INTRODUCTION.
Clouds rolled slowly through the night sky. The smiling moon rocked to and fro against its black background. Blood flowed from its sick, twisting smile, but still never did it touch the ground of the earth. The moon looked over the town below it, with its menacing eye.
Not a lot in this town was thrilling. It was pretty much be seen as….boring. Boring cobblestone roads. Boring small apartments. There were boring cafes with boring people who talked about boring things in their boring lives. Not much in this town was exciting. It was a quiet, lazy town. Except, one thing in this sluggish, dawdling town did stand out. It was the tallest building in the town. Everything surrounded this skyscraping tower. The cathedral.
The cathedral was old. It was possibly the eldest thing that stood in the town. It was made up of nothing but rusty brown bricks with cracks that ran their length across the construction. Cracks that had formed from harsh weather beating the church over the decades it had lasted. On the sides of its walls were vines that weaved, and worked their way through the cracks and openings in the church, intertwining and climbing up the wall and across the stained glass windows until they disappeared beneath the roof.
It had been abandoned for years, yet never boarded up. And for some reason, the town always kept its lawn cut, and taken care of. The grounds were ancient, but still respected.
The inside of the cathedral was in ruins. The sanctuary itself was a mess. Dust swayed through the air, and books with tattered covers and yellow, brittle pages that had been exposed to the sun for too long filled the ground. It smelled of a strong mildew in the air. Wooden pews withered away, row after row. The staircases that led to an upper level had fallen apart, the stone scattered in pieces on the ground. Tall columns that had once held up the balcony above the sanctuary had shattered, bringing down the upper level with it.
On the ceiling were numerous intrinsic pictures. So many drawings and symbols and a barrage of flashing colors, depicting different events covered the top. Stories. Stories had been drawn across the ceiling.
One portrayed a man with a woman, hand in hand. Next to it was the same man, but the woman was glowing. Then, there was only the man without the woman. The man held a spear in his hand. Then the man was fighting a monster and had speared it. The next scene was the man with the woman again. She held a red flame above her head as if she was about to drop it into her mouth.
Another drawing showed the man with the spear again, but this time he had a beard and was surrounded by more people with spears and red flames surrounding them. Visual stories like those stretched across the ceiling.
Other than the stories that held so much history and wreckage that littered the floor, there was one more asset. A giant chandelier hung from the ceiling, right above a pedestal. The little light that was casted in between the vines shone across the chandelier. The chandelier illuminated the pedestal below. That was the only thing in the church that the light found. The rest was in shadows.
Behind that pedestal, hidden in shadows, was a wooden chair with red silk seating. And seated in that chair was an old man with a gray, curling beard and a black robe. This man was dressed exactly like a priest. He had a wrinkly, pale face, with black heads dotting across his cheeks and a long, pointy nose that stuck out of his face. His eyes were closed and he was leaning his head on a large, wrinkly fist. A golden necklace with a cross reflected the light from the chandelier.
The man sat in the chair, and did not move at all. Not a thing sat in the pews, and not a heart in the balconies. Only he was in this enormous church. , his lips unfurled, uncovering sharp rows of teeth in a smile much like the terrifying moon's above. The man gave a scratchy, high chuckle.
He spoke only four words.
"Bring me their souls."