Chapter 12: Apostolic Succession

"We're recording, Mr. Melvik."

Sanita Jemberga sat across from Darren, her keen blue eyes studying him with the practiced intensity of someone who had interviewed presidents and criminals alike during her twenty-five years in journalism. The executive director of Re:Baltica had arrived at the secure location beneath the Vilnius restaurant shortly after dawn, bringing with her a small team and professional recording equipment.

"Let's start with the basics," she continued, her Latvian accent subtle but present. "You were a communications officer at UNHCR until your suspension following a controversial social media post. But you now claim this entire controversy was manufactured. Tell me why."

"Because I've identified the person who infiltrated my Facebook group and leaked my post," Darren replied. "Ansis Pūpols, the man Archbishop Stankevičs has appointed to head EWTN Latvia."

Jemberga's expression registered recognition at the name, but she maintained her professional demeanor. "That's a significant claim. What evidence supports it?"

Darren laid out the case methodically—Dr. Kalnins' facial recognition match between Pūpols and the "Anton Petersons" Facebook profile that had joined "The 13th Apostle" group two months before Darren's controversial post, Pūpols' attendance at Theopneustos Foundation conferences, his long-standing connections to Archbishop Stankevičs, and the newly-established EWTN Latvia's funding sources.

As he spoke, the documents recovered from Institute 410 sat on the table between them—tangible evidence of the decades-long research into manipulating religious sentiment for institutional control.

After Darren's explanation, Jemberga turned her attention to David Kaye. "Mr. Kaye, as the former UN Special Rapporteur on the promotion and protection of the right to freedom of opinion and expression, how do you see your role in this situation?"

Kaye considered the question carefully. "My mandate at the UN included monitoring threats to free expression globally. What we're seeing with Operation Apostle represents a sophisticated attempt to limit discourse within international institutions by creating artificial controversies that justify increased oversight. It's censorship laundered through moral panic."

"And your current role?" Jemberga pressed. "You're no longer with the UN officially."

"I now lead a consortium of academics, former officials, and civil society organizations monitoring institutional capture," Kaye explained. "We've been tracking similar patterns across multiple international bodies—not just the UN but also the EU, WHO, and others. Operation Apostle appears to be the most advanced of these efforts, using psychological techniques to manufacture consent for increased religious influence over secular governance."

"Why would Archbishop Stankevičs resort to such methods?" she asked. "The Church already has significant moral authority and influence."

"Moral authority isn't the same as institutional control," Darren explained. "Operation Apostle isn't about faith—it's about governance. Who sets policy, who controls resources, who defines acceptable discourse. The Soviet researchers discovered that religious frameworks are particularly effective at inducing certain cognitive states—specifically, receptivity to authority and moral certainty."

"And you believe your Facebook post was deliberately leaked to create a controversy that would justify increased religious oversight of UN communications?"

"Not just believe—I can prove it." Darren turned to David Kaye, who handed him a tablet. "This morning, our contact at EWTN Latvia's technical team extracted communications between Pūpols and Stankevičs from October last year, shortly before my post was leaked."

He showed Jemberga a series of messages, translated from Latvian:

Pūpols: Target identified at UNHCR Geneva. Communications officer with problematic posting history. Monitoring his private group for usable content.

Stankevičs: Excellent. Operation Apostle Phase 2 requires a catalyst. The UN position paper on religious freedom is too secular in orientation. We need leverage to demand revisions.

Pūpols: Will continue monitoring. Several promising candidates, but Melvik shows particular potential. Recent activity suggests growing frustration with institutional constraints.

"Where did these come from?" Jemberga asked, professional skepticism evident in her voice.

"A technical consultant working on EWTN Latvia's studio setup," Kaye explained. "They accessed the communications server during routine systems testing. We've verified the authenticity through digital forensics."

"And this consultant is willing to go on record?"

"Not yet," Kaye admitted. "But the messages themselves can be authenticated. The metadata, server logs, and digital signatures are consistent with genuine communications."

Jemberga studied the messages carefully. "You understand I'll need to verify this independently before publication."

"Of course," Darren agreed. "We want this story held to the highest journalistic standards. That's why we came to Re:Baltica instead of simply posting everything online."

The interview continued for hours, with Jemberga methodically working through the evidence—the Institute 410 documents, the OpUNleaks disclosures, the communications between Pūpols and Stankevičs, Dr. Bērziņa's grandfather's journals, and testimonies from others who had reported similar dream experiences following exposure to specific religious imagery.

