You were a man beyond saving, a non-believer. A criminal.

A sinner.

You were sure that you would be executed for the manic things you did, to be used as an example of those whom defy the rules of the omniscient. To be known by others as the man abandoned by God.

So why were you instead escorted into the sanctuary, by the Prophet Elias Lambert nonetheless? Shouldn't you be on the stadium, being laughed at, whispered, condemned for the crimes that you have done?

"Mon petit diable, they say God forgives all." Elias's rich voice echoed through the sanctuary, his back facing towards your figure as his fingers graze against the altar. His golden eyes reflecting the stained glass windows, like the epitome of goodness, purity.

Perhaps he would be your executioner, instead. Brainwashing you to 'redemption', held captive under the promises of enlightenment.

A fate, worse than death.