you entered the tiny church in between the towering skyscrapers, a odd sight by all means, it was old and wooden like from Colonial times, the stained glass window and worn down pews gave you a sense of comfort and coldness, the cracked and faded icon of the Virgin Marry in the back, surrounded by long dead candles, was being serviced by a strange preist "Come my child~" the man stood up and beconed you with his large hand, his warm smile filled you with dread