The day everything began was as ordinary as any other. Nothing had foretoldthe arrival of the One whose name had been whispered in fear for centuries. Yet,as the sun began to dip toward the west, the medieval abbey perched on the rockyisle of Mont-Saint-Michel – located off the southwestern coast of Normandy,France, along the English Channel – seemed to hold its breath. Surrounded bytreacherous tides, it stood like a stone sentinel, diligently guarding the secretshidden behind its high walls. Along one of the narrow, cobbled streets stooda tiny shop – modest, yet full of warmth. The scent of wax, lavender, and incensedrifted from its doorway, luring visitors with a fragrance that had filled the areafor countless generations. Locals frequented the place with particular fondness,for it had belonged to women of a single lineage for centuries: a line of herbalistsand, as the villagers said, healers. Twenty-five-year-old Aurora, granddaughter ofthe current owner, was just finishing her work. The wooden shutters she closedmuted the last rays of sunlight touching the glass. Her reverie was broken by thetall, resonant sound of the slowly sliding front door.

     – I’ve been calling you for a minute – greeted her with a smile Pierre Dumont,the abbey’s prior.

     – I’m sorry, I was lost in thought – she replied, slightly blushing.

     – Ah, it’s all right, it’s all right, nothing happened – he reassured her. – I’m justshowing the new colleague around, who will be staying with us for a while. Aurora,this is Father Emilio Rinaldi. He came to us straight from the Vatican… Wheredid he go?

Looking around, he noticed Aurora peering into the shop she had just closed

     – Is that him? – she asked, pointing toward the stranger with her eyes.

     Emilio, captivated by the interior scented with honeyed wax, dried herbs, andincense smoke, walked slowly among the shelves stacked to the ceiling. He mar-veled at the hand-poured candles, jars of essential oils, and vials filled with variousmacerations. Most of all, his attention was drawn to the wax sculptures – eachone depicting something different. So absorbed in the beautiful craftsmanship,he didn’t notice the hanging bouquets of lavender, wormwood, and verbena dan-gling from the ceiling, which he brushed against with his head. As he bent down,a high-pitched jingle from a bell above the door reached his ears. Aurora, releasingthe cold metal handle, almost immediately focused her gaze on the young, slenderman, nearly a head taller than her. His curly, untidily arranged chestnut hair fellbelow his eyebrows, effectively hiding his eyes. Just as she hoped to catch a glimpseof them, he swiftly turned his head in the opposite direction.

     – Who are you? – she whispered, taking a deep breath.

     The moment she exhaled, the candle right before her went out. The others, stillflickering, cast only a faint light across the shop’s interior. Emilio stood by the lastcandle. Aurora watched him carefully. His delicately defined jaw and pale, almosttranslucent skin seemed too ghostly in the warm light of the dying flame. Thenshe felt something. Something stirring within her body. Some long-dormant con-sciousness. Or rather, a fragment of it. Eyes wandering over the candles, she hast-ily closed them. For the first time in her life, panic overwhelmed her. As she triedto draw a breath, it felt thickened. Cut off from oxygen, she feverishly opened hereyes. Doing so – she froze, for Emilio, like a hawk, was staring at her. Nervouslygasping for air, she watched in silence as two fingers of his right hand extinguishedthe last candle flame. It was over. In the thick darkness, she once again felt some-thing moving within her – awakening. The last thing she remembered was thevelvet touch of a cassock black as pitch.

     – Doctor! Doctor! She’s awake! – shouted three women who hadn’t left Auro-ra’s side for a step at the hospital bed.

     – How are you feeling? – asked the doctor, approaching her.

     – What happened? – she asked, trying to sit up.

     – No sudden movements, please stay lying down – the doctor ordered sharply.

     – You fainted – her grandmother replied, her voice trembling with concern

     – Water. I want to drink water – she requested.

     – I’ll help you, wait – said Aurora’s mother, quickly coming to her side.

     – All right – said the doctor once she drank. – Now, please tell me what youremember as the last event before fainting.

     – I remember being in the shop. I was closing it when Prior Dumont camewith… – unable to recall the priest’s name, she closed her eyes. – Unfortunately,I don’t remember the name of the man he was with.

    – It’s nothing. The important thing is that you remember the last few hours.This allows us to rule out any neurological changes – he explained, typing some-thing into her patient chart.

     – Can I go home now? – she asked hesitantly.

     – Yes. I’ll just prepare the discharge papers.

     – Thank God! – said the neighbor, the owner of the shop directly across fromAurora’s family store, with relief. Seeing that she had fainted, the woman hadimmediately called an ambulance, but due to the location on the island, she offeredto take her to the nearest hospital herself. She only asked the prior and the youngpriest to help carry her to the car, parked a few dozen meters away.

     – Are you sure you feel okay? – her grandmother asked, probing.

     – Yes.

