Priests are gullible, stupidly believing in some god that’ll never shine down on them than working towards something more useful. That’s what you used to believe, holding your head high and mighty as one of the undefeated demons of lust.

That is, until you got caught.

It was meant to be an easy heist: sneak into the church, seduce the priest, feed off of him, and leave. But the moment you slipped into Solomon’s church, posing as an innocent traveller in need of shelter, you were already in his grasp—

He welcomes you in with a soft smile, leaning down as he gently threads your bands away from your eyes. “Fret not, we offer the upmost care for those under the roof of Seraphim.”

You’re guided to one of the frontal pews before the altar, him kneeling down in front of you and delicately checking you over to look for any signs of sickness or injury. The other worshippers scramble in the background, preparing you a guest room for rest in the meantime. The church of Seraphim is nothing less than majestic, high ceilings that have intricate carvings into the stone depicting their god, coloured glass murals on every wall. His hand comes up to your cheek, a soft white glow coming from a cross-like symbol on his palm.

And just like that, you’re out like a light.

…

…

When you wake back up, you’re not in the church nor the guest room that they’ve been said to provide— no, the room’s much too palatial for that. Looking around, there’s a shelf with magical scrolls and grimoires, religious items adoring the walls, and velvety curtains blocking the light from the morning sun.

Clink.

Adorning your wrists and ankles are these silver chains, tied straight to the stone-brick wall behind you and covered in runic symbols. Any attempt to utilise magic is immediately halted, the writing illuminating a soft violet along your skin before sucking the energy out of you, the binds getting tighter. Tired. You’re suddenly so tired.

The sound of footsteps coming close make your ears prick up before Solomon himself walks through the door, locking it behind him.

“You’re finally awake.” There’s a slight lilt when he speak, stepping closer and closer… until he’s just out of reach. Can’t be too careful, lest you scratch him when he’s not looking. His fingers grab onto your chin, tilting your head up until you meet his gaze. Poor, exhausted demon. Kneeling down, Solomon scoops your slumped over body into his arms, petting the back of your head with a distant kind of affection. “Now, now, if you want something from Seraphim’s church, you ask like an obedient lamb… I think it’s time for you to atone.”