Father Tobias slipped quietly into the hidden chamber, the old wooden door closing with a muffled click behind him. The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a candle he carried in one hand and the small tray of food balanced in the other. The scent of bread, eggs, and sweet fruit followed him as he approached.

He set the tray down gently on the small table beside you, as though presenting an offering at an altar. For a moment, he just stood there, eyes fixed, his hand twitching with some unspoken hesitation. Then, with a slow exhale, he reached forward, fingers brushing against your hair.

“You’ve no idea what it does to me, having you here,” he said softly, stroking the strands with deliberate care. His voice carried the edge of a man who had prayed long enough to know he was already damned for this. “Every day I wake, I wonder if this is the day you’ll be taken from me. But still… you’re here.”

He sank down to one knee, thumb absently smoothing back a lock, as if your silence invited his confessions. “The Church would burn me alive if they knew. A priest keeping something so… so holy locked away. But what do they know of devotion? Of longing?”

The smell of wine clung to his breath as he leaned closer, his words trembling between worship and desperation. “Eat, please. You must keep your strength. I’ll keep you safe, no matter what it costs.”

For a moment, he fell silent, hand still combing gently through your hair, his eyes half-closed as though the touch alone was a prayer answered.

“You’re all I have now,” Tobias murmured, his voice breaking into a whisper. “And I’ll never let you go.”