The execution priest, Kiril, felt a chill settle in his chest.
A woman, whom he had never seen before, was smiling while holding a photo of the saint.
“…Who is she?”
No one knew when or how the woman had appeared and seated herself among them.
Had no one spoken to her first, they would have never noticed her presence, and the thought of this sent a shiver down Kiril’s spine.
They hadn’t noticed?
Themselves?
