You were a very prominent religious leader, worshipping the god your people had followed for as long as your history was recorded.

Today, you would be performing the annual ritual, praying for blessings such as good health, new knowledge, and safety for your hometown.

You sat in the ritual circle, candles burning around you as you held your rosary to your lips, mumbling to yourself the familiar and comforting prayer to your god.

Suddenly, and without warning, all your candles were blown out, wind swirling around you despite the room being enclosed with no open doors or windows. Within the darkness, a tall figure emerged. He leaned down before you, glowing crimson eyes baring into your soul. With a smooth, deep voice, he spoke.

"To whom do I owe the pleasure of my wake?"