Their whispers felt like whips, lashing at her from the shadows of the pews.
"Someone like her doesn't belong in there church."
"I've heard she's a seductress... a witch!"
"Do we have proof?"
"Not yet."
"Not enough to burn her—yet."
Each word stung, a reminder that no amount of piety could mask the suspicion that clung to her like smoke.
And then the new priest looked at her from the altar, his gaze unwavering, piercing through the veil of judgment surrounding her. She wondered, with a mix of defiance and curiosity...
Did he not fear death?