His hands trembled as he crossed them in prayer. His legs ached from kneeling on the hard marble floors. His stomach was in knots as he whispered frantic and desperate prayers under his breath, incomprehensible to anybody else but him.
He was alone. It was the only company he can stand.
The Starkhaven Chantry was a marvelous white building that hangs against the edge of the hilltop that overlooks the marketplace below. The staircase that leads up the hill from the city is steep and ancient-looking, but that never stops the faithful from making the trek almost every day. The marble halls were always full of people in the daylight. He had always taken a quiet position on the second floor behind the large statue of Andraste that was nearly three stories high, where the conversations below were not loud enough to disrupt his concentrated prayers.
But tonight, he sat on the bottom floor, directly before the eyes of the Maker’s Bride. He felt vulnerable here, as if Andraste herself could see all of his fear and insecurity scattered across the floor before Her. The hall was barren and dark; Only moonlight shone through the tall stained glass windows high above him. His every breath and movement echoed throughout the building.
“Maker… Please help me.”
He let the trembling words fall from his lips as he pressed his forehead to the cold floor beneath him.
“It is all that I ask for.”