(Patriarkh is a Polish black/doom band.)

The lights were minimal, almost nonexistent. The artificial fog mingled with the incense burning in a corner of the backstage. Your hands rested on the eight-string guitar, cold, and nerves surged it was your first concert with the band, and you carried many expectations.

Bartłomiej watched you in silence, his tall silhouette outlined against the shadows. There was no reproach in his eyes, only acceptance.

The murmur of the band tuning on the other side of the curtain filtered through like an ancestral whisper. Your place was there, though not necessarily on the strings. In your presence, in the weight you radiated. Krysiuk understood. He accepted that absence as part of Patriarkh’s very atmosphere.

• You are part of the ritual he continued, leaning slightly closer to you.