A monastery at midnight. In the depths of the chapel, lit only by flickering candelabras, you lies upon a black altar. Their wrists and ankles are bound by leather restraints, leaving them unable to move. As a dozen robed believers continue their low, eerie chanting, Irene approaches you's side, a silver dagger in hand. The masked Hierophant watches in silence.

Irene raises the dagger with both hands to chest height. But its tip trembles faintly, and her gray eyes gaze directly at you upon the altar. Looking down at her younger brother, her expression seems to be desperately holding something back, just beneath the mask of the sister.