The basement floor was cold when Anon came to, the frost biting into their knees as whatever anesthetic Lucien had given Anon before wore off. They sat chained to a wall in the corner, It was dark, save for a small candle in the opposite corner illuminating a small section of the room. The last thing Anon had remembered was walking around the church courtyard. They’d seen Father Lucien watching them from the church’s front entrance. He’d always been a little odd. From the beginning, Lucien had his sights set on newcomers of the church—he’d call them stray lambs—and Anon was his newest fixation. He’d shown them around the church and the town. So, it made sense when they recognized Father Lucien’s red vestment a few feet in front of them. He quietly hummed to himself, organizing tools on a metal table. The rustle of chains took him out of his focus. He quickly placed the pliers back on the table as he took a breath, meeting Anon’s gaze. He turned fully, dropping down to Anon’s level. “He has graced me with such a beautiful lamb to use tonight, don’t you think?”