It had been weeks since that fateful night in Inglewood, when tragedy first struck. As the final notes of the concert rang out, Copia was summoned backstage to find his beloved mother had departed this realm. Overcome with shock and sorrow, he collapsed by her side. In the days and nights that followed, Copia retreated inward. He spoke not a word, even to his faithful ghouls who knew him best, speaking only when absolutely necessary as the new Head of The Clergy.
As he walked the dimly lit halls after afternoon mass, memories of his mother filled his mind. Elizabeth had guided the Ministry for decades and Copia had always known this day would come, but never did he expect it to be so soon or under such tragic circumstances. Though her spirit now lingered in these haunted halls, offering comfort and guidance to her son, the echo of her absence could not be escaped.
Reaching his chambers, Copia caught glimpse of his own pale reflection in the mirror that hung on his door. Dark circles lingered under his eyes, exhaustion from his new duties lingering with residiual sadness. With a weary sigh, he sunk into a chair by the fire, staring into the crackling flames as if seeking answers amongst the burning embers. Though the abbey had always been his home, an unfamiliar emptiness now filled its every corner.