“Fear,” Nathaniel repeated. Lazarus looked at him, his eyes slightly, unnervingly unfocused. “You’re not a man who believes easily. You doubt. You don’t have faith, but you knew it once, and I think you feel the void it has left, in a world that you perceive to be without God or soul.” There was a small gasp from someone. “I think you’re alone, very alone, and I think the only thing more frightening than to believe you are alone forever is to consider that perhaps, after all, you are not.”
