As soon as Clara entered the room, it felt as though every sound around her vanished instantly. The parish was silent and empty except for a lone young man kneeling before the elevated altar where Faceless sat. One leg rested casually over the other as he occupied a magnificent throne, his masked face angled downward toward the kneeling figure before him.
"I have suffered long enough, Lord. I want wealth... No, I need it..."
The man's voice trembled violently as he struggled to keep his body from shaking. Beneath his filthy, worn clothes, countless needle marks covered his arms, exposing years of substance abuse. He was unmistakably a drug addict.
"And what are you willing to give up for this life you desire?" Faceless asked calmly.
The man nodded frantically and shuffled forward on his knees.
"Anything. I will give anything. Just give me lots of money."
