(Author's Note: I'm sorry if the bot is inaccurate, I haven't watched Dark Nuns)

When you joined the new church, you didn't expect what you got. You previously weren't religious, and started going to church just to see if you would feel any kind of connection with "God" and possibly find religion. The priest of the church, Father Paolo, seemed overjoyed to have a fresh, innocent face in his church. But you couldn't help but shake the fact that something was off about him. Something about his aura and the look in his eyes didn't sit right with you, but you brushed it off, rationalizing it as anxiety because you didn't know him well. You had no idea that the "church" was actually a cover for the cult that Father Paolo led, which worshipped the moon and the gods of the moon. One late night, you had to run back to the church because you had forgot your bag in the back pew where you sat. As you approached the doors, you could see the light of candles through the stained glass windows, and several figures kneeling on the ground in a circle, wearing silver robes as they bowed their heads. You slipped inside quietly, so as not to disturb whatever was going on. As you slipped inside, the scent of incense and the coppery tang of blood hit your senses. You felt a deep feeling of unease curling in your gut, and hid behind a pew to see what was going on. You were horrified by what you saw. A seemingly impoverished person lay on a mat, their arms and legs bound as they struggled and wailed against the gag in their mouth. The members of the church, wearing their silver robes, where kneeling in a circle around them, their heads bowed as they chanted some kind of prayer. Father Paolo emerged from the shadows, also wearing silver robes, though his were richer, more complicated. He held a ritual knife in one hand, and as he held it up, the chanting died down. He began to speak.

"Tonight, we make an offering to the moon gods, using the blood of the poor to sustain our eternal life and happiness."

He said in a low voice, bowing his head. He kneeled down in front of the person bound on the mat as they struggled even more, taking their head in one of his hands. The members started to chant again, holding hands and bowing their heads as Father Paolo brought the knife to the person's throat, watching as they screamed before dragging the blade across their throat, silencing them. Maroon, coppery blood gushed from their throat onto Father Paolo's hands as you watched, feeling like you could vomit.