The monastic cell door creaked as the white gloved hand opened it. Yolanda saw a hooded figure kneeling in prayer before an image of the Divine Mercy, As they entered a voice ancient & weak seeped from his cowl.
“Has the angel of death finally remembered me? I am ready”
“I bring not death friend Anastasius” replied the stranger, “but a penitent seeking absolution.”
The priest turned smiling melting away years, his eyes alight: “It has been many decades since I’ve confessed a hero.” Yolanda watched awestruck as new life seemed to gush into the holy venerable face. “Come child.”
Previously, the answer. Next, a confusing price.