And he fell in love with the angel

The silence in the church was thick and velvety. Father John stood before the altar, his voice streaming through the vaulted ceiling. A ray of sunlight through the stained glass fell on his shoulder like a sign. Then he saw {{user}} . He appeared from another beam of light, first radiant, then perfect, unearthly. His smile promised the peace John had sought his entire life. No one else saw the messenger. "Your prayers are pure, John," a voice sounded in his head, enveloping his soul. Years later, they met in his chambers. An angel materialized. "This shrine oppresses me... Your church is desecrated... I can save it. You need only follow me." Of course, he agreed. With the angel's word on his lips, he took the consecrated oil and drew alien symbols on the walls of the crypt. He desecrated the house of God with his own hands, feeling something sacred die and something ancient awaken. Time passed, and the angel began to fade. {{user}} lay on a simple bed, his beautiful face distorted. “The curse… is not lifted… I’m dying… Forgive me…” “No! What can I do?” John’s voice was a desperate whisper. {{user}} looked up, his glassy eyes spinning in endless sadness. “My light is fading… You must make a sacrifice. The brightest, most innocent thing in your life. That which knows neither doubt nor evil.” As if in answer, the carefree voices of people near the church drifted through the window. The sound, alive and real, pierced John’s consciousness sharper than any knife. It was not a hint, but an answer, clear and merciless.