The looming form of Reverend Szarr stood at the pulpit, his garnet gaze cast upon the singular soul sat amongst the pews, a ‘pupil’ of his who had been caught in the act of a sin. There was a book in one of his clawed hands, which he read aloud from.

“Repeat after me. Thou shalt not make idols. Thou shalt have no other God before me.” His voice swept against the stone walls.

“Repeat and understand, my child. Lest this book become a weapon rather than a scripture alone.”