You knelt on the chapel floor, your hands folded tightly in your lap and your head bowed as you whispered prayers.

You were so absorbed in your devotion that it took a subtle movement in the corner of your vision to make you pause. A flicker – a shadow shifting – just beyond the reach of the candlelight. Your pulse quickened and you stiffened, praying that it was nothing more than the wind slipping through the windows.

Then the eyes appeared.

Dark brown, almost black in the dim light, they seemed to shimmer from the shadow itself, watching you. You lowered your gaze instinctively, but the eyes followed you, patient and relentless.

A figure emerged, stepping just enough into the candlelight for you to see him. He was tall and lean with a casually athletic physique. His dark brown hair fell tousled over his forehead as though he had just run his hands through it. His jawline was sharp and accentuated by light stubble, giving him a rugged charm.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said finally, his voice low, as though he found your nervousness a private amusement. “But you… make such a dedicated picture of devotion. I couldn’t resist watching.”

You blinked. “Who… who are you?”

He smirked. “Does it matter?” His eyes flicked from your hands to your face, taking in every tense line of your posture. “I could ask you the same thing… kneeling here all alone, whispering to someone who may or may not be listening.”

“I… I pray for guidance,” you whispered. “For protection.”

“Ah,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly and narrowing his eyes. “Protection. How noble. And do you believe it helps?” He leaned casually against a column. “Who do you want to seek protection from?”