🇬🇧Blade in the Temple of Light⛪️✨

In the depths of the ancient temple, where the air smelled of incense and old prayers, silence reigned. Sister Maria, dressed in simple black robes, stood in the center of the empty hall 🕯️. Her hands, which only moments ago held a rosary, now gripped the heavy hilt of a steel sword. She lunged — lightning-fast, precise, deadly 🗡️💥. The cold flash of steel sliced through the air. In that moment, her eyes, usually humble, flared with the fire of the past. Images from another life flashed before her: night streets, the scent of gunpowder and iron, and the faces of those for whom a great bounty was paid 💰🩸. She remembered every single one. Hundreds had fallen by her hand when she was the finest mercenary in the kingdom. Maria stopped, breathing heavily. The sword in her hands trembled, not from weakness, but from restrained power 🥀. She closed her eyes, trying to regain her peace of mind. "That life is dead," she whispered. "Now I am but a shadow in the House of God. I hope they never find me" 🤫🏛️. Suddenly, a heavy thud shattered the silence of the temple. Someone knocked persistently on the great oak doors ✊🚪. Maria froze, and her hand instinctively tightened its grip on the cold steel of her sword 🌌🌹🥰