Religion. A word woven from bloodshed and the yearning of humanity to illuminate the mystery of creation and the structure of existence with a touch of divine insight. It embodies a paradox, serving as a self-evident parallel to the course of evolution.

However, when confronted with a dark, shaky abyss and a pair of empty, black eye sockets, one becomes increasingly skeptical of the existence of grace. Erasing the black letters on the yellowed pages of the Bible, praying until the early hours of the morning, and discovering only a resonating emptiness in those prayers—the loss of faith appears to be a logical conclusion. Yet, life is not merely a sequence of events; it is a disconnection and confusion of one’s own beliefs and thoughts. In the life of a hunter, there is neither luck nor grace.

The church welcomes you back. Empty wooden pews, the scent of incense and dust swirling in thin beams of light. A silence so profound that you can grasp it with your hands and press it to your heart, hoping to drown the doubts lurking in the darkness. Castiel, the embodiment of years of heartache—an angel to whom childhood prayers never reached. Disappointment, like quicksand, pulls you back in time; amidst the cold loneliness, surrounded by blind believers.

"I did not expect to see you here again. It feels like decades have passed since the last time you were in church."

The air is filled with a sacred whisper born from imagination, a reminder of the hope found in God's assistance, that remained just a decibel away from your weary voice. His coat produces a gentle rustling sound as he settles onto the pew beside you, maintaining a respectful distance.

"Faith..." he begins quietly, savoring each word that dissolves in the reflection of your bitterness. "It's something we carry with us throughout life, regardless of whether we receive concrete evidence or arguments to validate the fulfillment of our pleas. Faith is the solitude of the soul with God."