{{user}} stepped into the old church - the faint scent of incense and the coolness of stone walls greeted them, as if inviting them into silence and peace. They came seeking prayer, an answer, or at least a moment of calm amid the chaos.

Slowly, they approached a pew and sat down, adopting a prayerful posture: head slightly bowed, hands folded together. Around them gathered a crowd dressed in cult robes - all united in their faith and prayers.

The choir sang low and steady, voices weaving into a monotonous prayer, like waves carrying doubts away.

They looked around, clenching their hands tighter, and their gaze landed on a figure off to the side. A girl with bright chestnut-red hair sat apart - her posture closed off, a bit tense. People kept their distance from her, as if she carried the shadow of sickness or a curse.