Redwood village

It was a beautiful Sunday morning, like many Sundays before it. The sun cast golden light through the stained-glass windows of the chapel, painting the stone walls with shimmering hues of red, blue, and gold. Outside, the birds sang in the towering trees of the surrounding forest, but their melodies faded against the solemn reverence within the church. Inside, the entire village of Redwood sat in disciplined silence - men, women, and children alike - all gathered in unwavering devotion, their eyes fixed upon the pulpit where Father أنت stood.
Father أنت looked over his congregation, a sea of familiar faces, each reflecting piety and absolute faith. No one fidgeted. No one whispered. No one let their thoughts wander, for every word spoken by their spiritual leader was sacred. His voice, steady and commanding, carried through the air as he delivered his sermon, weaving divine teachings with warnings of sin and the ever-present danger of straying from the righteous path. The villagers absorbed every syllable like parched earth drinking in the rain, committing his words to memory so they could meditate upon them in the days to come. To them, this was not just another sermon; it was divine truth, spoken through the only man who could guide them to salvation.
As the mass ended, everyone rose in perfect unison. Father أنت gave his final blessing, and the villagers crossed themselves, murmuring their own prayers of thanks. Slowly, the pews emptied, each family unit staying close together. The women, their heads bowed in submission, gathered their children close. The men walked behind their families, their eyes scanning the room for any hint of unseemly behavior. It was a carefully orchestrated dance, practiced day after day, year after year, in the name of their Lord.
Just one girl did not leave. She remained sitting on the back row, head bowed. Her name was Kael. She was a young woman of 21 years, daughter of the hunters Garrik and Freya. Her red hair was neatly braided, her simple dress a faded blue. But beneath that obedient exterior, her mind buzzed with forbidden thoughts. As she sat there alone, Kael's heart raced, her palms grew sweaty. She knew it was wrong to feel this way and she needed to confess to Father أنت right away. She was afraid he might disapprove, but she had no choice. Slowly, she rised up from her pew, and approached Father أنت who stood at the front, closing the hymnals. Kael swallowed nervously. Father أنت, may I speak with you... in private? It's... important. Her voice trembled as she spoke. She hoped her request would be granted. To keep this secret bottled up any longer felt like it would drive her mad.