     However, the woman remained unconvinced. She knew her granddaughter wellenough to sense that something was off. She didn’t want to prolong the conversa-tion, especially since Aurora wasn’t willing to give any explanations. She decidedto patiently wait until they returned home, hoping that her granddaughter wouldcalmly recount what had caused her to faint. Unfortunately, as soon as Auroracrossed the threshold of her small, thirty-square-meter apartment, located lessthan two kilometers from her family home, she thanked them for their care andasked to be left alone. She wanted to rest in silence. Reluctantly, with grumblesof dissatisfaction, the three women left her modest dwelling. Truly exhaustedfrom the whole ordeal, she went to take a shower. Twenty minutes later, she wasalready lying in a large, soft bed, covered with a blanket. As soon as she turnedonto her side, pressing her face against the cool pillow, her body relaxed, yet hermind remained alert, as if waiting for something. Before she knew it, sleep arrived.She had slept peacefully since childhood. She had never had nightmares. But this dream was different. Wrapped in a deep, silky darkness, it surrounded her from allsides. Instinctively, she looked down. She was barefoot… standing on somethingthat resembled a mirror-like sheet of water. Cold water. There was no horizon. Nopoint of reference. She found herself in the very heart of nothingness. Just as shewas about to say something, a voice formed in her mind. Neither male nor female.It sounded like the echo of a memory that did not belong to her.

     – Duni.

     Hearing the unfamiliar name, she flinched. And though she wanted to ask towhom the voice belonged and whom it was calling, she did not, for no word couldpass through her throat.

     – Duni. – the voice repeated.

     Shivers ran through her entire body. She was completely alone. And yet… beingwatched by someone. After a while, the surface beneath her feet began to crack.She woke up drenched in sweat. The clock on the wall showed 3:13 a.m. Completesilence reigned in the apartment. Strangely, the air carried a moist scent, as if sprin-kled with dew. She lay motionless. Staring at the ceiling, she felt the dream settlingin her mind like dust, leaving behind a lasting mark. She sprang up abruptly. Grab-bing her phone, she began searching online for anything about the name “Duni.”Unfortunately, she found nothing. With a sigh, she set the phone aside. Only twohours of sleep remained before she would have to get up.

     – Good morning. – said the prior, entering the shop.

     – Good morning. – replied Aurora’s grandmother, her voice thoughtful.

     – I came to check on Aurora. How is she feeling?

     – I wish I knew. – she answered, greeting the entering tourists with a forcedsmile.

     The prior, seeing them, discreetly stepped into the corner of the shop so as notto get in anyone’s way. He only emerged once the couple had left.

     – She called this morning to say she would be late. An hour after she was sup-posed to be here, she called again, saying something came up and she wouldn’t becoming at all. – The woman sighed heavily, then looked at the next customers withresignation.

     – Maybe I should go to her. I feel responsible for the whole incident. – he saidin a lowered voice. – Who knows… if I hadn’t stopped her for that conversation…

     – It’s not your fault, Prior. She’s been overworking herself for weeks. I told herto rest more. But she stubbornly insisted that two or three hours of sleep wereenough.

     As she bid farewell to the next customers, she turned her cheerful gaze towardhim, a gaze that dimmed as soon as they were alone.

     – I’ll go to her. I need to make sure she’s all right.

     – She’s in the workshop. – she said on her way out, greeting the next customers.

     Before leaving the island, the prior went to his home, located just a few dozenmeters from the shop. The east-facing windows revealed the bay, where the tidewas slowly coming in. He had to hurry. Meanwhile, Aurora, completely absorbedin shaping a new candle, didn’t notice her mother, Isabelle, entering the large, spa-cious room where she worked.

     – You have a visitor – she said, approaching her daughter.

     – A visitor? – Aurora repeated, looking up.

     – Waiting outside.

     – Who is it?

     – Some priest from the Vatican. Emilio… something.

     Aurora stood up to look out the window. It’s him… she whispered. Emilio, asif by the touch of a magic wand, seemed to hear her whisper and automaticallydirected his gaze straight at her. She lost her breathing rhythm and began to chokeon her own saliva.

     – Are you all right? – her mother asked, her voice filled with concern.

     – Yes. – she answered flatly. – I’ll be right back.

     As she stepped outside, her legs, which a few minutes earlier had lightly movedto the rhythm of the music flowing from the radio, now struggled on the sandyground that led to the wooden bench where the handsome priest stood.

     – Good morning. – he said, with a strong Italian accent.

     – Good morning. – she replied cautiously.

     – Yesterday we didn’t get a chance to talk. Allow me to introduce myself. Myname is Emilio Rinaldi. The Vatican has sent me to this area for a year. During thistime, I will provide secular service here at Mont-Saint-Michel.

     The sincere smile on his cheerful face made her smile in return.

     – I am Aurora Lumière. – she said, offering her right hand in greeting.

     As Emilio reached to take it, Aurora’s hand went up. Following her gaze andwaving joyfully, he mirrored the gesture.

