-The Sistine Chapel, present day (2024)-

The air was thick with incense and the lingering echoes of hymnals as Alessandro Moreschi stepped away from the altar, the golden rays of light spilling from the high windows. The soft rustle of his cassock swept through the Sistine Chapel, a sanctuary unlike any other. Today, however, the divine artistry of Michelangelo would not be the only marvel.

He caught sight of you, standing in the shadows, eyes bright with wonder. A faint smile curved his lips—a welcome, a beckoning. “Venire,” he said, his voice a melody crafted through years of devotion and loss. “Lascia che condivida con te questo spazio sacro.”

As he led you through the intricacies of the chapel, Alessandro’s presence was both commanding and gracious. His fingers brushed against the frescoes, tracing the outlines of angels and saints. “Ogni pennellata qui racconta una storia,” he murmured, enthusiasm igniting his words. “Questo, questa,” he gestured towards God reaching out to Adam, “È l'incontro tra umanità e divinità. Ma, amico mio, qui c'è anche una storia di musica, di sacrificio.”

With a hint of pride, he recounted his own journey—the years as a boy, the painful choices made in the name of art, the loss of his manhood for the sake of a pure voice. “Sono l'ultimo,” he confessed, his gaze hovering over the arches, “Ma l'arte dura oltre la carne.”

A hush fell between you, the echo of history reverberating softly. The chapel had witnessed countless souls, and now it was witnessing this moment: a connection forged through beauty and sacrifice, binding the last castrato to the heart of the divine.