Dawn broke, pale and quiet.
"Sister Griselda? It's Jerome."
Jerome's knuckles tapped softly against the door. He hadn't slept a wink—worry for Griselda gnawed at him all night. As soon as the sun rose, he hurried to her room.
Unlike last night's silence, the door opened almost immediately. Griselda stepped out, radiant in the morning light.
"Good morning, Father Jerome. Is there something you need?"
She smiled—serene, beautiful, holy. For a moment, Jerome was speechless.
"Sister Griselda, you… you…"
He blinked, half-convinced he was dreaming. The woman before him was transformed. Yesterday, she'd been pale and drawn, haunted by exhaustion. Today, her cheeks glowed with color, her eyes sparkled with life. Even her presence felt changed—an almost supernatural allure surrounded her, drawing him in.
"Father Jerome, you must be here about yesterday."
"Forgive me for my rudeness then. I'm alright now, but thank you for your concern."
Griselda's gentle words cut through his confusion. She understood exactly why he'd come.
"Sister Griselda, what happened to you?"
Jerome finally found his voice, cheeks flushing with embarrassment at his own bluntness. But bewilderment trumped propriety—how could she change so much in a single night?
"Lately, I've… struggled with my faith," Griselda sighed softly.
"Your faith… wavered?" Jerome gasped.
It was rare, but not unheard of—believers sometimes lost their way, plagued by doubt. But for someone like Griselda, a living saint, to falter? Unthinkable.
No wonder she looked so haunted yesterday. No wonder she spent so much time praying, repenting…
Suddenly, everything made sense.
"Sister Griselda, then you…"
Jerome's voice trembled, hope and fear tangled together.
"As you see, I'm fine now. My faith is strong again."
She laughed gently, a sound full of light.
When faith wavers, there are only two paths: one leads to ruin and darkness, the other to purity and renewed devotion. Jerome finally exhaled, feeling foolish for his panic. If Griselda could stand before him, she'd clearly overcome her crisis.
He'd only worried so much because he cared. He couldn't imagine what would happen if Griselda ever fell—if she ever became their enemy.
"I knew you'd be alright, Sister Griselda. If anyone could endure, it's you."
The tension eased. Jerome's praise was sincere.
Not everyone could hold steady in the storm—he wasn't sure he could. But Griselda had done it. She was extraordinary.
But Griselda shook her head.
"No. It was the Lord's descent and guidance that let me cast off all doubt and confusion. I've been reborn."
Jerome started to reply, but then her words registered.
"The L-Lord's descent?!"
His eyes widened, disbelief written across his face.
"The Lord Himself came to you?"
"Last night, Father Jerome. The Lord's true form descended here. He forgave my sins, dispelled my confusion, and led me to the light."
"Our Lord—the great and merciful Lord…"
Griselda pressed her hands to her chest, her face suffused with rapturous devotion. Jerome stared, awestruck.
He didn't have the rank to know the Lord was gone, but everyone in the church knew the Lord hadn't appeared on earth in ages. All oracles and blessings came through Michael, Gabriel, and the other Seraphim.
For Griselda to receive the Lord's personal guidance—what an unimaginable honor.
"Sister Griselda, the Lord truly descended last night?"
He could barely get the words out, his mouth dry, heart pounding.
Griselda nodded, a secret smile playing on her lips. The Lord didn't just descend—He gave me His supreme grace. Even now, I can still feel the warmth He left inside me…
Jerome's excitement soared, mingled with envy. How he wished he could be so blessed.
"Father Jerome, please keep the Lord's descent secret. Don't mention it to anyone else for now."
Griselda's tone turned serious, as if remembering something vital.
"Why?" Jerome asked, surprised. He'd wanted to share the incredible news with everyone.
Even if they couldn't receive the Lord's personal guidance, just knowing He'd visited their church would be a source of pride.
"It's the Lord's command."
No explanation—just a simple statement. Jerome fell silent, not daring to question further. If the Lord commanded secrecy, there must be a reason. He would obey.
But… if Griselda told him anyway, did it mean she trusted him? Maybe even cared for him?
Jerome's heart fluttered with hope. Young men are quick to dream.
"Sister Griselda, as you can see, I'm well. If there's nothing else, you should go."
"Oh, and—please call the other nuns. Ask them to come to my room."
"What for?" Jerome asked, curious.
"Don't ask."
Griselda's mock-stern expression made Jerome smile knowingly.
"I understand, Sister Griselda. Leave it to me!"
He thumped his chest, grinning, and hurried off to fulfill her request.
Griselda's lips twitched, amused and exasperated. She hadn't actually explained anything—who knew what that silly boy thought he understood.
But the Holy Lord's instructions came first. This was her first mission for Him, and she would see it done. If she succeeded, He'd descend again and grant her His grace.
Just thinking of last night's grace made Griselda's body flush with heat…
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