Chosen to Rise; Destined to Fall

Chosen to Rise; Destined to Fall

Prologue

Sister Mary walked through the central garden of St. Augustine's, smiling as she smelled the sweet scents of the flowers. It was a perfect June day in Greater Hangleton, a warm breeze, and low humidity. There were no chores to be done around the convent for several hours yet, and prayer services had just finished. Sister Mary was taking advantage of the free time by indulging in her favorite pastime of taking leisurely walks through the gardens. Sister Mary loved the central garden the most out of the gardens the nuns maintained. It was filled with many flowers, from bluebells to baby's breath.

Several of her other Sisters were taking leisurely walks through the vast gardens, occasionally stopping and pointing to some of the flowers. They discussed many things of relevance to God, from His glory to the shame of the fall from Eden. Sister Mary chose not to join them because she still felt like an outsider within the nunnery. Sister Mary, at twenty-two, was the youngest nun by far and Abbess Catherine, the head of St. Augustine's, had been very kind to her and helped her adjust. She had grown up in a very small town, miles from Greater Hangleton.

The town had not been the nicest of places for a child of the Lord to grow up. She and her parents may have been devout, but the majority of the town had been awash in sin. Crime and all sorts of debauchery had been commonplace. After her parents had died, she had gotten away from that town as quickly as possible. She had joined the nunnery while the pain of her parent's deaths had still been fresh, and the other Sisters had really helped her cope with the loss. She had never regretted her decision to join the nuns to free herself from the darker sides of humanity she had seen during her childhood.

"Miss!" a voice cried and Sister Mary turned to see a man standing at the gates that led out to the street. He held a bundle in his arms and his hair was wild, as were his eyes. Sister Mary looked around, but the nearest nuns had made their way to the other side of the garden already. She turned back to the man. "Please, Sister, for the love of God," he pleaded.

She took a cautious step towards the gate and slowly made her way until she was standing directly in front of him, her black habit billowing in the slight breeze. "Sir? Are you okay?" she asked slowly.

"Please, you have to take him."

"I don't understand, Sir," she said as he held out the bundle.

"You have to take this child. It is unholy and needs the guidance of your Sisterhood to help him. Its mother was a demon; she was possessed by the Devil himself. I fear that her sins have passed to this child. She was a daemon, a fiendish witch. She died giving birth to this . . . this monstrosity. God kept true to His word of not suffering a witch to live." The man crossed himself before continuing. "It was just a while ago. I came straight here afterwards. Please, will you take him?"

"Sir . . . I -"

"Please!" he begged, his eyes wide. "I am a God-fearing man and I fear that this child needs to be saved, before he brings terrible things down upon us. God forgive me, and I wish His blessings on you." With that, he shoved the bundle through the bars and into her arms.

"Sir -!" she began, but he ran away, sprinting out of sight.

She sighed and looked down at the bundle that she now held in her arms. "Unholy? But this is merely a child," she said softly. Slowly, she pulled back the blanket, revealing a newborn's red face, his eyes still squinted shut. However, he was not crying, which was odd for the newly born. "I have to see Abbess Catherine."

She turned and, clutching the child against her chest, she walked quickly back into the nunnery and headed down several corridors and up a flight of stairs to Abbess Catherine's office.

"Abbess?" Sister Mary called softly, rapping lightly on the door.

"Come in, child," a warm voice said and Sister Mary opened the door slowly, walking into the small office. A few candles were burning and the window was open, giving the room a fresh smell. The cold stones that made up the floors of the nunnery were covered with a thin, red carpet. A mahogany desk sat near the back and behind it sat Abbess Catherine, a tall, very old, extremely pious woman. However, her face was warm and her eyes inviting. "How can I help you, child?" she asked.

Sister Mary swallowed and stepped forward, holding out the child. "A man handed this child to me before I could do anything, just now at the gate," she said. "He said that it needed saving and that he thought we would be the people that could help it."

Abbess Catherine nodded, taking the swaddled child. She looked into the sleeping face of the newborn. "To abandon a child so small," she said softly, sadness and disapproval etched in her features. She was quiet for a few moments and Sister Mary waited patiently, looking out the window at the sun covered rooftops of the lower levels of the nunnery and in the distance, she could make out a few of the taller buildings of Greater Hangleton and the mountains beyond that.

"Sister Mary," Abbess Catherine said, breaking Sister Mary from her thoughts.

"Yes, Abbess?" Sister Mary said, looking back at Abbess Catherine.

"I think we should take in this child, for I think the Lord would wish us to. Our job in life is to help those in need and this child is very much in need of caring. We will raise him in our ways, and hopefully save him and help him towards enlightenment." Abbess Catherine nodded, almost to herself. "Yes, I will take care of this child."

"What will be his name?"

Abbess Catherine peered down at the child and then reached her hand into the folds of the cloth, taking out a piece of paper with a scribble across it that had barely been peeking out of the blanket. She looked at it. "The mother's wish . . . the name of her child. Tom Marvolo Riddle." Abbess Catherine looked back down at the sleeping infant. "And Tom Marvolo Riddle you shall be."