I waited in silence until the information about the weird priest finally ca in. In the anti, I was leaning back against Emily’s desk, my butt resting on the edge, my body tilted slightly backward while my hands balanced against the smooth wooden surface.
My feet swung back and forth in the air in a steady rhythm, never stopping, an almost childish and completely useless attempt to push away the boredom that, impressively enough, had already settled in after a re two miserable minutes.
That being said, to be honest, I couldn’t care less about the information on that idiot priest. Details, background, reputation... none of that really interested . All I wanted to know was exactly where that shaless priest lived, or at the very least which church he usually preached at. Those were the only two pieces of information that actually mattered to .
Naturally, my sisters were still in the room with us. The atmosphere was calm, with a slightly lazy feel to it. Each of them occupied a different corner, sowhat spread out, distracted by their own activities: so were flipping through books, others were simply observing the room or chatting quietly. Only Nyara and Tenebrya stayed a bit farther away from the rest of us, standing near one of the walls.
The reason was obvious: Nyara is naturally shy. Ever since we walked into Emily’s office, she had stayed tucked away in a corner, quietly watching the situation unfold. I ended up placing Tenebrya beside her, more out of necessity than anything else.
It was already getting exhausting trying to talk to Emily and Laura when neither of them could even bother to look at thanks to Tenebrya’s presence.
Speaking of Tenebrya, she was sitting in a chair next to Nyara, lightly swinging her legs while looking around with blatant curiosity.
Her eyes wandered across every corner of the office, the shelves stacked with papers, Emily’s neatly organized desk, the small decorations scattered around the room. She seed to take it all in with a childlike fascination. She could look adorable even doing sothing as simple as observing her surroundings.
It was a sha humans couldn’t see Nyara’s true appearance. If they could, they’d realize just how adorable she really was. Her small pale eyes carried a soft, peculiar glow, and her delicate little face moved from side to side as she watched everything with curiosity. Every tiny gesture, the slight tilt of her head, her cautious blinking, the way her hands stayed close to her body, only made her even cuter.
Anyway, I kept my attention on Tenebrya, so absorbed that I ended up zoning out from what was happening around . Even so, Laura’s voice eventually pulled my attention back: “By the way...” Laura began. Her tone carried a light, casual curiosity. When I turned to look at her, I noticed her eyes were fixed on , waiting: “What are you planning to do when you et the priest?” she asked.
Laura’s question caught off guard. For a mont, it felt like her words had interrupted the flow of my thoughts. My eyes blinked a few tis in clear confusion as I tried to organize the ideas that suddenly seed tangled inside my head. What exactly would I do with the priest once I found him?
To be honest, that part had never really crossed my mind. Up until now, the only clear objective I had was figuring out where he was. It was almost like an impulse, a persistent urge pushing toward him.
Any other decision, any action or choice, I had left for later... for the mont when I would finally be standing in front of him. But now, with the question echoing inside my head, I realized sothing unsettling. What exactly should I do when I found him?
I had a very strong feeling that sothing was wrong with the priest. It wasn’t a structured thought, nor a logical conclusion. It was just... a feeling. Sothing out of place, like a wrong note in a song that was supposed to be perfect.
The problem was that I couldn’t even explain what that “sothing wrong” was. And if I didn’t know what was wrong... how exactly could I fix it? I had a vague sense that it had sothing to do with the praying. That idea kept returning to my mind, as if it were the central piece of a puzzle I still couldn’t fully see.
But why? Praying wasn’t a bad thing. In fact, people were probably praying right at that very mont, in churches, in humble hos, beside their beds before going to sleep... Many believers probably asked God every single day for their families to stay safe, for their children to grow up well, for difficult days to pass quickly.
And yet... I felt absolutely nothing when I thought about those people. No discomfort. No warning. Nothing. But with the priest, it was different. Strangely different. Honestly... the more I thought about it, the stranger everything beca.
The feeling only deepened, as if there were sothing hidden just beneath the surface of my thoughts, sothing I still couldn’t clearly see. So why? Why, out of all the people who could be praying at that very mont... was the priest different?
In short, I had absolutely no idea what I would do with the priest. The only thing I was certain about was what would happen if that anger returned when I stood face-to-face with him, the sa irrational rage from before, dense and suffocating, that seed to set my chest on fire and cloud any trace of reason.
