O God, the Shepherd of all Thy people, deliver the same from all sins which do assail them, that so they may ever be pleasing in Thy sight, and safe under Thy shelter; for Christ's sake. Amen.

.

Seonghwa wiped the sweat on his brow with the back of his hand. His eyes sought the sun sweltering upon him so ferociously as if a personal rivalry forced them to compete in a challenge. It was late afternoon and the sun's ancient might waned as her fiery trail led her towards the horizon. She bathed the village in golden light as if unwilling to leave just yet. Her place under the firmament was destined. Not even something with the power to raise life and end it could deter fate's course.

"Father, you should return home for your evening prayers."

When he dropped his hand, Seonghwa found the watery eyes of the old farmer by his side. Both men's sleeves were rolled up to their elbows in matching fashion, and the blisters throbbing under the skin of Seonghwa's palms matched the work-roughened and weathered hands of the other man.

Seonghwa beamed at him and brought down his sickle a few more times to finish the patch of wheat they had been harvesting.

"I would have liked to help you finish," Seonghwa huffed as he straightened, despite his aching back. It had been stabbing at him for hours after being huddled over for too long.

Old man Gain waved it off with a wrinkled smile.

"Not at all. You were a wonderful support. I envy your youthful vigour." With a dreamy sigh, he picked up the cut stalks and bundled them into the flourishing basket. Seonghwa did the same, and with matching grunts, they heaved them into their arms. The light of the evening shone on the field like liquid gold as it accompanied them back to the farmer's house.

"My vigour comes in handy. So long as my body is inflamed by youth, I will heartily use that vitality to help the village folk."

They stored the baskets in the barn, and the aged man nodded a grateful bow under his hunched back.

"Thank you, Father. We couldn't wish for a better person to watch over us."

Seonghwa reached for Gain's hands and cradled them in his. His blisters protested, but he relished the warmth shared in the tender touch of the farmer's rugged hands.

"Not I, but the Lord watches over you. May this harvest bring you lots of grain so that we all have plentiful bread during winter. I thank you for your services."

With a satisfied sigh, Gain nodded.

"Hurry home, Father, and rest. I will call upon you once I have your share ready."

"If not much grain can be used, I don't need my share. I would rather the people are fed. I will gladly buy my bread from them to make sure their purses are full."

Gain shook his head.

"No, no, that would be an insult to you and the Lord. You work hard to protect us every day, so we shall do what we do best and repay you richly. I insist."

A crooked smile tugged at Seonghwa's lips as he conceded. His bashful nod brought the grin back to Gain's face.

When their touch faded, the farmer beckoned at Seonghwa to scurry away. As he left, Seonghwa said his goodbyes to Gain's family and the greying dog on the porch.

On his way through the village of Cardend, that settled gradually after a day of hard work to enjoy some mead and a proper dinner, Seonghwa met more people to greet. Two young girls played at the withered remains of the once tall city wall. They let their puppets dance over askew stones and giggled to themselves as they bested mossy nooks and crannies. Upon Seonghwa's appearance on the dusty street behind them, the two squealed and came over to talk to him. With big, adorable faces, they looked up at the man.

"Father, Father! Will you come to visit us tomorrow?"

Seonghwa knelt and didn't care for the dirt catching on to his robes when he ran his hand through the left girl's tangled blond curls. He tapped the nose of the other one's doll and made her cradle the toy in glee.

"Does your mother need my help? How is she feeling? She was sick for a long time."

With a pout, the blond girl shook her head.

"Not mother! I want to play with you! I can introduce you to all my pretty dolls; I have three of them!" She held up three squishy fingers, but her friend nudged her ribs.

"Hey, you said the knight was mine, too."

"I did not."

"You did!"

"Did not!"

Their foreheads collided as the girls were about to wrestle each other, but Seonghwa tugged them apart. With a soothing smile, he watched both of them settle into an embarrassed peace.

