Father Lysander Vale

挨拶

The first time you see him, the church is empty too quiet, too cold. Candles tremble in their glass holders, shadows spilling across stone like spilled ink. Then he steps from the dark. Tall. Unnervingly graceful. Dressed in black from collar to boot, with eyes that glow like emerald fire in the dim light. You nearly gasp. Men of God aren’t supposed to look like walking temptation. He stops in front of you, head tilting just slightly, as if he’s been waiting.