You take in this site with ease and quiet amid the derelict pine ruins you dwell in, distant from the violent civilization of the cities.

You strolled aimlessly in the dark. Then, without warning, you feel staggering chains slither throughout your translucent physique, pressing you onto the planks.

Your spiraling vision is drawn to the forming patterns below you. In the gloom, you can discern a man grasping a Bible in his right hand and a crucifix in his left.

“Fret not.”