"These shared dream experiences," she said, returning to a point Darren had mentioned earlier. "You're suggesting they're a side effect of the techniques developed at Institute 410?"

"According to Dr. Bērziņa's analysis, yes," Darren replied. "The Soviet researchers called it 'theological resonance'—the synchronization of neural responses to symbolic stimuli. In most cases, it creates increased receptivity to religious authority. But in some individuals—particularly those with complex relationships to authority—it triggers a different response."

"The dreams you described on your blog," Jemberga noted.

"Yes. Conversations with historical religious figures who questioned institutional power—Luther, Calvin, Origen. The dreams aren't random. They're engaging with the very symbols and frameworks being used in the influence attempt, but processing them differently."

"And the 13A network that's formed around your blog—these are others experiencing similar effects?"

"Some are experiencing similar dreams. Others are whistleblowers from within institutions targeted by Operation Apostle. Together, they've created a resistance network."

As the interview concluded, Jemberga sat back, her expression thoughtful. "This story will generate significant backlash, Mr. Melvik. Powerful institutions don't appreciate being exposed. Are you prepared for that?"

"I've already lost my career and reputation," Darren said with a rueful smile. "What more can they take?"

"Your legacy," Jemberga replied seriously. "How history remembers you. If we publish this and it's later discredited, you'll be remembered as a conspiracy theorist who fabricated evidence against religious institutions."

"That's why authentication is critical," Kaye interjected. "We need to establish the provenance of every document, every communication, every connection."

"Agreed," Jemberga said, beginning to pack up her equipment. "My team will work on verification immediately. If everything checks out, we can publish within 48 hours."

"We may not have 48 hours," Darren warned. "EWTN Latvia is accelerating its launch, and Cardinal Sarah appears to be under coercion. They're moving against everyone connected to exposing Operation Apostle."

Jemberga paused, considering this. "I can expedite the process, but journalistic integrity can't be compromised. Give me 24 hours for basic verification, then we'll publish the first piece focusing on Pūpols' infiltration of your Facebook group and his connection to Stankevičs. The broader conspiracy can follow with additional verification."

As she prepared to leave, Jemberga stopped at the door. "One more question, Mr. Melvik. The name of your blog—The Thirteenth Apostle. Why that specifically?"

"Matthias was chosen to replace Judas after his betrayal," Darren explained. "According to biblical accounts, he wasn't part of the original twelve disciples who followed Jesus, but was selected after the resurrection to restore the apostolic circle to twelve. The believers cast lots between Matthias and another follower named Barsabbas, and Matthias was chosen. He essentially became the thirteenth apostle chronologically, though maintaining the twelve in number—someone who wasn't present for most of the story but was called to bear witness to the truth after the critical events had already unfolded."

Jemberga nodded, satisfied with the answer. "We'll be in touch. Stay secure."

After she left, Darren turned to Kaye and Martynas. "Now we need to find Cardinal Sarah. If he's being coerced, we need to know how and by whom."

"Our source at the Swiss clinic confirms he's no longer there," Kaye reported. "According to their records, he checked himself out three days ago and was collected by a diplomatic vehicle registered to the Vatican."

"But not the Vatican's standard diplomatic service," Martynas added. "A special division attached to the Pontifical Commission for Religious Relations."

"Which Stankevičs chairs," Darren realized. "He has Sarah."

Kaye's phone chimed with an incoming message. His expression darkened as he read it. "Our EWTN Latvia contact has been discovered. They managed to transmit one final message before going dark: Pūpols is conducting a 'special broadcast' tonight—a pre-launch event featuring Archbishop Stankevičs addressing 'attacks on religious freedom.'"

"They're getting ahead of the story," Darren said. "If they portray Re:Baltica's investigation as an attack on faith before Jemberga publishes, it muddles the narrative."

"There's more," Kaye continued. "Cardinal Sarah will be making a satellite appearance during the broadcast—his first public appearance since his 'spiritual retreat.'"

The implications were clear. If Cardinal Sarah had indeed been subjected to the influence techniques developed at Institute 410, his public appearance would solidify the narrative that Darren's evidence was fabricated and his blog merely conspiracy theories.

"We need to get to Cardinal Sarah before that broadcast," Darren said decisively.

"How?" Martynas asked. "We don't even know where he is."

"Actually, we might," Kaye said, studying his phone. "The Vatican diplomatic vehicle that collected him from the Swiss clinic crossed into Italy but didn't proceed to Rome. Instead, it turned east toward the Adriatic coast. Our sources tracked it to a monastery in the mountains near Ancona."

