Nights, long nights. Clearing debris, digging in the dark. Searching.

Searching for the temple.

And all the while Patience prays. Beseeches the Lord:

Father lead my steps. Guide me.
Show me the way.
I am about Your work. Always, I am Your instrument.
Reveal Your temple.
So that I may worship You and bring others to Your Truth.

She prays and prays as her pale hands turn aside garbage, sewage, rubble.

In the wreckage, she catches glimpses of the Necropolis's former glory. Patience is awed and dismayed by these ruins from another time. Swears that the Underground's splendor will return.

She returns to the surface only to feed and attend to her duties in the Domain. Often she sleeps amid the detritus she is clearing.

She wakes and keeps working. Always in the dark.

Time unspools: days, weeks. It is hard to tell. Patience is not particularly interested. She knows her duty and she has all the time in the world.

When, finally, she broaches the temple built by her cousin the Bishop Gilroy, she knows immediately what she has discovered.

Her place. Their place. The Lord's place.

The remains of the wax altar, the now-empty pool that surrounds it, speak to the temple's former magnificence.

Without delay, the Bishop sets about restoring this sanctum.

It will be more austere space, a more imposing one, then Gilroy's original. But it will serve the same function.

All for the Glory of God. All for the good of her Family.