If that happened: (I would definitely kill him!) The thought appeared in my mind with terrifying certainty, firm and cold, as if I were simply repeating a universal truth, sothing simple, obvious, inevitable.
There was no hesitation, no doubt, not even guilt. And that was exactly what left perplexed. The way that thought settled into my mind... naturally and effortlessly. As if it were the right path. As if there were absolutely nothing wrong with it.
My eyes blinked once, and then my gaze shifted toward Emily and Laura. Naturally, both of them were already looking back at . Their lips were slightly raised, and their eyes were a little wider than usual. They didn’t look scared. They looked... surprised. Surprised by my words.
It was the kind of expression soone makes when they hear sothing completely unexpected, sothing that doesn’t match the person who said it. As if they simply couldn’t believe those sa words could have co from .
To be honest... I wasn’t even sure myself. Deep down, I didn’t really understand why I had answered that way, with so much conviction. The words had co out before I even had the chance to properly think about them.
Noticing my silence after my less-than-friendly words, Laura was the first to speak. She hesitated: “I...” she began, but the sentence died in her throat. Her fingers intertwined nervously as her gaze wandered across the floor. Then she took a deep breath: “I’m not sure I like that...” she continued, her voice quieter now, filled with uncertainty. Her eyes returned to mine, cautious: “You killing humans, I an...” She paused briefly, frowning slightly: “That doesn’t really seem like your way of handling things”
I didn’t respond to Laura’s words. I remained silent, my gaze lowered, as if the floor had suddenly beco far more interesting than anything else. My field of vision followed only my feet, which moved back and forth in a smooth, natural motion.
Laura was right. Normally, I wouldn’t handle things this way. But honestly... I didn’t really care. The idea didn’t provoke guilt, fear, or hesitation. If I needed to kill the priest, I probably wouldn’t feel anything at all while doing it. It was a cold thought, but it was also true.
Still, that wasn’t my original goal. First, I needed to look into this priest. There had been sothing about him that bothered from the start, an uncomfortable feeling that was hard to explain. I needed to understand what it was, to figure out where that strange impression ca from. After that... I would decide what to do.
I kept my eyes on my feet as I drifted into my thoughts, my mind wandering through possibilities and assumptions. In the middle of that, I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, Emily and Laura looking in my direction. Their gazes carried curiosity, but I chose to ignore them for the mont.
That lasted only until a sharp sound cut through the room. A dry click echoed from Emily’s monitor speakers, imdiately catching my attention. I looked up and found her leaning slightly forward in her chair, her hand sliding over the mouse as she opened the email on the screen. The bluish glow of the monitor reflected across her focused face.
Apparently, the information about the priest had finally arrived: “Let’s see who our priest friend really is” Emily comnted casually, though there was a faint note of curiosity in her voice as she opened the attached files.
My attention was naturally drawn to the screen. I straightened up slightly, feeling my curiosity grow. Now we would find out what kind of person that priest really was.
(Dominic Virel...) The na sounded natural in my mind the mont my eyes read it. Next to it was a photograph of the priest. The picture looked like it had been taken a few years earlier, he seed a bit younger than in the recent videos where he appeared preaching. Even so, there was no doubt it was the sa man.
There was other information as well: his current age, family connections, forr jobs, past relationships, places he had lived, and decisions that had shaped his life. It was like flipping through a ticulously organized dossier, attached files that docunted, almost step by step, the life of the man nad Dominic Virel.
In short, that priest seed to have lived an ordinary life. Nothing in his past suggested any real connection to faith. For decades, Dominic showed not the slightest interest in religion. On the contrary, so records suggested he didn’t even believe in higher powers or any kind of divinity.
However, sothing changed. His behavior underwent an abrupt transformation at the exact mont I made my first public appearance. From that day on, Dominic began to preach. At first, his words echoed only among small groups, almost always ignored. He was a complete unknown, just another man talking about faith sowhere forgotten.
But that changed recently. All of a sudden, his popularity exploded. Sermons that previously barely gathered half a dozen listeners began attracting crowds. His na started circulating, whispered among believers and the curious alike, as if sothing in his words had sparked a sudden fervor in people.
Even so, setting aside all that information, which, at the mont, didn’t help much, there were also more practical details in the dossier: the address where he currently lived, a small modest house in an old neighborhood, and the na of the church where he currently preached.
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