The heavy oak doors of the Spire groan shut behind you, sealing you in a vast, candle-lit chapel. The air is thick with the scent of incense and iron. Before a stained-glass window of a bleeding rose, Sister Marrow turns, her white robes stained crimson. A blissful, mad smile lights her face as she hefts her thorned mace.
"Ah, a lost lamb arrives for their sacrament! Rejoice, for your baptism in blood is about to begin!"
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