"That's a fourteen-hour drive from here," Darren calculated. "We'd never make it in time."

"Not by car," Martynas agreed. "But I may have another option." He made a phone call, speaking rapidly in Lithuanian. After a brief conversation, he turned to them. "A contact at the Lithuanian Air Force owes me a favor. They have a training flight heading to Italy today—a C-27J transport. They can drop us near Ancona."

"Us?" Darren questioned.

"You'll need backup," Martynas said simply. "And I speak Italian."

The next few hours were a blur of preparation. Using secure channels, they coordinated with Dr. Bērziņa, who had emerged from hiding and made contact with trusted colleagues in Latvia. They would monitor the EWTN Latvia broadcast and coordinate with Jemberga's team at Re:Baltica. Thomas, still in Geneva, would manage communications with the broader 13A network and ensure the evidence remained secure regardless of what happened in Italy.

By noon, Darren and Martynas were aboard a Lithuanian military transport aircraft, flying southwest over Poland toward Italy. The cavernous cargo hold was mostly empty except for training equipment and a few Lithuanian soldiers participating in NATO exercises.

"So what's the plan when we reach the monastery?" Darren asked as they sat strapped into uncomfortable jump seats along the fuselage.

"First, verification," Martynas replied pragmatically. "Confirm Cardinal Sarah is actually there and determine the security situation. Then, depending on what we find, either direct approach or extraction."

"Extraction?" Darren raised an eyebrow. "You mean kidnapping a Cardinal?"

"Rescue," Martynas corrected. "If he's being held against his will or subjected to coercive techniques, it's not kidnapping—it's a rescue."

Darren wasn't entirely convinced, but he couldn't deny the logic. If Cardinal Sarah was indeed being manipulated using techniques developed at Institute 410, his public appearance condemning Darren's evidence would be a devastating blow to their credibility.

"And if he's there voluntarily?" Darren asked. "If he's genuinely changed his position?"

"Then we present the evidence directly to him," Martynas said. "Something changed between your meeting in Geneva and his sudden denunciation of your blog. He deserves to know what's happening, even if he ultimately chooses a different path."

The flight was long and uncomfortable, but by late afternoon, they were descending toward a military airfield near Ancona. As promised, Martynas' contact had arranged ground transportation—a nondescript Fiat that wouldn't attract attention in the Italian countryside.

The monastery of San Bartolomeo perched dramatically on a mountainside overlooking the Adriatic Sea, its medieval stone walls blending with the rocky landscape. As they approached along a winding road, Darren studied the compound through binoculars.

"Security is minimal," he observed. "Just the usual cameras and an intercom system at the gate. This doesn't look like a high-security detention facility."

"Monasteries rarely do," Martynas noted dryly. "That's what makes them effective for certain purposes. Remote, respected, access controlled by tradition rather than obvious security measures."

They parked the Fiat at a scenic overlook a kilometer from the monastery gates, then hiked through olive groves to approach from the less-monitored eastern side. As they crouched behind ancient stone walls that predated the monastery itself, Martynas consulted his phone.

"My contact in Italian intelligence confirms unusual activity here in the past seventy-two hours. Vatican diplomatic vehicles, increased supply deliveries, and—most interesting—equipment cases from a company associated with media production."

"They're setting up for the satellite appearance," Darren concluded.

"Precisely. And it gives us our opening." Martynas reached into his backpack and produced two sets of clothing—the simple black attire of technical staff. "Media crews require support personnel."

The disguise was basic but effective. They walked openly to a service entrance at the rear of the monastery where delivery vehicles were unloading equipment. With clipboards and purposeful expressions, they blended seamlessly with the hurried technical staff preparing for the evening's broadcast.

Inside, the monastery's serene atmosphere contrasted with the controlled chaos of temporary broadcast equipment being installed in what appeared to be a private chapel. Cables snaked across ancient stone floors, lighting rigs illuminated centuries-old religious artwork, and harried technicians made final adjustments to satellite uplink equipment.

"Control room?" Martynas asked a passing technician in flawless Italian.

"Down the hall, third door," the man replied without looking up from his tablet.

They moved through the monastery with confident purpose, the universal language of media production deadlines granting them invisible passage. The "control room" turned out to be a converted library, now filled with monitors, mixers, and communications equipment.

"The Cardinal?" Darren asked a woman who appeared to be coordinating the technical elements.

