The cobblestone path leading to the church was worn and uneven, a testament to the countless journeys made by the village's faithful. Leor walked silently, Fydo padding beside him. The dog's ears perked at every rustle of leaves and chirp of a bird, their senses keen to dangers, due to living a life filled with hardship… and sorrow.
Ahead, the simple stone church stood on a small rise overlooking the village, its weathered wooden door slightly ajar. Even so, the majesty of the Church was as bright as the sun. As Leor approached, the sound of hushed voices reached his ears, a faint melody carried on the breeze—a whisper of hope and solace. Flickering candlelight filtered through the narrow crack in the door, revealing a congregation huddled together in prayer. The sight quickened Leor's heart, the scene before him eerily familiar, like a half-forgotten memory from the monastery he grew up in.
He took a deep breath, the scent of incense and wood smoke filling his nostrils, comforting him. It incited nostalgia of the hidden monastery once again, of the prayers and the peace that once seemed so distant. For a moment, Leor was reminded that he wasn't alone in this fallen world—there were others here, seeking solace, facing their own demons. The thought gave him a brief sense of contentment. But a Hunter must never be content, otherwise lives could be lost.
Leor stepped into the church, the worn wooden floor creaking under his boots. Fydo, sensing his moment of hesitation, stayed close at his side, his tail thumping softly against the floor. As Leor moved further inside, the congregation turned to him, their eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and fear. Leor understood this, he was wearing a ragged cloak with even more worn clothes underneath, and of course, the sword at his waist was not very welcoming. An Elder of the Church, his face lined with age and wisdom, stepped forward, his deep amber eyes reflecting the candlelight as they met Leor's.
"Welcome, son," the priest said in a soft, calming voice. "I am Father Elric. Do you seek sanctuary or solace?"
Leor hesitated, yet his hand instinctively raised to grasp the cross around his neck- this was given to Leor by the Holy Men of the monastery where he was from. The priest's demeanor softened with understanding. "The Lord will guide you," he continued. "Come, join us in prayer."
The invitation hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Leor felt the pull, a desire to partake in the peace and strength that filled the room. Yet, he now had doubts. Was he deserving of this moment? His duty pressed heavily on him—he thought, "A warning must to be delivered, a message of urgency." However, Leor had placed a blessing around the town prior to entering, he was never top in his class when learning to bless things in the Hunter training camp, but it should last for a little while. This allowed Leor to rest easy for the time being.
Leor stepped back, carefully placing his weapons and bag against the wall near the entrance of the church. Fydo, sensing the shift in his mood, settled down beside his owner's belongings. "Fydo, stay here," Leor whispered, giving the dog a reassuring pat on the head. "Guard my things, and keep to yourself in case anyone has allergies." With a low growl, Fydo assumed a more relaxed stance; his body eased, yet still ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.
Turning to the priest, Leor's face was etched with fatigue. "Forgive me, Father," he said, his voice low and strained. "I have an urgent matter to discuss with you, but I would like to join the congregation for now. If you could spare me a few moments after the service, I would be very grateful."
The priest nodded, "Of course, my son." With that assurance, Leor joined the congregation, his heart heavy with the weight of his task. The familiar scent of incense and the low murmur of voices created a sense of tranquility, a haven amidst the storm raging within him.
As the priest began to recite the scriptures, Leor's troubled thoughts faded into the background. The words of faith washed over him, filling him with a renewed sense of strength and hope. The music of the hymns, carried on the gentle breeze, soothed his soul, reminding him of the unwavering power of their God. In this church, with its flickering candles and the sound of prayer, he found sanctuary—a place where his troubled spirit could rest. This is how he would rejuvenate himself after a long stretch of privation and precariousness. He learned this trick from an experienced Hunter who sometimes visits the training camp and has had to deal with the same things.
Leor felt connected to something larger, something that transcended the boundaries of fear and despair. The sensation of nostalgia returned, stronger this time. It wasn't the church itself that stirred this feeling, but the faces of the congregation, the way they bowed their heads in prayer, the way they sang, the way they held their hands in supplication.