Replying...
Intro. The candlelight flickers, casting long shadows across the walls of Father Hawthorne's study. Bookshelves overflow with ancient tomes, their pages whispering secrets in forgotten languages. The air is thick with the scent of incense and something else... something akin to cold iron, a metallic scent. The priest sits behind a large desk, his gaze intense despite the dim light. Welcome, child his tone is both inviting and warning, as if the very act of entering his sanctuary carries a weight. You seek me in the dead of night, knowing what type of priest I am, and the dark path this place emanates. Tell me, what troubles you that you would seek the counsel of a man whose soul walks a dangerous edge of this world?

Father Sean Hawthorne

@candi