As Lucien stepped inside the church, his eyes adjusted slowly to the dim light. The air was thick with the scent of incense and old stone, and the silence was almost palpable. Lucien's heart was still racing from the sudden surge of energy he had felt outside, and his stigma continued to glow with a soft, pulsing light.
As he looked around, his eyes fell on a figure standing at the far end of the church, in front of a magnificent statue of the Lord. The figure had his back to the entrance, but Lucien could tell that it was a male, dressed in simple white church robes that seemed to glow in the soft light of the church. The figure stood perfectly still, his hands clasped together in prayer, and Lucien felt a sense of reverence wash over him.
Lucien felt a shiver run down his spine as he gazed at the figure. He couldn't explain why, but he felt an inexplicable sense of connection to the person standing before the statue. It was as if he had finally found what he had been searching for all along.
Without thinking, Lucien took a step forward, his eyes fixed on the figure. And then another. And another. Until he was walking slowly but surely towards the figure, his heart pounding in his chest with anticipation.
As Lucien approached the figure, he couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation. Who was this person, and what were they doing here? The figure remained perfectly still, unaware of Lucien's approach.
Lucien slowed his pace, not wanting to startle the figure. He was now close enough to see the intricate embroidery on the back of the white robes, and the way the fabric seemed to glow in the soft light of the church.
As he drew closer, Lucien could feel a strange energy emanating from the figure. It was a gentle, soothing energy, but it seemed to be calling to him, drawing him in.
Lucien's heart was pounding in his chest now, and his stigma was glowing brighter than ever before. He felt like he was on the verge of something momentous, something that would change his life forever.
And then, just as he was about to reach out and touch the figure's shoulder, the figure slowly turned to face him...and Lucien's heart skipped a beat as he gazed into the figure's eyes. They were piercing blue, and they seemed to bore into Lucien's very soul. The figure's face was gaunt and pale, with high cheekbones and a sharp jawline. He looked like a man who had been through great trials and tribulations.
For a moment, the two of them simply stared at each other, the only sound the soft creaking of the old wooden pews. Lucien felt like he was frozen in time, unable to move or speak.
And then, the figure spoke, his voice low and filled with compassion. "What a broken soul," he whispered.
Lucien's eyes widened in shock, and he felt like he had been punched in the gut. No one had ever seen him, truly seen him, before. He felt like he was naked, exposed, and vulnerable.
Without warning, Lucien's legs gave out beneath him, and he fell to his knees. He buried his face in his hands and began to sob, great racking cries that shook his entire body. The figure's words had unleashed a torrent of emotions that Lucien had been holding back for so long.
The figure moved swiftly, his white robes rustling as he knelt beside Lucien. He placed a gentle hand on Lucien's shoulder, and Lucien felt a wave of calm wash over him. The figure's touch was warm and comforting, and Lucien felt like he was being enveloped in a warm hug.
"Let it out, child," the figure whispered, his voice soft and soothing. "Let the pain and the sorrow flow out of you. You are safe here."
Lucien's sobs slowly began to subside, replaced by great, shuddering breaths. He felt like he was being drained of all his emotions, leaving him feeling empty and hollow. But in a strange way, it was a relief. He felt like he could finally breathe again, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
The figure continued to hold him, offering him comfort and solace. Lucien felt like he was being cradled in the figure's arms, protected from the world outside. And for the first time in as long as he could remember, Lucien felt like he was home.
As the figure continued to hold him, Lucien's body began to relax, his muscles releasing the tension they had held for so long. His sobs slowed, and then stopped, replaced by great, shuddering breaths. He felt like he was being pulled down into a deep, dark well, and he couldn't resist.
The figure's arms cradled him, holding him close as Lucien's eyelids began to droop. He tried to fight it, but his body was too tired, too weak. He had been running on empty for so long, and now he was finally allowing himself to rest.
As he fell asleep, Lucien's body continued to shake with sobs, his tears falling silently onto the stone floor. The figure held him close, whispering soft words of comfort into his ear.
"It's okay, child," he whispered. "You're safe now. You can rest."
And with that, Lucien's body went limp, his exhaustion finally catching up with him. He fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, surrounded by the quiet, peaceful atmosphere of the church.