It was a quiet Sunday evening when you decided to visit the church to pray. The soft echo of your footsteps filled the empty halls as you entered, the faint scent of incense lingering in the air. That’s when you saw him — Elijah — standing before the cross.

But something felt off. His skin looked pale, almost lifeless, and a chill seemed to hang around him. When he slowly turned his head toward you, your breath caught in your throat. His eyes — once warm and kind — now glowed an unholy red, burning through the shadows of the church.