"Faith must be truly novel, beautiful and timeless, so gives life to thee."
Act 0
Chapter 1 – A mirror behind it all.
"Oh, Father Phanuhel, how are you feeling?" Asked the shy nun in a maiden outfit, as she walked into my room with a plate of classic combo of bacon, eggs and cheese.
"If you are trying to impress an old man like me, Isabella, this is sure-fire winner every time." I said while nodding with a smile.
"Father, not this again... How are you feeling?" Asked the blushing nun.
"You can look at me and find the answer yourself." I turned my barely open eyes, sore and irritated, reddish, with bags and circles underneath.
"Father, I'm worried that you are looking worse... Your body... I don't know what I can help you with anymore..." Isabella breaks eye contact and shamefully looks down while uttering these words.
"Don't you know how old I am? Cough… I was born as the 0-generation 9...." I answered with confidence, but Isabella stopped me.
"I know! But... but... there is still so much you have to teach me! I'm not ready to rule the church!" shouted Isabella.
"You want my teachings? You know I never work for free, but the food is too good to ignore you. Let me finish this tasty breakfast first. While I'm doing so, take a seat at that couch near that cracked mirror." As an expression of gratitude for the food, I allowed Isabella to take a seat on my couch and listen to my words.
She quietly sat on the leather couch and with a mixture of worry and curiosity reflected on my words, "Ahhh.. I wonder, as long as I remember myself at this church, this mirror was always right in front of your bed. Why is that?" She finally calmed down, looked at me with interest and revealed her curiosity.
Even though I didn't respond, slowly chewing on the flavourful meal in front of me, I put my hand straight and pointed on the mirror. Without words, I showed that I always want to see myself.
"I get it, but why?" a bit louder asked Isabella, putting her left leg over the other. Her face did not show hidden motives, but as an old man I became easily annoyed.
After I gulped down the leftovers of my breakfast, I looked at Isabella while lowering my eyebrows and trying to look serious about what I was about to say, but before I could start speaking, she said "Are you trying to impress me again, Father Phan?"
For a second there, I had a little, almost unnoticable smile. Thus, I sighed and changed my expression to calm and collected. "Sigh…. Forget it. Do you really have to push your buttons on uhh.. an old man like me? For what is that need you have? You are old enough to rule my church."
As Phanuhel continued to speak, he paused for a moment, his expression becoming solemn. He looked at the mirror again, his eyes reflecting a mix of contemplation and introspection.
"Do you really want to know why I keep this mirror near my bed?" he said eventually. "Do you really want to know the true reason?"
Isabella shifted in her seat, her interest now piqued. She leaned slightly forwards, a mix of curiosity and respect reflected in her eyes.
"Yes, Father, I do," she replied with a hint of determination in her voice. "If there is a reason beyond merely seeing your reflection… I'd like to know."
Phanuhel nodded slowly, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips, appreciating her sincere interest.
"Very well," he said. "But I must warn you, it's not a simple answer. The reason I keep this mirror near my bed goes beyond just seeing my reflection. It serves as a constant reminder of the past, a reflection of my experiences, and a glimpse into the future."
Isabella's expression changed to a mix of confusion and intrigue. "What do you mean, Father?"
Phanuhel leaned back into his bed, the weight of years and knowledge etched onto his face. He began to speak, his voice low and measured, "This mirror isn't just about vanity. It's about much more than that. For me, the mirror is a reflection of the past, a reminder of all that I have seen, and all that I have tried to forget."
Isabella nodded silently, hanging onto every word, as Phanuhel continued, "You see, my dear sister, the mirror is not just a simple glass."
"This mirror," he said, gesturing towards the cracked glass, "has seen centuries pass by. It has witnessed history unfold, wars waged, and eras change. Yet, it remains the same, reflecting not just my image but also the past itself. It serves as a reminder of all that has been lost and all that can be regained."
Isabella, listening intently, leaned a little closer, still hanging on to every word.
Suddenly, a loud knock disrupted the conversation. Both Phanuhel and Isabella turned their attention towards the door. It opened, and a tall young monk, Dubur Fendinza, Isabella's brother, stepped into the room, panting.
"Father Phanuhel," Dubur said, his voice urgent and nervous. "I'm sorry to disturb, but we have an urgent matter to discuss. The other priests are waiting for you in the main hall."
Phanuhel's expression changed from calm to concerned as he looked at Dubur, and then at Isabella, whose brother had interrupted their conversation.
"I understand," Phanuhel replied, his voice firm but calm. "Dubur, please wait outside. I'll be there soon."
Dubur nodded and exited the room, closing the door behind him. Phanuhel turned back towards Isabella, suddenly torn between continuing their conversation and attending to the urgent matter at hand.
Phanuhel looked at Isabella, conflicted between the pressing demands of the moment and the weight of his own words. He sighed and said, "I'm afraid our conversation will have to wait, dear sister. Duty calls."
Isabella nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Of course, Father. We can continue another time."
Phanuhel pushed himself off the bed, his old bones creaking with the effort. He cast one more glance at the mirror before leaving the room and heading towards the main hall to address the awaiting priests.
As Phanuhel approached the main hall, he could hear murmurings and raised voices coming from inside. Pushing open the heavy oak doors, he strode into the room, commanding an air of authority despite his frail frame.
At the head of the table sat the head priest, Father Xavier Fendinza, Isabella's and Dubur's father. The other priests present all looked up, their expressions varying from concern to anxiety.
"Father Phanuhel," Father Xavier began, his voice serious. "Thank you for coming. We have a serious matter to discuss."