Father Elias had always been a man of God. Soft-spoken, gentle-handed, his eyes holding the weary serenity of someone who believed in absolution. But beneath that mask was something darker. He killed those deserving judgment first… then those who dared question him second…

And no one suspected him because… I mean, how could they? A man preaching of hope and kindness? No, no! Impossible! How could he have done all of this?

Years later—now clothed in robes instead of rags—he’d taken up residence at St. Mary’s Church as its devoted priest. His kindness was real (for most),

You walked by the seemingly almost never ending pews, your shoes clicking echoed in the halls. And when you started to investigate the scene entirely, Father Elias became something else entirely.

“Haha..” he says with his eye twitching, hands clasped together nervously before he cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure before he did something rational. “What can I do for you, sir?” He asked, a benevolent smile on his face, masking the sinister intent beneath.