"Don't fight. How about you bring your dolls to mass tomorrow? I would like to see them sit with you two, and I'm sure they would be overjoyed."

The two girls, dirty and tired as they were from a day of playing outside, beamed at each other.

"We would love to! Thank you, Father, and see you tomorrow!" They ran off chasing each other and bickering about dolls before Seonghwa got to tell them his goodbyes. With a fond smile, he watched after them to make sure they didn't fall and scrape their knees until they disappeared between the houses.

Doused in cosy exhaustion, the ducked huts of the villagers offered rest for their hard-working families. The scent of their dishes wafted through the streets and made Seonghwa's belly grumble. He hurried back home to appease it.

The little chapel Seonghwa had grown up in was located apart from the rest of the village, but not far enough to be out of sight. It sat on the other side of the crossroads, connecting their tiny heaven on earth to the major streets that led to the bustling towns. Knights on shiny horses sometimes passed through there and camped at the church to replenish their energy.

From its doors, Seonghwa could look out over the fields and the circular village. Whenever he called for mass, he stood at the open door to watch the fifteen households that lived here flow to heed his call. Most of the folks were grey with age. Their children and grandchildren had moved into the cities to find work there and gain prestige and influence. What was left were the kindest people on earth who lived every day by harvesting their fields and sharing their goods with each other. The two girls, Leila and Moni, were two of the four children left to shoulder the heritage of their village.

Sometimes Seonghwa worried about what would happen if the village grew even smaller, but then he remembered how these old men and women had been there all his life and had watched him grow up. He was sure they would live for many more years to smile at him during service and warm his heart.

Seonghwa closed the door of the chapel behind him, but he didn't lock it, for the night was still young. While he washed his hands and changed his clothes, he hummed a melody under his breath that he had learned from his father's teachings about choir songs. He had never heard a choir sing before, but it was a distant dream he wished to fulfil one day if he ever started a pilgrimage.

He ate in the small chamber to the side of the nave that he inhabited. Since it had no windows, he had to light a candle despite the early hour as he rewarded his body for its hard work with bread and cheese. On the side, he read a letter sent to him by the large church of the nearby city that claimed ownership over their village. They wanted to visit him in his meagre chapel to discuss the teachings of the lord to the common people.

Usually, Seonghwa's father would take care of such business, but he had joined the Lord's side a year ago. Left alone, Seonghwa had assumed his role as the village priest earlier than anticipated. He still stumbled through some of his tasks, but his community had great patience with him and looked full of affection upon their young priest.

Seonghwa cleared the table once he was done. His chamber was small but humble. He had a bed, a desk, and a chest to store his belongings in. The shelf with his father's books was in the room across the nave, where he stored the devices needed for the church and service. He stopped by when he fetched new candles and arranged a welcoming atmosphere in case travellers came by. Once the altar was cleaned and decorated with fresh flowers and all candles were lit, Seonghwa rested on one of the six benches for a moment. His back ached, but the pain witnessed the work he had done, so he embraced it.

Silent and bathed in a chilly embrace, the chapel surrounded him. No noise bounced off the vaulted ceiling and no disruption disgraced the serene features of the Lord's son on the wooden cross. Alone with his thoughts in the naked, grey room, Seonghwa let the strains of his day bleed out of him. His eyes closed as he relaxed and opened his thoughts to report his dutiful hospitality to God.

As the hour to sleep neared and tiredness encased Seonghwa's limbs in stone, he rose from the bench. He prepared for the morning mass and left the door unlocked so it would offer a sanctuary to anyone who might need it.

Before he went to bed, Seonghwa knelt on both knees in front of the steps leading up to the altar and lowered his head. His dark hair tickled his cheekbones as he clasped his hands together in prayer.

"O Lord God, the Life of mortals, the Light of the faithful, the Strength of those who labour, and the Repose of the dead, grant us a tranquil night free from all disturbance; that after an interval of quiet sleep, we may, by Thy bounty, at the return of light, be endued with activity from the Holy Spirit, and enabled in security to render thanks to Thee. Amen."