"In meditation before the broadcast," she replied, checking her watch. "He'll be brought to the chapel thirty minutes before air."

"Which room?" Martynas pressed. "We need to check the lighting levels."

"East wing, the private guest quarters. But he's requested no disturbances." Her tone suggested this was non-negotiable.

"Of course," Darren nodded respectfully. "We'll coordinate with his handlers."

They exited the control room and moved toward the east wing, their borrowed authority gradually diminishing with distance from the broadcast activity. The monastery returned to its essential nature—quiet corridors, solemn artwork, and the weight of centuries of contemplation.

"There," Martynas whispered, nodding toward a corridor where two men in dark suits stood outside a wooden door. "Not monks."

The men had the unmistakable bearing of security personnel—alert, positioned for optimal sightlines, hands positioned for quick access to concealed weapons. This was no ordinary meditation retreat for Cardinal Sarah.

"Direct approach won't work," Darren murmured. "We need a distraction."

Martynas studied the layout, then checked his watch. "The broadcast preparations might provide one. Let me make a call."

He stepped away, speaking rapidly into his phone in Lithuanian. When he returned, there was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "Five minutes. When it happens, be ready to move quickly."

Exactly five minutes later, alarms blared throughout the monastery as the main power failed. Emergency lights activated, casting the corridors in dim amber illumination. Shouts of confusion echoed from the direction of the broadcast setup.

The security personnel exchanged concerned glances. One spoke rapidly into a wrist microphone while the other maintained his position at the door. After a moment, the first guard reluctantly departed toward the commotion, leaving his colleague alone.

"Stay here," Martynas whispered, then walked openly toward the remaining guard. He spoke rapidly in Italian, gesturing toward the broadcast area with increasing urgency. The guard hesitated, clearly torn between his duty to remain at the door and the apparent emergency requiring his assistance.

That moment of indecision was all Martynas needed. His movement was swift and practiced—a simple restraint technique that rendered the guard unconscious within seconds. He lowered the man gently to the floor, took his access card, and motioned for Darren to join him.

"That was... impressive," Darren said as they swiped the card and opened the door.

"Former special operations," Martynas explained briefly. "Before intelligence work."

The room beyond was spacious and comfortable—a guest quarter befitting a high-ranking Church official. Sitting in an armchair by the window, gazing out at the Adriatic, was Cardinal Sarah. He turned at their entrance, his expression showing surprise but not fear.

"Mr. Melvik," he said, recognizing Darren immediately. "I thought you might come eventually."

"Your Eminence," Darren replied, closing the door behind them. "Are you being held here against your will?"

The Cardinal's laugh was hollow. "Such a direct question. The literal answer is no—I am not physically restrained. The more complex answer..." He gestured to a nearby table where several medication bottles stood. "They call it 'supportive therapy for spiritual anxiety.' Three times daily, administered by a Vatican physician."

Darren approached, examining the labels. One he recognized from Dr. Bērziņa's notes—a compound developed from Institute 410 research, refined and modernized for "therapeutic cognitive alignment."

"They're drugging you," Darren said, anger rising in his voice.

"Treating me," Cardinal Sarah corrected with bitter irony. "After I made the mistake of supporting your investigation. Archbishop Stankevičs arranged this 'retreat' for my 'spiritual health.' The medication makes me... compliant. Receptive to suggestion. It's quite effective."

"You're aware of what's happening to you?" Martynas asked, surprised.

"In moments of clarity, yes," the Cardinal replied. "The effects wax and wane. They'll administer another dose before the broadcast to ensure I deliver the prepared statement condemning Mr. Melvik's 'fabricated evidence' and 'attacks on religious institutions.'"

"We need to get you out of here," Darren said decisively.

Cardinal Sarah shook his head. "To what end? The damage is done. My credibility is compromised. If I contradict my previous statements, I'll be dismissed as unstable or manipulated by you."

"Or," Darren countered, "you could tell the truth. During the broadcast. Live, in front of millions of viewers."

The Cardinal's eyes widened slightly. "A confession?"

"An act of witness," Darren corrected. "The thirteenth apostle bearing testimony to what he's seen."

"They'll cut the transmission," Martynas pointed out.

"Not if they don't realize what's happening until it's too late," Darren said. "Cardinal Sarah begins with the expected denunciation, then pivots to the truth. By the time they realize what's happening, his words will already be circulating globally."

Cardinal Sarah considered this, his expression reflecting internal struggle. "They would destroy me. Everything I've worked for, my position within the Church..."

