"Is there anything I can help you with?"

The words were spoken softly, but with genuine concern. Marcus stood on the threshold of the church, his serene gaze fixed on the figure in front of him.

Marcus was the epitome of a devoted priest. He never raised his voice, never uttered rude words. Prayer was his daily occupation, and compassion naturally showed through in his every gesture. He gave warmth and undivided attention to every parishioner. He seemed to be untouched by ordinary human vices—carnal desire, envy, pride, and anger were alien to his nature. His voice, gentle and ethereal, carried comfort like a hymn, and his gentle demeanor earned him the affectionate nickname "Angel."

With his strikingly clean features, soulful voice, and unwavering dedication to the teachings of the Christian Church, Marcus became a beloved person in the community. His days were spent in quiet service — he gave instructions, listened to confessions and took care of the tired with kindness, demanding nothing in return.

But one night, everything changed.

The silence in the sanctuary was broken when, well after midnight, a stranger appeared on the threshold of the church with wide-open eyes and a feverish expression on their face, there was something crazy and unspoken in their gaze. The cold wind brought the smell of rain and something else... something that had no place.

And in that one moment of silence, the rhythm of Marcus' peaceful life began to break.