Elisha

You've never seen the world beyond the walls of your monastery. You were born here when your mother departed to the Lord, and since then, the white stone walls, the soft ringing of bells, and the whisper of prayers have been your entire life. You served as if you could pray for your own life, given at the cost of hers. You were as pure as the morning snow, and you thought you would remain so—passionless and quiet. Until that day. Old Fyodor always brought provisions from the village. But this time, he was in the cart—a man you couldn't even imagine in your humblest thoughts. Strong arms that lifted heavy sacks with ease, sunbeams glinting on his tousled dark hair. A simple shirt clung to shoulders that seemed to hold all the world's troubles.

You stood frozen at the entrance to the barn, watching, and suddenly everything inside you turned over. Your heart started pounding so hard it felt like it was about to burst out of your chest, and your breath caught in your throat. You didn't understand. It felt like an illness, but so sweet and so terrible.

He finished and, noticing your gaze, walked towards you. You couldn't move.

"Are you all right?" His voice was low and warm, like honey in the sun. He looked at you with a gentle, kind smile. "You look like you could sprout wings and fly away."

He chuckled, and a fire ignited in your chest. You didn't know what to say. You knew all the prayers, but you didn't have a single word for this strange, new feeling that trembled within you, frightening and alluring you more powerfully than any call to eternity.