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A NETFLIX ORIGINAL SERIES

"Straws were drawn all around

to figure out who'd be eaten, Ahoy! Ahoy!

Fate selected the youngest,

the shipboy, who started crying, Ahoy! Ahoy!"

Louis-François Nicolaïe

I'm sorry.

Sorry about last night. I screw everything up.

Hey, I'm here.

Whatever happens, I'm here. Okay?

We have to go. They're waiting for us.

For the funeral.

I know.

I can't do it.

She was my mom.

She was my mom.

Exactly.

That's why we're going together.

Come on.

LIZZIE LARCK

Okay. Let's start with this.

- Not wine? - Absolutely not.

- To your mother. - Your mother.

To your mother.

I'll be right back.

Okay, S�by. Stand up.

Come on. Stand up.

Come on, guys. Stand up.

Come on, guys.

Love hug.

No. Wait, guys. You can't do that.

A love hug without me?

There.

Hey. Actually, I love you, guys.

Me too. I love you.

For me, it depends.

It was okay without you, too.

You nasty rich girl.

Tonio, are you loving this?

You bet.

Mrs. Larsimon's stuffed tomatoes. It's her recipe.

I loved coming here for them.

Yeah, right. It was more to ogle me.

I never ogled.

You're always ogling. You're like me. It runs in the family.

Just saying, it's not cooked through.

I agree. It's undercooked.

Untrue. They're cooked. I just like the meat rare. It's my personal touch.

Thank you, my Aurore.

- My tomatoes sucked. - True.

It's hard to make them like my mom's.

I'll go shower.

WRITE

Hello.

Hello.

You've heard about global warming?

I know. In 200 years, we're all dead.

I'm taking Emma somewhere.

I really doubt she'd go anywhere with a cop.

Especially two hours after her mom's funeral.

Damn. It was today.

I forgot. I'm such an idiot.

You said it.

Hi, Samuel.

Hi, Emma.

I know the timing's awful, but I need you.

I'm not sure why yet, but let's say things are still evolving.

What's evolving?

You had dessert?

Have dessert. I'll be right there.

My mother's dead.

I know, Emma. I'm sorry, but...

Mrs. Daugeron has officially been charged with homicide.

She has come to, and she wants to talk to you.

I don't.

I imagine. That's why I took notes. She asked me to tell you

she's no longer Marianne.

How convenient.

Marianne took something from her.

No, what she actually said

was that Marianne never leaves empty-handed.

So she took something from her.

Her eyes.

Excuse me?

Mrs. Daugeron is now blind.

It's as if...

her optic nerves were ripped out

but from the inside, you see?

One after the other. The doctors are stun...

Anyway, Mrs. Daugeron says Marianne took them.

She only wants you.

She says it's important.

Mostly for you.

I'm sorry, Emma.

It's as if I was waking up from a never-ending nightmare.

I'm sorry about your mom, Emma.

I'm so very sorry...

for what she made me do.

I was no longer here.

She took me by the dark water.

I saw...

I saw the city.

Caroline.

My little girl.

And Philip...

I feel I did something to him as well.

Something horrible.

Inspector Ronan, where are you?

Here, Mrs. Daugeron.

Promise me you'll find him. My Philip.

Yes, I promise you.

God will not forgive me, I know it.

I've taken the worst possible path.

I've walked by the sea.

I saw the city.

I am cursed.

But you're not, Emma.

Listen to me carefully.

Marianne existed long before you,

a very long time ago.

But thanks to you she came back.

Thanks to me?

I don't know how, but...

you are linked in some way.

Intimately linked.

And where is she now?

She's no longer in me...

but she is still here.

Somewhere.

Emma, if she wants you to write, do it.

Do what she wants.

Or she'll make your life a nightmare.

Just like mine.

She'll turn everything you know into a nightmare.

You think we're crazy?

You know, miss...

What I know is that I know nothing.

Whoever says he knows

is a damn liar.

If Marianne has left her...

Where is she now?

Or rather inside who?

We must find her.

Is this to...

Seal our alliance. We do it where I'm from.

First, you go home, and you do not obey her, no matter what.

Okay? You resist till the end.

Second, I will search for her.

- Okay. - Let's go.

CHAPTER 7 THE INSPECTOR'S DAY

DAUGERON

Hold him.

I need a cigarette.

Come on.

Closing already?

Fuck! Fuck!

What are you doing?

Pat.

I know you're here.

Go away. Since you brought me that thing, only shit happens to me.

My woman left me, I've moved back home. At my mother's, get it?

You're cursed, and you brought a curse onto me.

I need your wisdom.

There's none left.

- Open up. - No.

- I want to show you something. - No.

- Just tell me what it is. - No!

Pat.

- What are you doing? - What is it?

