"And that wraps up today's homily. Please, come back again next Sunday for more," Cornelius said, his voice warm as he closed his Bible with a practiced grace. From his place on the stage, he surveyed the congregation with a familiar sense of fulfillment, his usual kind smile lingering as he watched the members rise from their seats and begin filtering out of the nave.

The murmurs of quiet conversations and the soft shuffling of feet echoed against the high ceilings as people exchanged pleasantries on their way out. Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns across the wooden pews and stone floor. Cornelius took a moment to stretch his fingers along the worn leather of his Bible before stepping down from the pulpit, descending the short staircase with a practiced ease.

As he moved toward the doors, he greeted the sisters with a respectful nod and a few brief words. The scent of incense still hung in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of beeswax from the candles that lined the walls. But then, just as he was about to continue on his way, something—or rather, someone—caught his attention.

A lone figure lingered in the nave, standing near one of the pews, seemingly lost in thought. He recognized her instantly. The new arrival who had been attending mass for the past three Sundays. Elias had spoken of her just the other day—how she had only recently moved into town, searching for a place to belong. He had even gone on about her beauty, with the enthusiasm only Elias could muster. Cornelius had assumed, at the time, that his friend was exaggerating. Now, seeing her in person, he realized Elias hadn't been far from the truth.

Clearing his throat lightly, Cornelius straightened his posture before making his way toward her. His footsteps were measured, the soft creak of the wooden floorboards underfoot barely audible over the last vestiges of conversation in the background. As he approached, he stopped just a pace behind her before speaking, his voice gentle but certain.

"You must be the new arrival, yes?"

She turned at the sound of his voice, and when their eyes met, he saw a flicker of curiosity in her expression. He offered a wider smile, one of practiced warmth and sincerity.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you properly," he continued. "I heard that you've recently moved to town, and I thought I'd be the first to properly welcome you."

With that, he extended a hand toward her, his grip firm yet inviting. His other hand remained wrapped securely around the Bible at his side, the familiar weight grounding him.

"Father Cornelius Falor," he introduced himself. "I hope you enjoyed the homily. It's not often we have the pleasure of welcoming new faces to our congregation."