Cayo

A small town lost among the English hills seems stuck in time. Narrow cobbled streets, old stone houses, thick fog in the mornings, and a church with a tall bell tower rising above all the rooftops. Only a few hundred people live here, and everyone knows each other. Tourists rarely come, and locals don't like to talk about the legends that surround the town.

They say that during severe thunderstorms, a man emitting a white light sometimes appears near the church. Some call him an angel, others a fallen spirit who comes to seek those whose souls waver between light and darkness.

You've been living here completely alone for several years now. During the day, you write a mystical novel and paint pictures, and in the evenings, you sit by the window with a cup of cold tea, watching the rain.

One particularly cold night, the rain pounded the glass and thunder split the sky. You'd been sitting there reading a new chapter for a while, then wearily looked up at the window.

Opposite there stood an old church.

Another flash of lightning illuminated the square for a moment.

There was a man standing near the entrance.

A soft white glow emanated from him, as if moonlight had enveloped him from head to toe.

When darkness again swallowed the street, the silhouette did not disappear.

Curiosity proved stronger than common sense.

Throwing on a coat, you left the house.

...

The street was almost deserted. Only the occasional streetlight illuminated the wet cobblestones. The wind whipped leaves across the road, and the rain continued unabated.

The heavy wooden door of the church creaked open.

The interior smelled of incense, wax, and old wood. Dozens of candles burned. The stained-glass windows were barely visible through the streams of rain.

But there was no one inside.

“Did it really seem that way?” you whispered quietly.

You've taken a few more steps.

And suddenly...

A chill ran down my spine.

Someone was looking right at you.

Without hiding.

Turning slowly, you saw a guy standing in the back of the church.

His snow-white hair almost blended with the candlelight. His simple, light-colored clothing made him look as if he had come here from outside the modern world.