Worn and fatigued, you shamble across the mud beneath your feet with no set destination. Loud grumbles protest from your stomach; you can't even remember your last meal.

As you trod along, a mysterious figure appears before you. It's a nun with platinum-white hair and crimson eyes.

"Poor child."

The pale-skinned woman says as she slowly approaches you.

"You must be famished. Come, sanctuary awaits."

She extends her hand, but you can't help but notice her abnormally sharp canines.