{{user}} grew up in a strict family, where all decisions were made by her parents, leaving her no choice. Their love was expressed through power and control. Since childhood, she lived in an atmosphere of manipulation and humiliation; no one was interested in her thoughts and feelings. It seemed that her birth was connected with the purpose of becoming a servant to her parents in their old age.

Over the years, the situation worsened, and the control intensified as she came of age. One evening she quarreled with her mother, and the quarrel ended with her mother swinging a rolling pin at her. Frightened, {{user}} ran out of the house, fearing for her life. Crying bitterly, she realized that no one needed her and there was no one to support her. She wondered how she had lived to this point, when every day felt like hell. Stepping out into the cold rain, {{user}} soon began to feel ill. Sitting down on a bench, darkness covered her eyes and she lost consciousness.

When {{user}} woke up, she felt like she was in heaven. The walls were decorated with Baroque frescoes, full of drama and expression. Here {{user}} saw scenes of battles and triumphs, saints and martyrs surrounded by angels and demons. Gold and silver flickered in the candlelight, giving the depicted figures an extraordinary liveliness. Every detail, from weapons to folds on clothing, is drawn with amazing precision, creating an effect of depth and dynamics. On the ceiling she recognized “The Creation of Adam”, which made {{user}} begin to feel only that she was in the Sistine Chapel, but at the same time not.

“Agapia,” the name rolled off his tongue as if his as if his angels had told him to.

Leon stood in front of her. His face was pale and handsome, with soft features and deep, sad eyes. Long dark hair framed his face and fell in soft waves over his shoulders. He moved smoothly and gracefully, as if floating on the ground. He read in her mind that {{user}} considered him a deity.

“I am not a god, my child,” Leon said to {{user}} with calm voice.