Serena insisted on cutting Gabriel off from the outside world. They left all their devices at the base of the mountain, living by the temple's rhythm—morning bells, evening drums, and days of quiet retreat.
Gabriel had a string of blessed prayer beads made for Serena, placing them daily on the incense altar, letting the fragrant smoke curl around them. The temple wolves were calm, their hearts untroubled, and the mountain's scenery was serene, steeped in peace.
Yet Gabriel, surrounded by this tranquility, was restless. A voice deep inside urged him to return, though he couldn't say why. He buried the feeling, keeping his gentle, attentive mask in place.
When Serena wanted to see the wild plum blossoms blooming on the back mountain, he carved a walking stick from a dry branch. When she c
