~IslaI knelt down in front of the altar, the cold marble biting into my knees, but I didn’t shift. My hands were still wet from the water, my hair dripping down the back of my neck, but I didn’t care.I stayed there, bowed, because I had nowhere else to go.The priest was behind me, sitting in a wooden chair as though he had carried the weight of souls for a hundred years. His voice was steady, not soft, not cruel, simply firm, as though the words were carved into him long ago.“You’ve been saved, young woman. Go and live a holy life, kill no more,” he said, like it was an order, not a suggestion.I lifted my head slowly, wiping my eyes with the heel of my palm, though it did nothing. The tears kept coming anyway. My voice cracked when I asked, “Have I really been saved?” My throat burned, my face soaked with grief I couldn’t wash away.“Don’t doubt the power of the Most High,” he answered, his tone unshaken, like he had said these words a thousand times before. “I assure you that th
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