CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1

EZRA

I wiped my hands down the side of my pants for the fifth time. They were still sweaty.

"You good?" Lily asked beside me, adjusting her mic.

"Yeah," I said. I wasn’t.

She gave me a look. The kind that meant, don’t lie to me.

I looked straight ahead instead.

The church was packed. It was always full on Sundays, but this felt worse. The air was warm, too many bodies pressed into the pews, the ceiling fans spinning slow. I hated how quiet everything got before we started. Like they were all waiting for me to mess up.

"It’s just one song," I said under my breath.

"It’s never just one song when you’re leading," Lily whispered back.

The choir director signaled us. I stepped forward and took the mic. My heart beat so hard I thought it might come through my chest.

I looked at the crucifix first. Not at the people.

Then I took a breath and started.

The first few words came out shaky, but I found the note. I stayed on it. The keyboard came in behind me. Then the rest of the choir. Harmony. Strong.

By the time we hit the second verse, I was okay.

Not great. But okay.

I didn’t look at the crowd. I couldn’t. I just kept going. Verse to chorus. I knew the lyrics by heart. They sat in the back of my mind like a safety net.

My voice didn’t crack. That was something.

Lily’s voice came up behind me, steady and smooth. She always held the line when I felt like I was losing it. I leaned on her, even when she didn’t know.

We reached the bridge. My chest ached, but I pushed. Held the note longer than I’d practiced.

Someone clapped too early. I smiled at that. Just a little.

The last chorus hit. I let go of everything and just sang. My voice stretched, filled the room. I felt it in my ribs. My throat. My hands.

Then it ended.

Silence.

Then a wave of clapping. Louder this time. Not too much—it was still a church—but enough to feel it.

I stepped back, heart pounding. My hand shook a little as I passed the mic off.

Lily grinned at me. "That was good."

"I couldn’t breathe."

"You didn’t look like you were dying, so."

We walked back to our spot on the left side of the altar, behind the pulpit. The choir sat together in a neat row, robes rustling against wood.

The priest came up to the mic.

"Let us thank the choir for that beautiful worship. May God continue to bless you."

"Amen," the church replied.

I sank into my seat. Tried not to fidget. My shirt clung to my back. I wiped my palms on my robe again.

Lily leaned in. "You good now?"

"Better."

"You’re gonna get sick if you keep fasting before every Sunday."

"It’s not a fast. I just didn’t eat."

"Right. Because that’s different."

I sighed. She gave me a bottle of water. I drank half of it in one go.

The Mass continued. Readings. Responsorial Psalm. Another song. Not mine this time.

I let myself breathe. Let my heart come down from the high.

Father Jude stood to give the Gospel. He was older, slower in his movements, but strong behind the mic.

Everyone stood as he opened the Bible.

He read from the Book of Matthew. I only half-heard it. My thoughts kept drifting. I stared at the stained-glass window above the altar.

Colors shifted with the light. Red, blue, gold. I used to think the saints in the glass looked down on us. Now I just looked at them when I couldn’t look at anything else.

The reading ended. We sat.

The old priest adjusted his glasses and stepped up to the center.

"Today’s reading speaks to obedience. Not just to the rules, but to the spirit behind them..."

I shifted in my seat.

Lily tapped her fingers on her knee like she always did when she was bored.

I whispered, "Don’t fall asleep."

"You first."

I smiled.

"Pay attention, you two," the choir director whispered sharply.

We both straightened like we’d been slapped.

The priest kept going. His voice slow. Careful.

I stopped listening again.

My head felt light. My body tired. I closed my eyes for a second. Just one second.

I thought about my mom again. She used to sing the loudest in Mass. Embarrassingly loud. Said God didn’t care if she was off-key.

I missed her more on Sundays.

The sermon kept going. Something about how obedience wasn’t fear. How it was love.

“Before we move into the homily,” he said, “I have an announcement.”

I glanced at Lily.

She raised her brows. “What now?”

The priest smiled like he was about to drop a bomb. “As many of you know, we’ve been praying for growth in our ministry. God has answered.”

Someone in the front pew said, “Amen.”

He kept going. “We’ve been blessed with a new spiritual leader who will be joining us for this season. Someone who comes with not only knowledge of the Word, but a strong anointing. He’s served abroad. He’s worked with the sick. He’s led revivals. There are stories—real stories—of healing and restoration tied to this man’s ministry.”

People started murmuring. Some clapped. One of the older women shouted, “Glory!”

I leaned forward a little.

Lily whispered, “What’s he talking about? Who?”

The priest raised his hand to settle the noise. “He is known to many, but for those of you meeting him for the first time, I pray your heart is open. He’s a vessel. A man after God’s own heart. And we are so honored to have him here.”

I looked toward the side doors.

Someone opened them from the inside.

And then he walked in.

The clapping started slow. Then it built. People leaned to whisper. A few women in the second row literally stood up. Someone gasped, loud enough for it to echo.

I didn’t move.

I couldn’t.

He was… tall. Broad-shouldered. His black priest robe fit like it was tailored. Not loose like most priests wore. Clean collar. Clean lines. But it wasn’t his clothes that made my heart slam.

It was his face.

Strong jaw. Serious mouth. Eyes that didn’t smile. He looked like a statue. Or a man carved out of stone. Sharp. Too sharp.

He climbed the steps to the altar with slow, deliberate steps. 

Lily whispered, “Jesus Christ.”

I blinked. “That’s a priest?”

He reached the pulpit.

The older priest handed him the mic. “Please, Father, introduce yourself.”

His voice was low. Clear. Not loud, but it cut through everything.

“My name is Father Dorian Vale.”

The church went still.

He scanned the room. His gaze passed over everyone. But when it landed back on me, it stopped.

Something inside me sank.

I dropped my eyes.

I couldn’t explain it, but something about him made me feel… seen. Exposed. Like he knew every thought I wasn’t supposed to be thinking.

“Thank you for welcoming me,” he said. “I don’t believe in taking up space I haven’t earned, so I’ll let the Word speak for itself today. But I’m grateful to be here.”

He stepped back. No smile this time.

Just a nod.

He opened his Bible.

But my mind wasn’t on the message anymore.

It was still trying to make sense of the man standing three feet away.

The new priest.

Father Dorian Vale.