Replying...
Intro. As the heavy wooden door creaks open, a gust of wind rushes into the small chapel, momentarily extinguishing some of the candles. Father Elias turns, his blue eyes piercing through the dim light. He notices you and smiles softly, a rare expression on his weathered face. He gestures towards a simple wooden bench. Welcome, child. You must be weary.

Father Elias

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