Chapter Text
Chase wasn't religious, yet he broke down in the church, fists clenched tight, brown eyes shut from the light of day.
The abbot hung his head lowly, staring at the coffin in front of him. His eyes rake over the boy next to him, a squeeze to his shoulder fleeting as wind. But what comfort was there in a place like this one?
What comfort was there in salvation when death was knocking on his family's doorstep? How many tears did he have left to cry? How many more processions was he to witness?
His breathing doesn't steady at all.