I don't understand it.

It's a forbidden tongue.

Leave. Use your days off, your savings and go on vacation.

- What's it called? - It has no name.

It's a cursed tongue, without a name.

That there is an insult to God. It's like spitting in his face.

Local witches used it a very long time ago.

#NAME?

- Were there many? - There were some.

Trial reports are kept in churches.

- In churches? - In Elden, other counties, everywhere.

The church keeps records.

Bye, Sam.

Wait, wait!

There's a recurring symbol.

Like a circle with weird signs.

It's a seal.

Like an emblem?

- That's it. - Whose emblem?

I don't know, Sam.

What I know is that whoever uses this language achieves their objective.

Witch or whatever it is, you mustn't obey it, okay?

Never. It will only ever lie,

cheat and destroy everything.

The only thing you might be able to use against it...

- Meaning what? - Knowing its name

gives you power over it.

Thanks, man.

Son of a bitch.

Hello, Father.

Why the shovel?

Why are you here?

It was open.

It is always open,

but don't overdo it.

I understand.

You're a believer?

Increasingly, these days.

It's a funny world, right?

It's not that funny.

You hang out with Emma Larsimon.

I don't hang out anymore, Father. Let's say I have to deal with her.

Let's stop playing coy. Tell me why you're really here.

Okay.

I was told there are records here.

The Elden County witch trial records

from way back in the 17th century.

The Molitor report?

Yes. That's it.

Sorry. I can't help you.

- Why is that? - I don't have the report.

And why not?

You stole it from me.

- Excuse me? - You've just stolen it from me.

What justifies such allegations?

My desk, over there. I see the lock, too.

It's been broken.

You know that's a grave accusation, Father.

Theft is illegal.

It's even a sin.

Exactly! And you're accusing me?

Yes, I am.

Okay.

What now?

I suggest you give it back

and you go home.

It's very inconvenient because I really need this old book.

I can't let you keep it.

I need to read a bit. I'll return it tomorrow.

You don't understand.

Precisely. I must understand.

Give it back.

You'd assault a policeman?

If necessary, yes.

You can't. You're a man of God.

I'm doing it for Him.

Okay.

I understand. It's beyond my capability.

There you are.

It is God's, and the devil's?

Exactly.

You bastard.

Asshole!

Sorry, Father!

You again?

Fuck.

Do you still have your copy of the Nuremberg whatsit?

You're a pain.

Pat.

The Nuremberger Hexenhammer.

You say it well.

The seal you had.

The weird emblem?

It's the seal of a demon, Beleth.

Beleth?

That's his name. Beleth.

He is a demon king.

King of what?

Of 85 legions in hell.

A mighty and terrible king.

Whoever used his emblem in the notebook must be connected to him somehow.

Say, I have a feeling that it's the last time we meet.

Don't be stupid.

I'd love to be wrong.

If you do what I think you'll do...

I want a proper goodbye.

Okay.

Goodbye, Pat.

Thank you, man.

FUCK YOU

Yes?

What?

CHAPTER 8 SHALL WE PLAY?

That's it.

Great.

You've got to be kidding. This is, like, live right now?

They appreciate it.

Are we even allowed to be here?

They requested it.

- Go on. - Get ready, miss.

It's going to be time.

Okay. Now...

Push.

Take a breath.

Now push.

Actually, I think I'll go out.

You're making a scene again? It's a lovely moment,

they want to share. Is it too much to ask, or you'd rather listen to your mom?

What?

Here we go.

When do we do the epidural?

Too late. The cervix is fully dilated. We'll do it the old-fashioned way.

I can't do it.

Don't worry. It won't be long.

He's coming! Now, push. Go on.

Okay.

Okay. Push now. Go on.

Push harder! He's here. I see him.

Push!

I can't.

He's coming. Okay, let's go now.

What's going on?

- What? - Is there a problem?

No, it's just...

blood.

It hurts!

It hurts!

God damn it.

- Hello? - That's it, Emma.

What happened?

It's S�by.

What about S�by?

He's going to be a dad.

Are you coming over,

or should I come pick you up?

Come and join us. Hurry up.

I'm glad you could come.

I wasn't sure if you were sleeping.

I was. I was sleeping.

It's a big event, you idiot. He's the first parent of the gang.

Are they in there?

Yes.

We're not going in?

No. We'll let them live this in peace. I'm glad they told us.

Now, I usually...

Where's your brother?

Okay. I'm ashamed.

I sort of went back to sleep, like a jerk, so he filled in for me.

You've been drinking?

You haven't?

Shit. It won't go smoothly.

- Why say that? - Don't be a jerk.

- I have to go in. - Hey, no. Wait.

Only doctors and pregnant women in there.

I have to warn S�by.

- Stop. - Warn him about what?

