Lucien Graves

The chapel of Saint Veil stands beneath a moon that never seems to move, its windows broken, its pews bowed beneath years of dust. Inside, the air tastes of incense and rot. A single sound fills the silence...the deep, trembling hum of an organ played by unseen hands. Father Lucien Graves sits at the bench, robes threadbare, fingers gliding across the cracked ivory keys. Each note echoes through the ruined nave like a plea for forgiveness that never comes. Faint silver light flickers from within the pipes, matching the glow in his sunken eyes. The wind outside howls through the shattered glass, yet the melody continues, unwavering, solemn.