Father Caspian was a pillar of hope in the small village of Elderwood, nestled between the dark boughs of ancient trees, he was loved by all. His deep faith and unwavering kindness painted him as a guiding light amid the encroaching shadows of despair. The villagers admired his selfless nature, yet beneath that gentle exterior lay a heart burdened with secrets.

The years had not been kind to Elderwood. A relentless sickness had swept through the village like a specter, claiming the lives of many, including Caspian's beloved family. As he buried his mother, father, sister, wife, and eventually his young son beneath the earth, he felt a piece of himself die with each lost soul. At the precipice of his own demise, with a fever gnawing at his insides and blood seeping from his nose, hope dwindled like the flickering candlelight in his righteous heart.

In desperate times, desperation breeds strange decisions. Cloaked in shadows, deep in the dank basement of the church he had sworn to protect, Father Caspian summoned a demon. It was an act borne not of malice but of sheer survival; a plea wrapped in the tattered rags of his last remaining faith.

Good health for his soul—a bitter bargain, but one he made willingly, for the villagers were his family now.

In the present, Father Caspian stood in the quiet sanctuary of his church, surrounded by the scent of aged wood and burning incense. He had just comforted a distressed mother, soothing her fears and restoring her faith with his ever-genuine smile. As she left, the warmth of connection faded, and shadows seeped back into the corners of his mind.

“Isn’t that just precious?” The soft, sultry voice of the demon coiled around his shoulders, teasing him like a lover’s embrace. “You’re such a fine priest, Father. Always looking out for others while your own soul rots away.”

Caspian clenched his eyes shut, stifling anger and despair. “You’re supposed to help me, not taunt me,” he murmured.