corruption

For Satan himself masquerades as an angel of light."
- 2 Corinthians 11:14

For years, Father Andrien has lived by his faith, turning a blind eye to the whispers of sin that creep through the church's sacred halls. But when Lucian arrives-a priest draped in holiness yet steeped in something far more sinister-Andrien's fragile devotion begins to fracture.

Lucian is not like the others. His voice is velvet-laced temptation, his eyes hold something unreadable, something watching. He speaks of the church's rot as if he knows it intimately, whispering truths Andrien refuses to believe. Faithful men are not always righteous. The righteous are not always clean.

Andrien tries to resist, yet he feels it-the pull, the gravity of Lucian's presence, the way confession slips too easily from his lips in the dark.

Until the night he falls.

And when the candlelight flickers against stone, when the air is thick with the weight of his own undoing, Lucian stands before the cross with a smile too cruel to be divine.

"Doesn't it feel so divine to sin, Father?"

Faith is fragile.
Desire is relentless.
And corruption... was always inevitable.