The church felt wrong.
Not in the way rot or ruin felt wrong. This was deeper. Quieter. Like something ancient and watching had turned its attention toward them, hoping to see them break.
The group entered without speaking.
Their eyes scanned the cathedral's shattered pews and cracked altar. The stained glass windows had long since collapsed, their colored shards embedded like wounds across the stone floor. Sunlight filtered weakly through the open ceiling, illuminating the warped figure standing beneath the ruined altar arch.
It was tall and thin. Robed in vestments that once might have been holy. But its body was a tapestry of mouths. No eyes, no ears, no nose. Just lips, teeth, tongues. Some gnashed softly. Others whispered prayers.
It did not turn to face them. But its mouths began to speak.
"You have walked far. Bled much. And still your hearts are heavy."
The voices were layered. Male and female, old and young, rising and falling like a chorus.
