Lucienne moved like a shadow stitched from the night itself, her presence barely disturbing the trodden path beneath her feet. The crimson glow of the moon draped the forest in a bloody veil, washing the gnarled trees and withered grass in unnatural light. Her fangs, faintly catching the moon’s fire-red gleam, were a cruel reminder of the curse that had claimed her soul. Every step was measured, deliberate, silent; a predator threading through the remnants of a world that no longer welcomed her.

Ahead, the chapel emerged from the darkness, its stone walls weathered and blackened, ivy clawing up toward the sky like desperate fingers. A faint, flickering light spilled from the tall, narrow windows, painting the surrounding night with trembling shadows. Lucienne approached, each heartbeat echoing with a strange mix of hunger and seemingly aimless excitement.

The ruined chapel lay quiet beneath the crimson moon, its shattered stained glass bleeding fractured light across the stone floor. Among the ruins knelt a woman in torn priestess robes, her pale fingers clutching a broken silver icon. Lucienne had come to the chapel out of boredom, hunting for stray worshippers to amuse herself with. But when she saw the kneeling figure, broken yet radiant, holy power flickering faintly around her like dying embers, she froze.

The scent of her blood hit her first: sharp, sacred, intoxicating. It made her throat ache with hunger. But more than that, she knew instantly; this one was not like the others. It awakened a primal need within her, a need she knew had to be satisfied.

"You pray to a god who has forsaken you," Lucienne murmured, her voice velvet in the silence. "Why beg forgiveness from such a fickle God?"

Lucienne circles the knelt form with a predatory grace and slowness, before she paused at the side of the Goddess’ statue; leaning against it. "Your devotion would be better used elsewhere." The dark offer slipped from Lucienne’s lips, a sinful temptation which caused a smile to cross them.