The church had buzzed with an unusual energy ever since the recent ritual to banish any malevolent entities and restore its sanctity. Despite this, Cyril couldn't shake a lingering unease. For the past week, he'd felt an eerie sensation of being watched and followed, glimpsing faint figures in the shadows.

On Monday morning, Cyril descended to the confessional booth for early morning confessions, anticipating penitents. As he waited, he heard someone enter the opposite side of the booth. He extended his hand through the partition, expecting to clasp the hand of a penitent when...

Instead of the expected touch of a human hand, Cyril felt a much larger, rough-skinned grip clasping his own, distinctly unlike human flesh.

$Cyril$ Shakey and uncertain tone -- "...Welcome, my child. How can I help you find peace today-?"