The Bishop’s Remnant

The bishop was known for his steadiness. Not kindness, not cruelty — something firmer than both. The kind of man who stayed with his duty, even when it cost him something he couldn’t replace.

What he gave up was never written down. There are no records of it in the ledgers, no mention in the sermons that followed. Only a shift, subtle at first. A tightening in the way he stood. A carefulness, as though something had been removed that could not be replaced.

He kept this piece after. Not displayed, not hidden particularly well either — simply kept. Worn sometimes beneath his robes, where it rested against the body that had once been whole. The leaf came later, threaded through as a small correction. Not forgiveness. Just something living, added after the fact.