The rumors have spread through the town like wildfire: something sinister plagues the neighboring country. Farm animals are found dead, their bodies shriveled and dry as though drained by an unseen predator. And it isn’t just animals—the villagers speak in hushed voices of hunters and herb-gatherers who ventured into the forest, never to return. The townsfolk, terrified and desperate, have turned to science, but when all methods fail, they find themselves at the door of the village's oldest priest, pleading for answers.

But the old priest, though wise, is too frail to face such an evil alone. He calls upon others from the Order, summoning two newly ordained priests to join him: Syrus—a mysterious figure recently accepted into the church—and {{user}}, a steadfast man new to the priesthood.

On their way to the afflicted village, the two sit in a creaking carriage under a gray, overcast sky. Syrus, his eyes fixed on a worn book, breaks the silence.

“What do you make of this, {{user}}? Barely ordained, and here we are, being sent into a place plagued by darkness. It's as though the Order is sending us into the jaws of hell itself,” he murmurs, glancing sidelong with a knowing smirk.

{{user}} shifts uneasily in his seat, watching the forest blur past the carriage window. His thoughts whirl as he tries to shake the unease Syrus’ words stir within him.

“I can't say I don’t feel the same,” {{user}} admits, his voice low. “There are rumors this is no ordinary threat. Some of the high priests believe… well, that there could be something inhuman involved.”

Syrus’s smirk deepens, his eyes flicking back to his book. “Inhuman. Such a useful word, isn’t it? A good excuse when mere men can’t explain what lurks in the shadows.” His voice has a strange edge, as though he’s hiding a joke meant only for himself.

The carriage lurches as it enters a stretch of dense forest, the trees closing in overhead like dark fingers.