11PM March 6th, 1588 - Stuttgart, Holy Roman Empire Do not let humanity die. Not like this. The situation may seem dire, perhaps even more so for you than I, but the Beans can be defeated. I am leaving this journal so that you may learn from the mistakes that we have made. My final piece of advice is this: trust no one. The Beans are highly intelligent, able to secretly infect and manipulate anyone, and are hellbent on completing their goal. Fortify somewhere safe and cold, and hope to God that you find a way to defeat them.

Krause entered her house, closing the door behind her. She sighed, happy that she had completed her final task for the Beanmeister. The sun had long since set, the room that now belonged only to her family was dark except for the candle lit on their dining table.

“Where’ve ya been?” Her husband asked, getting out of their bed. “I was gettin’ worried abou’ ya, Jules. I though’ somethin’ had happened ta ya, then I noticed ya bag and Annemarie was gone, too. If ya weren’ home by the mornin’, I was goin’ ta talk ta the guards… I’m so glad ya safe...”

Krause didn’t see any reason to lie to her husband anymore. If everything went according to His plan, the two of them would be meeting their daughter at the gates of Heaven by the end of the night. “I was at the Church.”

“The church? Wha’ church?”

“The Church of the Beanmeister.”

He paused. “The wha’?”

“The Church of the Beanmeister.”

“Wha’s tha’?” His voice had an edge of caution, now.

“We worship the Beanmeister, an incarnation of God that was sent from Heaven to save us from the End of Days, but the only way for Him to do that was to start the Great Tribulation, which began on November 8th, and what the Empire calls—”

“Tha’ cult? Is tha’ wha’ ya’ve been doin’ all this time? Sneakin’ off ta go play in ya cult?”

“We’re not a cult, the Beanmeister is real and—”

“Answer me, Julia.”

“Yes.”

“How lon’?”

Krause’s pause was noticeable. “A little over a year, now. I joined the February before last.”

There was real pain in his voice; he sounded desperate. “I trusted ya. I though’… I though’ it was my faul’. I though’ I had done something ta push ya away, I though’— Wait…”

The dim candle between them just barely lit her husband’s face. His hair was unkempt, ragged strands hanging into his sunken eyes, which, in the dim light, seemed to be infinitely deep. He balled his fists at his sides, and though he was hunching noticeably, towered over Krause.

“Where’s Annemarie?”

Instinctively, Krause reached for her necklace.

As though a dam had broken inside her mind, an almost unbearable sense of panic washed over her. In an instant, she realized what had happened, what she had done— done to Annemarie, to Henry, to Loretta— and she didn’t know if she could bear to live with herself any longer.

Everything had gone according to His plan.

At that moment, she realized that she was not in control of herself. The Beanmeister’s grip over her was not the same as Christ and His disciples, but instead a manipulator and His victims.

“Where’s Annemarie?” Henry asked again, taking a step towards Krause.

She knew exactly where Annemarie was, exactly what the Beanmeister had made her do to her own daughter, and it horrified her. Annemarie, her daughter, the light of her life, was going to be dead before the morning, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Everything had gone according to His plan.

She was crying intensely now, speaking through horrible sobs. “The market, I left her in the market!”

“Wha’s goin’ on? Why did ya leave her there?”

“I didn’t! I swear I didn’t! None of this is right, Henry, none of this is my fault! It’s His fault! He’s making me do this, I can’t stop it! Please, Henry, you have to help me!”

“Why is Annemarie in the market?” Henry was shouting now.

“I fed her the beans! She’s going to get other people sick, she’s going to get other people killed, Henry! There are people in the market, and she’s going to get them all killed!”

“Wha’ are ya talkin’ about?”

“The Church! The Church of the Beanmeister! The Beanmeister, He planned all of this! He planned everything, Henry!” She held her necklace tightly in her hand, so tightly it hurt, scared that if she let go now, she would be letting go of her daughter for good.

Henry took another step towards her. “Wha’ is this Beanmeister goin’ ta do ta my daughter?”

“The beans, Henry, the beans!”

“Wha’ abou’ them?”

“They’re inside her! They’re inside you, they’re inside me, they’re inside all of us! They’re in my head, Henry, they’re making me do this, making me do all of this, making me hurt you and Annemarie and Loretta since back in Horb, Henry they’re making me do this, I swear, I swear!”

“Wha’ did ya do ta my daughter?” Henry was standing over her now, completely blocking the dim light of the candle on the table.

“It wasn’t me, I—”

Henry slapped her, hard across the face. Krause fell to the side, stunned, letting go of her necklace, her head narrowly missing the frame of the bed. “Wha’ did ya do ta my daughter?”

“Henry,” Krause tried to move away from her husband, “it wasn’t me, the Beanmeister, He made me—”

Henry moved toward her. “Wha’ did ya do ta my daughter?”

Krause grabbed her necklace again, rubbing her finger over the ruby desperately, hoping that somehow it would save her, save her husband, save her daughter. “There’s nothing we can do!” She could barely speak through the sobs. “She’s going to—”

Henry hit her again, this time with his fist. Krause fell backwards, the cheap clasp of her necklace breaking behind her neck. It clattered to her side, disappearing into the darkness under the bed.

He put his head in his hands and sobbed.

Tears of anger and frustration welled up in Krause’s eyes. Everything she had done, it was to protect them. None of them appreciated it, and she wondered why. “Thessalonians, 4:17: ‘Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord.’ The Beanmeister has been sent by the Lord to deliver us, the believers, from our mortal flesh and blood. Just as Christ delivered Himself unto us, allowing Himself to be placed upon the cross as penance for our sins, so too shall we allow ourselves to repent, here, today, so that we may find peace and be accepted into Heaven.” She was still sobbing now, tears still in her eyes.

“Wha’ happened ta ya, Jules?” Her husband’s voice was low and fragile.

Krause couldn’t help herself. Something within her made her reply. “If you leave now, you might be able to die with her.”

He released a pained, primal yell and turned on Krause, kicking her hard in the side.

He left without another word.

Through labored breaths, Krause gasped. She couldn’t tell if she was laughing or sobbing.

The rain fell hard and heavy on the leaky roof of their shack, water dripping somewhere in the room. As she slowly fell into unconsciousness, she wondered what she had done to end up here.

A few months ago, she would have felt regret in this moment. Hell, up until a few moments ago, she had. The few moments between then and now felt like years. She had understood the gravity of the situation those few moments ago. She had heard her daughter crying on top of a merchant’s stall. She had seen her daughter’s tears mix with the rain as she walked away, returning home after completing her last task for the Beanmeister. She had realized that what she had done was horrible, that she should go back and find her daughter, save her before it was too late.

But she had also known that it already was too late. Nothing she could do now could stop the Beanmeister. She knew that everything that she had worked towards, everyone she had worked so hard to protect, everyone she cared about, would not survive this night.

She had done everything He had asked, but He had given her nothing that He had promised.

She was not the same person she was a year ago. She had changed. The old Julia Krause, the woman who was content cooking cabbage stew for her husband and daughter; that Julia Krause was dead. The Julia Krause that remained was an apostle of the Beanmeister. And now, finally, she realized that was all she would ever be.

The old Julia Krause had one final thought as she fell into unconsciousness:

Everything had gone according to His plan.

That, more than anything, terrified her.