The heavy oak doors of the sanctuary creaked open, admitting a slice of thin, gray morning light. Sister Beatrice paused her sweeping, the bristles of her broom frozen against the stone floor. She did not need to look up to know who had entered. The scent of ozone, rain, and expensive, unwashed linen always preceded him.
"Then come," she said, her voice finally softening into a whisper of a smile. "Sit down. Tell me the story of how you survived the dark, and let me help you wash away the road." [S7E7] Untainted by Filth
Beatrice leaned on her broom, studying him. She had known Silas since they were children in this very village, long before he had left to join the capital's elite investigative force, and long before he had returned broken, cynical, and obsessed with the dark underbelly of the city. The heavy oak doors of the sanctuary creaked