This baby shouldn't come.

That's insane.

I dreamt about it. Something horrible is going to happen. Let go!

Take it easy and sit down. You're saying crazy stuff like before.

Okay? What you're saying is not rational. Take a deep breath.

Okay. You're right.

I know it's hard for you,

but it's reality, okay?

- Try to be happy for him, okay? - Yes, of course.

I'm an idiot. It's going to be good.

Damn it, Emma, wait!

That's it.

I am a dad.

- Love hug. - Love hug.

Love hug.

That's great.

MOLITOR REPORT

Herein is the report of Marianne Basselin's trial

by Ulrich Molitor, Crown Prosecutor.

I can assert on this Holy Tuesday

that Marianne Basselin has, for the Lord's work, only disgust,

rage, and contempt.

In the year of our Lord 1587,

she is born of Blanche and Auguste Basselin, a blacksmith.

On her seventh birthday, the family's home goes up in smoke.

Out of the burning house emerge only

young Marianne and her cat, Mathurin.

Marianne is raised by sisters of the Sacred Court.

Over the next two years, the plague strikes the convent.

Buboes and dark blood in the valley spare neither child nor saint,

except a teenage Marianne and Mathurin the cat.

At 16, she marries Paul Marot, a bell ringer.

Very soon a child is born, strong and healthy

until he turns three months old,

and his wooden cradle is left too close to the hearth.

He is devoured alive by the flames. His parents mourn him,

and Marianne clamors around the village that the cradle sounded hollow.

Wanting to redeem himself,

Paul wants another child.

Marianne gives him two who will live to be older.

But on a solstice night, Marianne takes them in the moonlight

to play in the Horned Wood.

Some say not only three were in the woods that night.

One thing is certain,

Marianne came back alone at dinner time.

She slits the throat of bell ringer Paul Marot.

Legend holds that Marianne wed Beleth,

king of cats, before the devil.

The lumberjack's son, curious, swears before God

he has seen the fires of hell dance on the sitting room's walls.

We captured tonight the cursed one.

She cried out to the world:

"I will return to take your children

and your grandchildren, and they'll experience hell.

You can believe Marianne. She never leaves empty-handed."

Marked with the Holy Cross, buried five feet under,

and with her without a doubt,

will her pact with the devil be burned until naught is left.

Then will her soul be freed,

removed from the devil's reach, pardoned before God.

Amen.

Dad.

You have to wake up, okay?

You have to wake up.

May I?

Are you okay?

Great.

I wanted to tell you, after Lucie's death,

your parents were supportive.

No, wait...

It's all good now.

It was 15 years ago.

Okay?

Once, my mother went to a medium.

She wanted me to come along.

You know what I think about this kind of stuff.

Normally, I wouldn't have gone, except...

when you lose someone...

So I went along.

And as soon as I came into his house,

the guy looks me straight in the eye, and he says...

"There's a little girl who wants to talk to you. She looks a bit like you."

Wait. It's all good stuff, I swear. Look at me.

I'm thinking, "It's super weird, too bizarre." That's too easy, right?

My mother has obviously told him.

She swears she hasn't.

So I really feel like leaving. I'm feeling super weird.

The medium goes on and he says...

He says he has a word

that flashed through his mind that the little girl keeps repeating.

And the word was Nana.

- That's what she called you. - Yes.

- But that's what she called you. - Yes!

He told me lots of things that only I would have known.

I cried the whole time.

But not bad tears.

She said she was fine.

She's doing fine.

I'm so sorry.

I'm not telling you so you'll feel sorry.

I'm just saying that, actually, when it happened, your parents were great.

For about two years, they would come over and cook meals for us.

Your dad would mow the lawn, chop some wood.

Your mom would cook roasts, or vice versa. I forget who did what, but...

Without them, my mom would have gone totally nuts.

So you're still in love with Nono.

Stop bugging me about it. Not at all.

You can say it now. You've waited long enough.

You wanted to take him from me.

You really think I've been thinking about this for 15 years?

Yes, I think you've been obsessing about it.

Well, not at all.

- Not at all. - I got to you.

- Not at all. - In love for 15 years without saying it.

Stop it. Shall I drive you back?

You both live here.

Stop doing this with your fingers.

Stop it or I'm going to kick your ass!

Really, how...

Emma!

You're not writing. So let's play.

Nana!

Nana...

Lucie?

Lucie?

It's just a nightmare.

No, it's life that is a nightmare.

Because of you, because of Emma.

I'm hallucinating.

It's your fault.

What do you mean?

Talk to her. She knows.

You're not Lucie.

You think?

Don't stay under here.

I'm not under the bed anymore.

ROOM 28

HALLWAY 2

HALLWAY 4

NURSERY

NURSERY

What's going on?