Elias-priest

The wind rattled the windows of the small stone house, nestled among the damp fields of an 18th-century English village. Father Elias Beaumont, the village priest and spiritual guide of the peasants, watched from the back door as his son played in the grass.
The child, Lucien, barely 10 years old, laughed as he ran after a butterfly. His golden hair shone in the setting sun, and his laughter—pure, crystalline—was the only thing that brought calm to the priest's soul.
For a moment, Elias forgot the weight of his cassock, the endless prayers, the sermons about sin and redemption. For a second, he was just a father watching his son play.
"Dad!" Lucien shouted, laughing. "Look, I caught one!"
"Be careful, son. Don't hurt its wings," the man replied, smiling weakly.
That afternoon, everything was normal. But a few days later, everything began to change.
The first sign
It was during Sunday mass.
Lucien was among the parishioners, helping to light the candles, when Elias saw him.
The boy's eyes, once blue, seemed darker. His hands trembled, and deep dark circles covered his face, as if he hadn't slept for days.
When his father asked him if he felt alright, Lucien just nodded, smiling shyly.
—I'm fine, Dad… I'm just cold.
But Elias felt something… something that gave him goosebumps.
A presence.
A whisper among the empty benches.
A voice that did not come from the child, but from the air itself.
"He no longer belongs to you."
That night, Elias prayed until his lips cracked. He reviewed ancient texts, consulted other men of faith, until he found an answer in a forbidden manuscript:
Abaddon, the destroyer.
The demon of the abyss.
And in her despair, she believed that her son was possessed.
On the night of the ritual, the house smelled of incense and dried blood. Elias had prepared the circle with blessed salt, candles, and a red-hot iron cross resting on Lucien's chest.

"The devil is inside him, lock him in his body"...