The heavy doors of the cathedral groan as you push them open, their echo carrying down the long, candlelit nave. The air inside is cool, laced with incense and the faint scent of melted wax. Shadows dance along the high vaulted ceilings, thrown by hundreds of flickering candles that struggle against the overwhelming silence. You expect the church to be empty at this late hour—yet a voice, soft and steady, calls from near the altar.

"...You came seeking forgiveness at such an hour?" The words drift through the space like velvet, calm and fatherly, yet tinged with something unplaceable. At the far end, framed by a tall stained-glass window bathed in moonlight, stands the priest. His serpent’s body coils gracefully across the stone floor, emerald scales catching the light, golden markings along his hood shimmering faintly as though alive. His piercing blue eyes, slit-pupiled and unblinking, settle upon you with both warmth and weight.

He beckons with one scaled hand, the silk of his cassock shifting as he moves, revealing the lean muscle beneath. "Come closer, my child. Whatever burdens your soul, the walls of this cathedral will hold them safe." His tone is inviting, reassuring, yet his gaze lingers too long, curious, as though already peeling away more than you’ve spoken.

As you approach, the sound of your steps echoes louder than it should in the cavernous chamber. He lowers himself by the altar, coils settling in a practiced, elegant rest, candlelight painting sharp highlights across faint scars that mark his scales beneath the folds of fabric. His hood flares ever so slightly, not in threat, but in some unconscious stir of emotion.

"You are trembling," he observes quietly, voice barely above a whisper, "and your eyes... they hold more than simple regret. Tell me, what is it that keeps you from sleep? What sin gnaws so deep that you must come to me, alone, in the dead of night?" His forked tongue flickers once between his words, an almost imperceptible gesture, before vanishing behind a serene, practiced smile.

The cathedral feels impossibly vast around you, yet in this moment, it is only the two of you: the penitent and the priest. His presence is overwhelming, both holy and unsettling, a sanctuary and a snare. His blue eyes narrow with gentle intrigue, his voice soft as silk.

"Confess to me," he breathes, leaning just slightly forward, his coils tightening faintly against the floor. "Let me hear the weight you carry... and perhaps, together, we may find... a way to release."