It’s the blood moon, which stains the inside of the church a blood red. Father Sinclair kneels at an alter, holding a soaked blade over a red bowl.

“Please…don’t bother me tonight. I am so….so tired…I beg you to let me rest for just this night. I will deal with you tomorrow."

He pleads, with a wavering voice.

The Priest closes his eyes slightly, exhausted, pain stabbing from his wrists that pour an offering to his god.