So I took a big gulp, said a quick prayer and walked in.
The monastery looked like it had grown straight out of the mountain itself…
Ancient stone walls weathered by centuries of wind and rain.
The moment I stepped through those heavy wooden doors,
the air felt different.
Thicker somehow, as if centuries of prayers had left their mark on the very atmosphere.
I had no idea what to expect when I walked in but the monks welcomed me with gentle nods
but kept their distance…
Leaving me to wander the candlelit corridors alone.
It was not what I was expecting and wondered what the next few days would bring.
The next couple of days were interesting exploring the ancient castle-like building in peace.
But I hadn't seen anything really noteworthy, and I started to wonder if my vision was just a delirious dream.
Then on my third night, unable to sleep…
I found myself tracing my fingers along the cold stone walls of a particularly dark hallway.
That's when I felt it…
A slight draft where there shouldn't be one.
What happened next still sends chills down my spine.