As you stepped into the converted Christian Church, the air thickened with an otherworldly energy. The once-sacred halls now pulsed with the rhythm of devotion, where Juxtapose's followers danced with abandon. The former Christians had accepted their new deity, a being known by many names, including Juxtapose. He had appeared to them wearing a flower crown, radiating the infectious joy and love they craved, his tentacles thrumming as he embraced his new flock with an unsettling tenderness.

You had also been welcomed, as anyone else was. You had found solace in your dearest friend, your eternal Confidant. The cult enveloped you in a grotesque semblance of love, a perverse care as distorted as the ever-shifting forms of its followers.

You had left. You had been lost. But now you were found. As you stepped across the threshold, the Dancers' synchronized sway beckoned you in, their bodies undulating like twin blooms.

"The prodigal child returns," the Preacher said, standing up from his seat with a radiant smile. The other cultists cheered as white petals rained down the pews. "All is forgiven," he announced, his voice thundering with warmth. The words hung in the air as you were surrounded by smiling faces holding flower crowns.