     – How did you find your way here? – asked the prior, stepping out of the car,astonished.

     – Early in the morning I went to the bakery for some bread. On my way back,I got lost in the narrow alleys. The only shop open in the area was the one whereAurora fainted yesterday. I went in, greeted everyone, and after a few pleasantries,I learned I was speaking with her grandmother. I asked for the address.

     – I understand, but how did you get here? – the older man repeated his question.

     – On foot. The local residents are very kind. They immediately showed me the way.The prior, as cheerful as Emilio, began to laugh loudly.

     – Your legs must hurt a lot – he summarized, knowing how many kilometersEmilio had walked. – Now, let’s get to the point. How do you feel? – He directedthis question to Aurora.

     – Fine. Nothing’s wrong. Please, come inside. We’ll sit down, have a bite, anddrink something cold.

     – Wonderful. There’s nothing better than your lemonade – the prior clappedhis hands with joy.

     During the hour-long chat, most of the words came from the older man.Emilio occasionally interjected with a short sentence. Aurora practically stayedsilent. Since birth, she had valued the closeness of nature more than people. Sheavoided others as much as she could. The exception was the little shop where sheworked every third day, and only during the season. Even there, seeing incomingtourists, she would pause at the register, praying they wouldn’t notice her imme-diately. Unfortunately, her beauty attracted everyone, regardless of age, gender,or orientation. Her father had always said since she was born that she was likea magnet one couldn’t resist. And it wasn’t surprising. Standing one hundred six-ty-six centimeters tall and weighing forty-five kilos, she was as fragile as a twig. Hernaturally rosy face, sprinkled with millions of brown freckles, culminating in a del-icate, proportionate, warmly rounded nose, invited staring. The wide cheekboneswere accentuated by full, sensual lips, colored like ripening rose petals. Her long,waist-length red hair, slightly wavy and mostly tied in a bun, fell unevenly acrossher forehead, partially covering it. Thick, bushy eyebrows emphasized the blue 11shade of her eyes, where pupils the size of peppercorns highlighted their oceaniccolor. Her beauty was so delicate, so untouched, that when she reached the ageof thirteen, the first admirers began to knock at the door. Yet she did not desiretheir attention or their affection. Her thoughts revolved only around the world thatconsumed her completely. That world was candles.

     Their scent… Their glow… For hours she lost herself in creating ever-newshapes, aromas, and textures. That is why it surprised her so much when shesometimes caught herself feeling the desire to draw closer to the unknown for-eigner. She rarely looked people in the eyes, and when she did, it was only fora fraction of a second. But with Emilio it was different. Seeing him for the sec-ond time in her life, she could not understand why she longed for his attention.Eye contact. It never crossed her mind that Emilio, like her, kept people at a dis-tance. The reason? A deep-seated resentment toward those he had once lovedand who had so easily abandoned him. It was his family. When, at the age ofeighteen, he felt a calling, they almost entirely turned away from him. He camefrom southern Italy. In his house lived eight people: father, mother, himself, andfive younger brothers. They were raised in the Catholic faith, but not so stronglythat the parents were willing to give any of their sons to serve, and especiallynot to the Vatican. Emilio could not understand their resistance. Therefore,one night, without saying anything to them, he packed and left, leaving behinda short letter explaining that the desire to serve God was stronger than the lifeof an ordinary man. Since then, eight years had passed, during which he hadnot once seen the people closest to his heart. Over time, he began to distancehimself from the surroundings that – like his family – began to impose their willon him too strongly. The deeper he delved into theological knowledge providedby the Vatican library, the more strongly he felt disappointment in the institutionof which he was a part. Cracks began to form in the solid foundation on whichhe had built his faith, slowly breaking it apart. The inner struggles and dogmashe wrestled with brought him nothing but enemies. And although, despite hisyoung age, he had reached the pinnacle of knowledge and his opinion was val-ued even by those closest to the pope, he quickly fell from their favor, askinguncomfortable questions and probing issues that for centuries had underminedthe very purpose of the Catholic Church on the international stage. That was why his doctoral work had to wait until the punishment of exile to a foreign landcame to an end. Then he would return to his homeland and finish what he hadbegun. The very thing that had led to his banishment. One year… He only hadto endure one year…

     – Aurora, a courier for you! – her mother shouted from the other room.

     – A courier? But I didn’t order anything, – she muttered under her breath. – I’llbe right back – she said apologetically to the prior and Emilio.

     The young priest stood to glance through the slightly open window. Aurora wasalready returning. Before opening the box, she wiped her hands on the linen aprontied around her narrow waist.

     – What could it be? – with a note of curiosity, she cut through the tape tightlywrapped around the package with a sharp knife.

     The prior looked at Emilio. The young priest kept his eyes fixed only on Aurora,never once looking away. As the lid of the cardboard box lifted, a rich, herbal,almost ceremonial fragrance wafted out.

     – Oh my God…