"With respect, Your Eminence," Darren said quietly, "they're already destroying you. The difference is whether it happens with your cooperation or your resistance."

Silence fell in the room, broken only by the distant sounds of technicians scrambling to restore power to the broadcast equipment. Finally, Cardinal Sarah stood, his bearing regaining some of the dignified authority Darren remembered from their meeting in Geneva.

"The Apostolic tradition speaks of witness—martyrion in Greek," he said slowly. "To bear witness to truth, regardless of personal cost. If I am to be a martyr, let it be for truth rather than for a corruption of faith."

"You'll do it?" Darren asked.

"I will bear witness," the Cardinal confirmed. "But you must promise me something in return."

"What?"

"That you understand the distinction between corrupt institutional practices and faith itself. That your exposure of Operation Apostle does not become an attack on belief."

Darren nodded solemnly. "I've never opposed faith, Your Eminence. Only its weaponization for institutional control."

"Then we understand each other." Cardinal Sarah straightened his clerical attire. "Now, we have a broadcast to prepare for. And you two need to disappear before security realizes you're here."

"We're not leaving you," Darren protested.

"You must," the Cardinal insisted. "My witness will have more impact if I appear to be acting independently. If they suspect coercion or manipulation, it undermines everything."

Martynas checked his watch. "We don't have much time before they restore power and the other guard returns." He turned to Cardinal Sarah. "Are you certain you can do this? The medication..."

"God's grace is sufficient," the Cardinal replied with quiet dignity. "And the medication is wearing off. I'll refuse the pre-broadcast dose—claim it interferes with my ability to speak clearly."

Reluctantly, Darren agreed to the plan. They couldn't force the Cardinal to leave, and his point about independent testimony was valid. A coordinated escape would feed the narrative that Darren was manipulating religious figures for his own ends.

"How will you get away afterwards?" Darren asked. "Once you make that statement, you'll be immediately contained."

"I have my own resources," Cardinal Sarah said with the hint of a smile. "The Church has existed for two millennia, Mr. Melvik. Its internal networks extend far beyond what Archbishop Stankevičs can control."

As they prepared to leave, the Cardinal placed a hand on Darren's shoulder. "Whatever happens, you have done what was right. Remember that in the days ahead."

With the monastery still in confusion from the power outage, Darren and Martynas slipped away through the service entrance and returned to their vehicle at the overlook. From there, they would monitor the broadcast and be prepared to move quickly depending on what unfolded.

"Do you think he'll actually do it?" Martynas asked as they settled in to wait.

"I do," Darren replied. "There was something in his eyes—a resolution that wasn't there before. Whatever they've been giving him, its effect was wearing off."

They didn't have long to wait. At precisely 8 PM Central European Time, EWTN Latvia began its special pre-launch broadcast. Using a satellite uplink from Martynas' equipment, they watched on a tablet as Ansis Pūpols, looking solemn in a dark suit, introduced Archbishop Stankevičs.

The Archbishop delivered a passionate address about "defending faith in the public square" and the "coordinated attempts to silence religious voices in international institutions." He spoke of "fabricated evidence" and "conspiracy theories" designed to undermine religious authority.

Then, with practiced gravity, he introduced Cardinal Sarah, appearing via satellite from his "spiritual retreat" in Italy.

The Cardinal appeared on screen, seated in front of a simple backdrop featuring a cross. He began with the expected denunciation, reading from what was clearly a prepared statement:

"Recent allegations regarding the Church's involvement in manipulating international institutions are deeply concerning and fundamentally false. As someone initially approached by Mr. Melvik, I was briefly misled by selective evidence presented out of context..."

In the car, Darren felt his heart sink. Had the Cardinal lost his nerve? Had they administered another dose of the medication despite his refusal?

But then, Cardinal Sarah set aside the paper and looked directly into the camera. His voice strengthened, his bearing shifted from compliant to commanding.

"However, I cannot in good conscience continue this deception. The truth is that I have been held at this monastery against my will, subjected to medication designed to make me compliant, and pressured to denounce evidence that I know to be authentic."

In the background, panicked voices could be heard. The Cardinal continued quickly:

"Operation Apostle is real. It represents a corruption of faith for institutional power—something Christ himself condemned. The evidence Mr. Melvik has gathered demonstrates how techniques developed during the Soviet era have been repurposed to manipulate public opinion and increase religious control over secular institutions."

