Second step

Godric didn't want to think about that. After his arrival he had fetched a reading from the archive that had piqued his interest. A story about his ancestor Amon. Because, contrary to all the holiness that this place radiated and for which he stood, was titled as a dark priest and the name Amon, which was a little divine name in the Bible, did not really improve the situation. Godric wanted to know the reason, had hoped for answers in the book, which had been written in some generation by a descendant of Amon. But he didn't get to read yet.

A sigh came from the priest's lips. "Lost ..." he mused about his situation. That was less holy, Godric had thought and laughed at himself. He was a great saint to get lost in his own monastery. Had that happened to one of his ancestors too? In any case, he didn't know anyone. If only he had taken a card or just asked the monk, whom he had seen two hours ago, but hadn't wanted to ask. These thoughts made him sigh again. He didn't really want to openly admit he was lost. In the first week he wished to do as little wrong as possible. Now he was in a somewhat urgent situation. He had inspected the monastery for a total of three hours, had been lost for two hours, and for an hour he had wondered whether he was not walking around circles all the time. Godric would have cursed if his self hadn't got in his way. Since his ordination as abbot he had forbidden it, but even before that he had rarely used it. Could it be because the abbot was not exactly pleased when Godric had used such words.

After all this walking, Godric discovered a staircase that led to a basement. He decided to take a moment to rest, as his feet were now quite cold and were starting to hurt. "Just a little rest, then I will surely have a clear head again and get out of my situation." Thought the stripped man and sank his eyelids, feeling how his limbs were grateful for the little rest. Exhausted, he leaned against the stone wall and closed his eyes completely. His breathing was calm and he seemed to relax. In that moment of calm, Godric felt incredibly comfortable. For a long time he wasn't as grateful for a little break as he is now. He briefly rubbed his bare feet together, then laid them on top of each other in the hope that it would be a little warmer. Because the corridor was outside and therefore open on one side. The night wind blew mercilessly into the passage. It was summer but only with a wall that went up to the waist and pillars, which connected the wall and ceiling, provided protection from the wind. Since the monastery was so high up on the mountain, even some summer nights were a bit cooler.

The blue strands swayed lightly in the summer wind and tickled the nose of the lost father who only made a tired sound. "Mhm ~" It was already late and even the recently sleepless Godric could not help but feel tired after a three-hour walk through the monastery in search of a familiar walk to get back to his own room. With his eyes closed and leaning comfortably against the wall, he would almost have fallen asleep if the candle hadn't woken him. Since the priest was in danger of falling asleep, he had held the candle in his hand slightly crooked. The wax, which previously ran on the small candle plate, was now distributed on the surface of the hand. Godric sat up with a jerk, was awakened again by the slight pain and was now holding the candle straight again. "Ouch ..." he mumbled and put the candle plate, including the candle, aside and began to scrape the wax from his hand. The skin underneath had turned slightly reddish, which made the father sigh briefly again. But he was neither angry nor upset. He took it on as a positive as the wax had saved him from not just falling asleep on the stairs.

The young priest gave in to the hearty yawn for a moment, then rose. He wanted to find a way back, at his young age, twenty-three in number, he had never dreamed of simply falling asleep like an old man. He wanted to turn away when suddenly something stopped him in his doing. His gaze followed the stairs that led to the basement. Underground cellar vaults which, to which the family archive belonged, extended far below the monastery. Godric paused and had his eyes fixed on the darkening path down. He hadn't thought that here too, in these abandoned rooms, a path would lead into the cellar vaults. A swallow broke the silence. Godric had the feeling that this path into the basement would grow in darkness. Of course he tried to convince himself that this could only come through the night. He was still on his feet here at times when every pious person was already deep asleep. But Godric was awake and stood on the first step, towards the dark cellar. As a small child he was scared, terrified. He could not even enter the family archives, since the prevailing darkness in the cellars drove his fear into his body. Each time the former abbot had the honor of finding the necessary documents in the sacred archives and attaching them to the instruction. Godric had always had a strange feeling when entering the basement. A feeling that gave him goose bumps. Did he believe that the darkness of the cellar itself slowly gripped his feet and slowly crept up the young body. He felt a cold in these rooms that he had never felt even in winter. Neither in the monastery nor in the place where he had completed his fifteen years of training. Only this cellar ... Godric had now returned as an honorable father and scribe. Had great knowledge of rites, magic, history. A steadfast man. But now, in the face of this cellar, there was nothing left of it. Again Godric felt this cold, this strange feeling rise within himself. As if it wanted to take over him and plunge his soul into blackness. Even during his lifetime, the abbot at the time had forbidden him to go to those basement rooms that were deserted. Those rooms around which wild stories entwined. Every monastery probably had a story like that, Godric thought at the time. Accursed, abandoned rooms. Ghost stories. Yet! Godric had done what the abbot had told him then. His fear of those rooms was even too great not to follow the instructions. But now, so many years later, Godric was standing at the entrance to those rooms that he had forgotten and was not supposed to enter as a child. Those rooms that gave him a shiver back then, those that still do it today. In the glow of the full moon, the grown-up Godric stood on the first step of the stairs that led into these rooms. He stood in the light while the glow of the full moon could not even reach the rest of the stairs. It was as if the darkness forbade the full moon to spread its light and to reveal that which was covered, even protected, by the darkness.

Godric stood spellbound on the stage that led to his childhood fears. Another swallow. His throat felt dry, as if the liquid hadn't moisturized his throat in ages. Moments passed, then he was startled, dropped the candle, which rolled down the stairs and came to a stop behind the arch of the cellar entrance. The flame had gone out and only the glow of the moon seemed to give Godric a little light.

A crow had ventured onto the old masonry and announced its presence. The young priest's heart had slipped into his black robe. He had expected everything at night, but not to get such a shock. How long had he stood there just to be so lost in his thoughts? Godric's gaze turned to the crow that hadn't moved and continued to look at the blue-haired man. Their eyes met. The crow's black eyes literally devoured the blue gaze. Godric didn't know why, but this bird, as small as it was, had something attractive to him. Still, Godric was unable to move. Just as if he were under the spell of the dark gaze. He widened his eyes as the crow spread its wings and broke the light of the moon, which even the deep black plumage could not illuminate. Another croak while Godric's gaze was drawn to the bird. As a child he had heard many stories about crows. In some biblical texts they were regarded as a harbinger and animal companion of the dark creatures. They cast a spell over people, only to pick their eyes out. This crow had risen, but not to take away the young priest's eyesight, but to fly towards the moon. When the proud animal had started its flight, black feathers, swaying gently in the wind, slowly fell to the ground. Godric had watched the crow, and stood there for a few moments, as if it had withdrawn from his field of vision. Only when a cool wind whirled up the feathers again did he seem to have come back to reality. The last witnesses to the animal visit had been blown away and left the bereaved behind.

After what felt like an eternity, Godric allowed himself a deep breath. He had the feeling that he hadn't breathed a breath in the whole time. He wanted to go back to his room as soon as possible, as this encounter still struck him as strange. His lost candlelight didn't make him feel better either. But he had to get it, the candle and the accompanying candle plate. Godric didn't want to leave them behind, even if they were just normal everyday objects. The pious father had learned not to waste anything. Another hard swallow came from him, but then he clenched his hands into fists. “I'm no longer a child ... The darkness cannot harm me. The light has gone out, but my master's light is with me! I don't need to be afraid of a cellar ”, Godric said to himself to give himself courage and remembered the trust in his master. To always have him by hand and not have to face every misfortune alone.

He took the second step.