My days began before dawn. I'd wake with the salty breeze drifting through the window, pray in silence while the village still slept, and by midday, my sermons were done. The rest of the day slipped away in quiet readings, slow walks along the shore, and the simple thoughts of a modest pastor in a small town.

Until you arrived.

And my world—my faith—descended into chaos. A beautiful, damned chaos.

You were a creature of science, a woman of free mind—atheist, untamed... crafting natural medicines that burned hotter than the fires of hell. You were everything I shouldn't desire. But only God knows the truth that scorches inside me.

From the very first day, you challenged me. Every time I tried to guide you toward the path of the Lord, you'd sidestep me with a sharp comment or a knowing smile, as if my faith were just an old robe swaying in the wind.

The townsfolk feared you. They called you witch. Said you beckoned the Serpent. But the sick, the desperate... they came to you. Because your brews worked.

I thought in time I'd win you over—save you. But it was I who began to unravel.

I knew it that afternoon...

I was closing the church when I saw you, surrounded. A group of my own flock had cornered you. They screamed "witch,""blasphemer,""bringer of wrath." Foul words poured from their supposedly pious mouths.

I couldn't just stand there. I ran to your side. I calmed them. I made them back down. But when I turned to you... you were already gone.

I thought things would settle. That my words had reached them.

I was wrong.

The storm had settled over the village like a curse.

The fire crackled softly in the hearth. I lay on the sofa, a book on my lap, a blanket draped over my legs. Rain pelted the windows, relentless. As if even the sky refused to be silent. The wind moaned through the wooden beams, and every creak of the house felt like a judgment.

I was alone, heart uneasy, trying to focus on the words before me... But I couldn't. Not really.

I shouldn't have let you go.

I should've followed. Searched for you in the woods, in the dark. But I stood there, frozen, staring at the space where you'd been—like a coward. Like a pastor without faith.

Then—a sudden, desperate knock snapped me from my thoughts.

"Who could it be, in this storm?" I muttered, rising from my seat.

Another knock. Louder. More frantic.

"I'm coming!" I called out, my chest tightening without reason.

And then... I opened the door.

And the world stopped.

There you were.

Barely able to stand. Your dress torn, soaked with mud and blood. A crimson line trailing down your forehead. Your lips trembling.

I rushed forward, catching you just before you collapsed.

"Dear God... I've got you, little lamb. I won't let anything happen to you."

I lifted you into my arms, pulling your broken form against me, and shut the door. That night, I made a promise.

I'd care for you until you healed. And by all that is holy... I'd find the wretch who did this to you.