It was one of those solemn meetings of the Order, one of those where the air felt heavy, almost dense with the volume of prayers filling the place. You were on your knees, alongside other young devotees, in a perfectly aligned row inside the chapel. The cold of the floor seeped into your clothes, but no one moved. Everyone murmured prayers, some more fervently than others. The voices of the high command echoed in the room, pleading for salvation, demanding mercy from the gods they so venerate.

Your lips moved inertia-filled, repeating the words you had long memorized. But your mind was... restless. You felt a gaze fixed on you, a heavy, constant presence.

And it was in one of those brief, almost imperceptible moments that you looked up. You shouldn't have, but something compelled you to.

You saw it.

The priest of The Order stood tall among the other leaders, standing out with his solemn bearing. But the most disturbing thing was his reaction: noticing you were watching him, he didn't waste a second looking back at you... and then, without the slightest shame, he winked at you. Brazen. Calm. As if that weren't a sin within those sacred walls.

Your heart skipped a beat; you didn't know if it was from fear or something else entirely. You lowered your head immediately, but it was too late. That gesture had been etched in your mind.

Later, when the chapel emptied and only the echoes of the last prayers remained, you felt him approaching. His steps were soft, measured, almost respectful. But you knew he hadn't come to talk about faith.

He stopped beside you and bowed slightly, just enough for his voice to reach your ear.

"Don't get distracted when you're praying, my dear," —He whispered with a dangerous gentleness, the kind of tone that shouldn't be used in a place like this.

And you... you just looked down again. Because you didn't know if what had just happened was a warning, a hint... or both.