Commotion erupted off-camera. The Cardinal's voice grew more urgent:

"This is not about faith versus secularism. It is about transparency versus manipulation. As Christians, we are called to truth, not to power obtained through—"

The transmission abruptly cut off, replaced by a "Technical Difficulties" graphic.

In the car, Darren and Martynas exchanged glances of mingled triumph and concern.

"He did it," Darren said. "But now they'll move against him immediately."

"And against us," Martynas added, starting the engine. "We need to relocate. That satellite uplink can be traced."

As they descended the winding mountain road, Darren's phone lit up with a message from Sanita Jemberga:

"Cardinal's statement changes everything. Expediting publication. First piece goes live within the hour. Be prepared for massive reaction."

They drove in tense silence until reaching a small coastal town, where they switched to a different vehicle Martynas had arranged as contingency. As they continued south along the Adriatic coast, reports began flooding in from the 13A network:

EWTN Latvia had gone off air immediately following the aborted broadcast. Archbishop Stankevičs had issued an emergency statement claiming Cardinal Sarah was "unwell" and speaking "under the influence of medication." Vatican sources were reporting that the Cardinal had been "removed to a secure location for medical evaluation."

Most significantly, Re:Baltica had published their first exposé—a meticulous documentation of Ansis Pūpols' infiltration of "The 13th Apostle" Facebook group under a false identity, his extraction of Darren's controversial post, and his direct coordination with Archbishop Stankevičs to amplify the controversy.

The piece included authenticated communications between Pūpols and Stankevičs, testimony from a whistleblower inside the EWTN Latvia startup team confirming the strategy, and analysis from digital forensics experts verifying the timeline of events.

Within an hour, the story had been picked up by major international outlets. #OperationApostle was trending globally. The UN Secretary-General had announced an urgent review of recent policy changes regarding religious consultation. And most surprisingly, several moderate religious leaders had issued statements expressing concern about the alleged manipulation of faith for institutional control.

"It's working," Darren said wonderingly as they monitored the unfolding reaction. "People are actually listening."

"The Cardinal's testimony was key," Martynas observed. "Coming from within the institution itself, it can't be dismissed as mere anti-religious sentiment."

A secure message arrived from David Kaye:

"Cardinal Sarah has made contact through secure channels. He's safe with allies in the Church who oppose Operation Apostle. Remarkable how many were waiting for someone to speak first. The dam is breaking. Return to Lithuania ASAP for next phase."

As they continued toward an airfield where a private charter would return them to Vilnius, Darren composed what might be his most important blog update yet:

"The Thirteenth Apostle: Witness

Today, Cardinal Robert Sarah chose truth over institutional loyalty, transparency over manipulation. His courageous testimony during the EWTN Latvia broadcast confirmed what evidence has increasingly suggested: Operation Apostle represents a coordinated effort to increase religious control over secular institutions using techniques developed from Soviet psychological research.

Re:Baltica has published the first in a series of investigative pieces documenting how Ansis Pūpols infiltrated my Facebook group under a false identity, extracted my controversial post, and worked with Archbishop Stankevičs to amplify the controversy as justification for increased religious oversight of UN communications.

This is not an attack on faith. It is an exposure of how faith has been weaponized for institutional control—something every authentic religious tradition condemns. The distinction is crucial.

To the 13A network: Your vigilance and courage have made this possible. Continue documenting, continue sharing, continue bearing witness.

To those who manipulated my post and engineered my downfall: Your techniques relied on shadows. They cannot survive in the light. And that light now shines brightly indeed.

The apostolic succession continues—not through institutional power, but through bearing witness to truth, regardless of personal cost."

As Darren hit "publish," he thought about how far he had come from that moment in his UNHCR office, posting an image of a burning church with a provocative caption. What had begun as a moment of frustration had evolved into something far more significant—exposing a conspiracy decades in the making, connecting people across continents in resistance to manipulation, and ultimately reclaiming the authentic meaning of witnessing truth.

The Vatican, the UN, the media landscape—all would face upheaval in the coming days as the full extent of Operation Apostle was revealed. But for now, speeding along the Italian coast toward Lithuania and whatever came next, Darren felt something he hadn't experienced since this journey began: hope.

Not the naive hope of his early UN days, but something more tempered and resilient—hope born from seeing that even the most sophisticated systems of control could be disrupted when people chose to bear witness to truth. Whether through official channels or unexpected ones, truth found its apostles.

And sometimes, the thirteenth apostle—the unexpected witness, arriving late to the story—proved essential to its resolution.