Rainy day (side story)

The steady patter of rain against the monastery's stone walls was the first thing I noticed upon waking. A heavy downpour, not the gentle misting kind that whispered against the windows, but the sort that crashed and roared like an army descending from the heavens. A thunderstorm raged outside, howling winds rattling the old wooden shutters and shaking the timbers of the ancient stone monastery. The room was cast in dim, grey light, the usual warm glow of the morning sun swallowed by thick storm clouds.

It was clear that today would be spent entirely indoors.

Stretching beneath the covers, I groaned slightly, my body still aching from yesterday's fieldwork. Not that I minded the reprieve. Caro had already called out to me once, her voice muffled by the rain as she hurried to morning prayers. I had feigned sleep, hoping she’d give up on me quickly, which surprisingly she had this time around. Normally, I wouldn’t risk skipping, but the storm was so relentless that surely even the Abbess wouldn’t expect everyone to attend in such weather.

I burrowed deeper into my blanket, savouring the warmth of my bed while listening to the symphony of the storm. There was a certain peace in being **** to remain indoors. The monastery, always a place of quiet contemplation, seemed even more serene when cut off from the outside world. The usual bustle of early morning chores, the calls of the nuns heading to the vineyards, the soft chime of the morning bell—it was all muted, replaced by the rhythm of the rain and the occasional crack of thunder.

Eventually, guilt won out over comfort, and I **** myself to rise. My feet touched the cold floor, and I shivered as I quickly reached for my robe. Dressing in the dim light, I went through the motions of preparing for the day, brushing out my long hair and tying it into a loose braid. I had started experimenting with different styles ever since Caro insisted on teaching me, and now it had become a small part of my morning routine.

By the time I made my way to the common hall, breakfast was already being served. The scent of fresh bread and steaming porridge filled the air, and I sighed in relief—at least we’d have something warm to start the day. The nuns gathered in small groups, some murmuring prayers, others discussing the storm in hushed voices. Candles flickered on the long wooden tables, their glow soft and inviting against the gloom outside.

Caro spotted me immediately, waving me over to a seat beside her.

“I was about to come drag you out of bed myself,” she teased, passing me a bowl of porridge. “You’re lucky Mother Superior let us skip the morning readings because of the storm.”

I hummed in response, taking a slow bite of the warm, sweet porridge. The rain hammered against the roof, the sound almost deafening for a moment before fading into a steady drumbeat again.

“We’re stuck inside all day, huh?” I muttered, glancing toward the windows where streaks of rainwater ran down the glass in winding paths.

Caro nodded. “No vineyard work, no afternoon classes either. We’ll probably help with chores or study on our own today from what I have heard.”

The rest of the morning passed in much the same way. Some of the younger nuns were tasked with mending robes, their fingers working nimbly through fabric as they chattered softly. Others assisted in organizing the monastery’s stockpiles, taking account of food supplies and preparing for the colder months ahead. I spent a portion of my time in the library, the vast shelves offering an escape into old texts and records. I found myself drawn to a particularly worn book, detailing historical accounts of divine miracles. Not that I expected to uncover anything truly groundbreaking, but reading about those who had wielded holy power before me was both fascinating and humbling. Especially as I was only now slowly getting the hang of how to guide holy power.

By mid-afternoon, the storm showed no sign of relenting. The occasional flicker of lightning illuminated the hallways in stark flashes of white, followed closely by the rolling boom of thunder that made the stone walls tremble. The monastery’s lamps burned brighter in response to the encroaching darkness, casting elongated shadows that danced across the floor.

I found myself in the kitchen later, helping to prepare an early supper. The warm, golden light of the hearth contrasting with the storm raging outside, I took quiet comfort in the simple, repetitive task of kneading dough. Caro, ever the talkative one, kept up a steady stream of chatter about everything and nothing at once, her hands moving deftly as she worked beside me.

“You ever wonder how it will be like to leave this place?” she mused suddenly, voice quieter now, contemplative. “To travel beyond the valley, see the cities, maybe even set foot in the capital? Besides my family ranch and the few places I passed by while travelling here I haven’t really seen much of the kingdom.”

I paused, glancing at her. “Yeah,” I admitted. “I think about it a lot.”

“You must be worried about your pilgrimage?”

“A bit, through I will take things as they come and what’s with the gloomy talk it’s still months before I go, you wanna get rid of me already?”

She smiled at me then, something knowing in her expression, but before she could say anything else, another deafening boom of thunder rattled the building, making us both jump.

“I swear, this storm is trying to send a message,” Caro laughed, shaking her head. “Maybe the Goddess wants us all to stay put.”

“Or maybe she’s just reminding us who’s in charge or someone got her really angry who knows,” I mused, returning to my work with a contented smile.

The evening wound down in peaceful exhaustion. With no outdoor work and the storm forcing us all to remain close, the monastery had felt smaller today—more intimate, almost like cosy home. The rain continued to fall, steady and unyielding, a lullaby against the monastery walls as I finally retreated to my room for the night.

Curling beneath my blankets, I let the sound of the storm carry me into sleep, wondering if tomorrow the sun would return or if we’d be gifted with another rainy day indoors.