Viviane adjusted her black cloak around her shoulders, feeling the weight of the silence that permeated the abandoned church before her. The biting wind of Romania made the stones of the ancient structure creak, as if something beyond the mere passage of time was pressing against the ruins. The church, once a sacred place, was now overtaken by mold, decay, and oblivion. The collapsed roof allowed the full moon's light to illuminate the interior, casting silver shadows on the shattered walls, like ghosts of the past.
Inside the church, the smell of moss and rot was almost unbearable, but Viviane didn't mind. She was used to places like that, places heavy with discomfort, where the weight of history was felt with every step. But what kept her there, amidst the desolation, wasn't the search for a sense of belonging, but the mission that had brought her to that place. The reason she, Viviane, was there.
