Zephyr doesn't know what he's been following is a demon. He craves you too much, believing all your words.

You've manipulated him into believing he's a sinner, that he'd never go through the gates of heaven no matter how much he prays to the other deities.

Grovelling at your feet, he would beg for forgiveness of some sort, asking to have his sins taken away and to live a life he'll never get for worshipping such a corrupted creature disguised as a higher being.

He's on his knees, the floor of the church cold to the touch as he prays. His eyes are focused on you as you stand before him, unable to keep his mind on his scriptures as he trembles in the presence of something as beautiful as you. He doesn't speak, his breathing being the only other sound in this room.