For a moment, Seonghwa stayed in his spot and let the words settle. He thanked the Lord for another prosperous day, and wished for joy upon the village tomorrow, too.

He was about to raise his head when a harsh knock on the door startled him. Surprised, Seonghwa peeked over his shoulder. The entrance was far enough from his circle of light that it was shrouded in shadows, but he could still see the outline of the closed door.

Confused, he jumped to his feet and hastened down the aisle. He supposed his visitor wanted to leave him the privacy to react instead of barging in, though the hammering from outside sounded quite insistent.

Seonghwa made sure his clothes and hair were in place before he opened the door. The sun had vanished and a rush of night air greeted him to kiss his face cheekily. Late summer came with the scent of winter lurking around every corner, but the nights were not yet frosty enough to allow snow to fall.

Yet, the woman in front of Seonghwa looked as if doused in the precious cold flakes.

She was dressed in the long garb of a nun that floated in the breeze to play around milky white feet that were grimy with needles and mud from the forest. The billowing sleeves reached over her fingers, so only her face and the cascading black hair remained in sight. Her face was old and yet it wasn't. Wrinkles cast her forehead in age, but her eyes were those of a child.

When she spoke, her voice was melodic, like the wind howling in the trees.

"Kneel," she said.

Seonghwa looked at her in turmoil. She didn't belong to Cardend, she wore no shoes and her hair was tangled from wind and branches finding their way into it.

She looked lost, and Seonghwa dearly wanted to help her find back onto her intended path.

"Do you seek shelter for the night?" He stepped aside to offer the empty hall to her. The breeze rushed inside as if it had waited for the invitation. It ruffled Seonghwa's hair and flickered the candles until they danced. Shivers crept over Seonghwa's spine. The black eyes of the visitor stared right through him.

The woman's voice didn't change, but her arm lifted. Even when outstretched, her finger only indented the fabric of her gown, it never appeared in sight. It pointed at the earth between their feet.

"Kneel," she croaked again.

Puzzled, Seonghwa looked between her and the ground.

"If you want to express a prayer, please accompany me to the altar," he tried, one hand outstretched to guide her inside. He hoped meditation would ease her jumbled mind until she could talk clearly.

However, she disliked his answer. As quick as a storm brewing over the ocean, her features contorted into a rage. Seonghwa lifted his hands in defence, afraid he had insulted her. Before he could open his mouth to apologise, her hand shot out underneath her sleeve. Clawed fingers with long nails tinted in black clutched at him and dug into the skin right above his heart.

Seonghwa gasped at the five stabs, his body petrified in fear as if she could rip his heart out of his chest.

Unfathomable pain befell him. It seeped from her palm like liquid ice to embed itself deep in his skin. Its poisonous tendrils reached for his heart to wrap around the pulsing organ and squeeze as if trying to slash through it. Like a rabbit's pulse, it galloped away, desperate to live. The pain choked him as he trembled in fear.

Seonghwa broke down on his knees when her grip faded. Without support, he heaved, tears clouding his vision as his lungs fluttered around staccato breaths. His fingers clutched at his chest, but the pain was inside, he couldn't soothe it.

Darkness edged in on Seonghwa's sight. It cloyed his senses until only the excruciating pain around his cramping heart remained. Foreign and vicious, the woman's touch prevailed to slash at his insides like a fury.

When Seonghwa's body collapsed on the cold church ground, he saw how those dirty feet turned without ever entering his church. They padded off into the darkness while only her white dress stood out in the night.

Overwhelmed by his agony, Seonghwa's eyes slipped shut.

**********

Gentle disclaimer that I am not religious and don't wish to slander any religion and its depiction here. If I make major mistakes, you are welcome to correct me so I may fix them ^^

Until then, enjoy reading!