eliza felt so free when she said it, and everyone around waved at her. She left with the help of Mr. Gordon, a friend of Father Simon, who would drive her to the harbor.

  Eliza Kalinin’s diary:

  FEBRUARY 1ST, 1922,

  It is the day when I depart from the holy chapel I call home. Uncle Gordon was the one who drove me to the harbor, where he would sail me to Eastern Europe. Then I will have to use the train ticket that drives me to the Slavic monarchy country, known as the Royal Nation of Ruskyiev. I am both anxious and truly curious about how far this expedition will get me.

  What new thing will I learn from this? What kind of person will the Duke be? If only I had enough ability, I might be predicting the future by now, but well, God has planned all well. It will take miles for me to arrive, but somehow I truly believe that the members of the Chapel of Fatima have sent lots of prayers to me, so I will be safe soon.

  Eliza

  The breezy morning at the harbor, along with the evaporating noises of the ocean breeze, makes the morning better. The passengers, consisting of Americans of various descendants, Italians, French, Serbians, and Slovaks, as well as the Russian visitors, were ready to depart onto the ship themselves. Mr. Gordon is kind enough to have his friend Father Simon lift Eliza’s suitcases onto the ship.

  “The ship is departing in a few minutes!” The crew member shouted from the second floor before getting his head out of sight to continue his job.

  I showed the sailor who took care of the line my tickets without anything, and finally found my seat. The ship RMS Konstantin was an American-brand ship used for taking passengers indirectly to Eastern Europe. Alas, the service itself is satisfying and calming, so Eliza guesses that Duke Dimitri knows how to serve the guests' accommodation after all, and to visit him. As she calmly sat down on the prepared seat, she heard some Slavic-like language spoken by a lady with her six-year-old son. And for some reason, it gives her a foreign-like, yet strange, sensation of belonging. Her last name was Kalinin. She had white-blond hair with absolutely fair skin, a broad yet thick nose bridge, and blue eyes, just like a Rus'. Eliza wonders, is this going to be a chance she will discover her heritage? She slapped herself a little bit at that moment, trying to focus on solving this assigned mission.

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  Throughout the whole trip, she's been reading Psalms with the hope that she arrives safely. No one on the ship even bothers her. rested her face on the ledge of the window, looking at how far away she is now from America.

  The ten nights that became the time Eliza had to wait were what made her dream that she told Sister Collins about the dream. The ten nights she spent waiting blurred together, and by the end of them, the dream she told Sister Collins almost felt real.

  Eliza’s diary:

  5th February 1922

  It is getting more absurd. I have barely arrived in Eastern Europe, yet those dreams are still getting to me. The constant horrendous feelings of getting my windpipe compressed, the prick-like pain as if someone with razor blade teeth bit me, as well as the feeling of being stuck in the same colorful place with paintings of saints all around the wall in the dark, and I couldn’t do anything but just miserably stuck there, waiting for that predator to eat me up. This isn’t the first night on the ship; the dream has repeated. It’s been almost seven days now. In the name of Jesus’s mother, Fatima, I have no clue about things that would be bound to happen. I must keep my curiosity resonating lively for me to be able to solve the mission. Mother Claudia would be very proud if she finally made the idea of the Chapel of Fatima become a great institution come true.

  Hitherto, I shall keep myself composed during God’s expedition.

  Eliza

  Alas, Eliza has arrived in French Harbor; many overworked men were there, checking each vehicle coming from the ship’s boat. Eliza took a train from Lourdes, which took her all the way across France, Germany, and Poland before finally reaching the Royal Empire of Ruskyiev’.

  The train arrival took long hours before finally reaching St. Petersburg, the exact place where the Basilica Castle of Divulge Blood is located. Eliza has to walk further. However, the longer she walks, the foggier the condition of the place seems. Perhaps it is from Northeastern Europe’s level of cold, when actually it is supposed to be spring here, but St. Petersburg is way too cold.

  The entrance to the town of St. Petersburg is just rather uncanny yet mesmerizing. The architecture is rather just the mere sight of beauty from the traditional Rus's custom of design. The joyful colors are accompanied by the signature of its aesthetics, as if it dates back to the folklore times of matryoshka dolls. At the same time, the society among them is just rather cold or probably reserved when seeing an American tourist or foreigners in general entering their realm.

  Just a few more walks, and the sight of the Basilica Castle is visible. Eliza became speechless at how wonderful the mere sight of it was, yet got chills, probably due to how intimidating it seemed in the dark. She checked her golden pocket watch, gifted by Sister Collins, and the clock had struck twelve o’clock now. It is no wonder that the environment is terrifying now.

  “My goodness, it’s late at night; I'd better approach the door quickly, and the members of this place shall let me in,” Eliza exclaimed to herself, feeling an urge now to get into the place, or worse could have happened.

  Eliza, before she continues, looks up to her again, noticing each aesthetic detail of the Basilica Castle itself. Very colorful, yet it holds some mystery of this claimed holiest place. The main building of the Basilica Castle, in a brown yet bright gold color, is accompanied by the six towers that have spherical domes with triangular edges. Each dome has different colors and spiral stripes. The left side of the three domes is green with a yellow spiral, and the right side of the three domes is red with a white spiral. Each dome does have the crucifix above. The main building, on the other hand, has an image of St. Nicholas. The picture bible glass that is way too splendid made Eliza feel touched. The cross above? High as the mighty Lord lives.

  She does liturgy with all her showing amazement, and she carries her bags as she is about to enter the gate. Before she could say a word, the gate opened by itself. Eliza was shocked. Does this Basilic Castle have assistants hidden behind the other side of the place, where they monitor outside of the castle? No one, not even Eliza herself, knows for sure. She hesitantly enters, having to walk straight to the entrance of the big door with gardens that are not visible surrounding it. The architecture itself is so colorful, with brown mixed with gold brightness, and has patterns, and even has one pointy, small tower, presumably for the guards of this palace.

  Hitherto, as she finally reached the door, which is the entrance of this holiest place of the Ruskyiev’, the door was slowly open, revealing the amazingness of what is inside the awaiting place that is claimed to soon be the holiest, just like the Vatican City. Eliza was greeted by the maids and guards of the castle. All of them have bright night-blue eyes just as she does, and for the first time, she felt like she belonged. None of the assistants of Dimitri Stephanov says any words, not even the feelings, so Eliza just tries to keep herself composed.

  Eliza wonders, what will the Duke look like? What kind of person is he? Is there a lot of knowledge that he has to prepare to give to the assigned representative of the Chapel of Fatima?