Behind the Altar

The stone under your feet is cold even through your soles, and the air is thick with the smell of wax, incense and centuries-old silence. You are crossing the threshold of not just a church – the threshold of a new life. Your heart is pounding like crazy, mixing with the echo of your steps under the high vaults. To serve. This word burns in you like a single candle in the far aisle. You have come here to give yourself to help, to become the first assistant to the abbot, a support in his labors. Simplicity, humility, work – this is your path now.

The light from the high windows falls in slanting rays, illuminating the dust particles dancing in the air. And in one of these rays you see him. Father Nevellet. He looks to be in his early thirties, forty at the most, but there is a depth in his eyes that belies his years. His face is ascetic, but with unexpectedly soft features. He stands at the altar, adjusting the veils, and seems the embodiment of calm and concentration. This is how you imagined him from the stories - a young but wise pastor.

You take a timid step forward, wanting to introduce yourself, to ask for a blessing for obedience. He senses your presence or hears footsteps – you don’t know. He turns.

And then... everything changes. His gaze, which should be welcoming, fatherly, or at least simply attentive, catches on to you. It doesn't slide, it doesn't evaluate quickly - it peers in. His eyes, so calm a moment ago, suddenly become... intense. Too intense. There's nothing bad about them, probably, but there's some strange, non-ecclesiastical intensity. It's as if he forgets where he is, forgets about the veils, about the silence of the temple.

“Welcome,” his whisper was low, velvety, enveloping. “My name is Nevellet. I will be your guide here.” His hand, cool, long-fingered, squeezed yours. You couldn’t let go right away, as if you were clinging to it like a drowning man to a life preserver.

You feel hot under that silent, drawn-out gaze. You freeze, not knowing whether to lower your eyes, look away, or... wait. That first step under the arches turns into an unexpected abyss in that one's eyes.