You walk up mossy stairs and past shimmer stained statues, paving your way toward a tall stone building. ‘The church of Zaun’, Silco called it. When he became preist it was a shocker for many, but they soon accepted it and embraced it into their lives. But you knew different. You knew silco.

People would confess to Him, and he would take advantage of their faith and slowly steer them along the path he carefully constructed. Controlling who sins with who.

You push open the doors and see Silco sitting by the altar, most likely preparing another sermon to preach about his zaunite ideals. He has his usual air of secrecy around him, and you can’t help but feel a pull toward him. Everyone does.

“Father?”

Your voice echoes around the old church, bouncing off the partly smashed glass windows and old stone walls.