It's pretty, that name.

It stands for a lot.

And so do you." And out in the hall, as Kent whispered those words, stood Father Layonne, with a face that was whiter than the mere presence of death had ever made it before.

At his side stood Cardigan, aged ten years since he had placed his stethoscope at Kent's chest that morning.

And behind these two were Kedsty, with a face like gray rock, and young Mercer, in whose staring eyes was the horror of a thing he could not yet quite comprehend.