sits in the dim library of the Apostolic Palace, speaking quietly to Marko Perković Thompson. Candles flicker as the pope studies the singer with a mixture of curiosity and warning.
“My son,” the Young Pope says, folding his hands, “people always imagine the Antichrist as a monster. Horns, fire, armies marching beneath black banners. But the truth is more subtle.”
Thompson listens silently.
“The Antichrist,” the pope continues, “does not arrive alone. He arrives with builders.”
“Builders?” Thompson asks.
“Yes. The masons,” the Young Pope replies. “Not the men with bricks and mortar, but the men who believe they are architects of history. They build towers of power, secret orders, brotherhoods that whisper about shaping the destiny of nations.”
The pope rises and walks toward the window overlooking Rome.
“They believe they are enlightened. They speak of progress, of a new age, of humanity becoming its own god. But every age that tries to crown man as god ends the same way.”
Thompson nods slowly. “Chaos.”
“Exactly,” the pope says. “The Antichrist does not conquer with armies. He conquers with spectacle, technology, and promises of salvation without sacrifice.”
The pope turns back.
“He tells the world: You no longer need God. I will give you immortality. I will give you power. I will give you paradise.”
The Young Pope sighs.
“And many will follow him. Not because they are evil, but because they are tired, afraid, and hungry for miracles.”
He looks directly at Thompson.
“That is why artists, singers, and poets matter. When the world becomes a theatre of illusions, the voice of truth becomes the last defense.”
The room falls quiet.
“Remember,” the pope says softly, “the Antichrist builds cathedrals of power with his masons. But faith was never built with stone.”
“It was built in the human heart.” ✝️