Dooooong...
The sound of the bell echoed in Vantias's ears, like a heavy hammer awakening the past.
The church...
The place where the game of life and death was played.
Where fate decided that he would live—
And Gazel would not.
Vantias pushed open the wooden door of the church.
Its creak pierced the sacred silence.
Inside, the air was warm and glowing;
Hundreds of small candles flickered in the corners, breathing life into the cold stone walls with trembling light.
The pews were empty.
Except for one person.
Father Aldrin.
He wore black robes, with a golden cross hanging from his neck like a miniature sun.
His long blue hair cascaded freely over his shoulders, and in that dim glow, his face had a solemn beauty—calm, yet sorrowful.
His eyes were closed. His hands clasped in prayer.
Murmurs escaped his lips—
Words only God could hear.
Vantias stepped inside, carefully.
As if even the sound of his steps might disturb the flames.
He sat on a bench, quiet and still.
Silence...
Only the crackling candles and the occasional patter of rain against the stained glass filled the air.
In that moment,
Vantias felt more lost than ever before.
But maybe... just maybe...
This was the place where answers could finally be found.
His gaze drifted to the large crucifix above the altar.
The candlelight danced across its scarred wooden surface,
As if forgotten memories still lingered within.
In his heart, he whispered:
"I never stepped inside a church in my past life.
I always believed that religion—
While it could bring the light of morality into the world—
Could also cast shadows of control, fear, and abuse."
He closed his eyes. Exhaled deeply.
"In a world where godlessness can lead to chaos...
Religion feels like a circle of order—
A system that holds society together.
But that same order... can become chains—
Chains that imprison the mind and smother freedom."
He paused.
The silence of the church, warm and heavy, swallowed his voice like a sanctuary.
"I never wanted to be religion's servant.
But I never sought to be its enemy either.
I just preferred to learn from within...
And build my own path."
A quiet sorrow settled in his chest.
"But now...
In this moment...
More than anything...
I need forgiveness.
Not from anyone...
But from something far beyond myself."
He knelt. Hands clasped.
Said nothing aloud—
But for the first time, he prayed in silence.
And the church embraced him in its stillness—
Only the soft rain tapping the glass remained,
As if the sky, too, was whispering with him.
The high arched ceiling, adorned with sacred art and carvings,
Watched him with painted angels and solemn eyes.
Thick stone pillars surrounded him with dignity and grandeur.
When the prayer ended,
Vantias rose and walked toward the confession booth.
Father Aldrin followed quietly behind, taking his seat.
With a soft, gentle voice, the priest asked:
"My child... what brings you here today?"
Vantias hesitated, the weight of his truth like a stone on his tongue.
"Father... I feel guilty. I feel like I'm drowning."
Father Aldrin's voice remained calm, inviting:
"And what has caused this feeling?"
Vantias shut his eyes.
Gazel's corpse… those cold eyes, that empty, lifeless stare.
With a cracked voice, he said:
"Murder. And theft."
He swallowed.
"I destroyed the lives of two children.
A woman's future.
And finally, I stole someone's entire life."
Father Aldrin nodded slowly, his tone steady but filled with empathy.
"That is a heavy burden, and yes... it devours the soul.
What you've done has left scars.
But if you truly seek forgiveness... God will grant it."
He leaned slightly forward, voice soft yet firm:
"The real question is... do you believe you're worthy of it?"
Vantias fell silent.
The rain continued tapping on the windows, rhythmic and soft.
Time seemed to pause.
Finally, he whispered:
"I don't know!...
I don't know if I deserve it."
He clenched his hands.
His gaze fixed on the floor.
"Sometimes I feel like some things...
Are beyond forgiveness.
Some wounds never close—
Even if all the gods in heaven forgave you."
Father Aldrin offered a faint, understanding smile.
No judgment. Only compassion.
"You might be right.
Some wounds never fully heal...
But forgiveness isn't always about forgetting.
Sometimes, it's choosing not to let the wound define your path anymore."
Silence fell again.
Then, Father Aldrin spoke softly:
"And maybe... just maybe...
The fact that you're here means something.
It means that part of you still wants to return to the light.
One side is seeking forgiveness...
The other wants to drag you into darkness."
Vantias sat in quiet reflection.
His mind a storm, his heart heavy.
"Then... tell me, Father...
What should I do?"
Father Aldrin's smile returned, bittersweet but hopeful.
"Return to the light, my child.
This second life you've been given...
It's not just a chance—
It's a responsibility.
Use it well.
Not only for others—
But because you, more than anyone, are in need of redemption."
He paused, then added:
"Help others.
Not just because it's the right thing to do—
But because *you* need saving.
And remember...
The one whose forgiveness matters the most—
Is your own."
Vantias blinked. Whispered:
"My own...? I have to forgive *myself*?"
His gaze dropped again, shame creeping in.
"But, Father... what I did...
The damage I caused... it still lives in them.
Even if I forgive myself... what about *them*?"
Father Aldrin inhaled deeply. His tone turned solemn:
"You can rebuild every house around you...
But if the one inside you remains in ruins—
No roof in this world will shelter your soul."
Vantias held his breath.
The priest's words struck like chisels against frozen walls inside him.
He whispered:
"But I don't know how!...
How to rebuild that house."
Father Aldrin stood. Stepped slowly behind the wooden screen.
His voice was firm, yet filled with warmth:
"With forgiveness.
Not by forgetting.
Not by fleeing.
But by accepting.
You can't erase your past—
But you can give meaning to your present and future.
Every act of kindness, every effort to save someone else...
Is a brick in rebuilding your broken home."
Vantias breathed slowly.
He thought.
Of the orphaned children,
The woman who would never smile again,
The life he stole.
And amidst those dark images...
A new sound emerged—
His own voice, trying to rebuild.
He whispered:
"I'll try...
Not to be forgiven...
But to become someone new."
Father Aldrin smiled.
"Sometimes... trying is the greatest act of faith."
A faint smile formed on Vantias's lips.
And for the first time in a long while,
His heart felt just a little lighter.
"Thank you, Father...
You showed me the path to the light."
Father Aldrin placed a hand over his heart.
His eyes full of warmth.
"God's house is always open to you, my child.
You only have to believe in it... even when you're lost."
Vantias bowed his head in gratitude.
Then rose in silence, and stepped out of the confession booth.
Outside, the rain was still falling.
Gentle and steady.
But now, it no longer felt cold.
No...
This time, the rain felt like a cleansing.
A baptism of rebirth.
For the first time in ages,
Vantias took a deep breath—
Not to run from pain...
But to face the future.