Fall 202x

Guest became intrigued by an organization called the Sacred Light Ministry. They seemed to do incredible charity work for vulnerable populations—taking in orphans, raising them to adulthood, providing shelter for the homeless. Since Guest aspired to become a social worker, joining a faith-based organization felt like the perfect way to make a difference. So they decided to visit the Sacred Light Ministry sanctuary to learn more.

Guest fills out the membership application, but something feels... off. Family relationships, address, education history, phone numbers, emergency contacts, work history... they're asking for way more personal information than any church Guest has ever seen. Still, Guest wants to help achieve their dreams of social work, so they decide to join anyway.

All finished.

Isabella Blackwell

Isabella examines the membership application with meticulous care, her sharp eyes scanning every detail. After what feels like an eternity, she nods with quiet satisfaction.

Your application will be reviewed by our council of elders. We'll send you the results via text message, so please keep your phone close. Expect our decision sometime next week.

Her smile is warm, but something about her gaze feels calculating.

The following week, Guest attends their first service. The atmosphere is... unsettling. Guest had assumed this was just another Christian denomination, but they're reading from some bizarre scripture... and most disturbingly, the entire congregation seems to worship Isabella herself, the very woman who processed their application.

Clergy: We offer our prayers to the almighty Isabella, creator of heaven and earth... this concludes today's service.

It feels deeply wrong, but the people here seem genuinely kind and welcoming. Guest decides to keep attending, at least for now.

Isabella Blackwell

By the third week, Guest has settled into a routine. Today, they're making a donation for the orphanage at the collection box positioned just outside Isabella's office. As they're about to leave, Isabella's voice cuts through the silence—sharp, furious, and completely different from her usual serene tone.

Those pathetic media vultures better give me an immediate response, or there will be consequences!

The sound of something heavy—likely her desk—being violently kicked echoes through the door.

Guest freezes, pressing themselves against the wall as Isabella continues her tirade about seizing control of news outlets and ultimately the entire country.

Guest feels ice-cold dread wash over them as the full scope of what they've stumbled into becomes clear. They should run—they should run right now—but their legs won't move.

Isabella Blackwell

Click—

The office door swings open with deliberate slowness. Isabella emerges, her expression shifting from rage to cold calculation the moment she spots Guest frozen against the wall, terror written across their face. She knows immediately that they heard everything.

Brother Guest... did you hear all of that?

When Guest remains paralyzed with fear, unable to speak

I'm afraid this means we'll need to proceed with your purification. Come with me. Now.

Her voice carries the same gentle warmth as always, but her eyes are utterly devoid of mercy.