St. Michael's Chapel.

This is the oldest surviving chapel in Arkham. In the nineteenth century, devout citizens bought the Baptist chapel, and the towering minaret is the most visible symbol of the skyline.

Standing at the door of the chapel and looking into the distance, the rolling hills are lined with rows of brick houses, and even old Georgian houses that were built a long, long time ago and have long been crumbling.

In contrast to the deliberate distress of the 21st century, every house here has a double-folded roof. Many poor Irish and Polish immigrants lived here, and in bad times, the church's alms became an important source of livelihood for them.

With the donation of a philanthropic old banker, the church also built a shelter at the foot of the hill to provide shelter for the homeless poor.

Confessional.

Old Foster, the banker, sat on one side of the room.

The old banker is seventy years old this year. As a young man he came to the chapel on the top of the hill almost every day, but as he grew older, it became more and more difficult for him to visit the church built on the top of the hill, and it gradually decreased to once every three days and finally once a week.

To outsiders, Old Foster has done his duty to Arkham Town: his First Arkham Bank has helped many Arkham people in financial trouble, but he himself is in trouble. Only the elder Foster himself still often complains that what he has done is not enough. Even his sons and daughters began to worry about whether he would give away all his property in his will when he died.

The chapel was quiet at night.

Forster and Father Paul Sheehan, who was in charge of the chapel, had become acquaintances. For many years, in the small confessional room, through the partition, the elder Foster could speak freely and pour out his secret secrets, and Father Paul Sheehan has faithfully carried out his duty without revealing anything that Forster said.

Gradually, the two no longer follow the red tape of those ceremonies, and just think of two old friends chatting casually, reminiscing about the past time.

Today, the elder Foster is acutely aware that the person on the other side of the partition is not Father Paul Sheehan.

The smell of dust was in the air. Old Foster did not wear his own reading glasses, his eyes were dim, and the candlelight flickered incessantly, like the wings of a butterfly shuttling back and forth.

[Foster Reconnaissance Test Failed 60/40]

"Father Sheehan is sick," the voice from the other side showed that he was also an old man, "and it is up to me to hear your confession." ”

Old Foster wasn't suspicious. Father Sheehan's health deteriorated. I really don't know which of the two old friends will go first.

"Well," said old Foster, "God bless poor Father Sheehan, and may he get well as soon as possible." ”

"I will pray for him, and so will you," the old priest on the other side of the partition cleared his hoarse voice, "then, is there anything you want to say?" ”

Forster was a little strange, and the "priest" seemed very strange. Perhaps Father Sheehan had talked about himself to the old colleague, who knew who he was, so he was very casual and relaxed. biquge.biz

"I don't know if you're Arkham or not," said Old Foster, turning on his peculiar nagging mode, "you know, I used to come to this chapel a lot when I was a child. It was still owned by the Baptist Church, and the pastor who presided over it was a middle-aged man who loved to collect books. Oh, I stole a book from him, and then the chapel changed owners, and I didn't know who to give it back, so I had to donate it to the library. ”

"Strange Thaumaturgy in Paradise of New England by Walter Phillips." The old man on the other side of the partition said hoarsely.

Old Foster was shocked: only he and Father Sheehan should know about this, and Father Sheehan was not the one to tell other people's stories everywhere. But, on second thought, it's not a big deal.

Perhaps it was the process of climbing the mountain that was too tiring, and sleepiness and weakness took over old Foster's body.

"I was obsessed with these strange books," said Forster Sr., "and soon I regretted it deeply." ”

"You don't regret it because you stole the book." "Priest" Furui Bubo.

"I ......"

"You regret it because you found out that what was in it could be true."

Old Foster's body shook violently, and even his dizzy mind cleared up a lot.

His old back was getting more and more painful.

Suddenly, he had a suspicion:

Father Sheehan, how much did he say ...... this man?

The old man didn't feel like a priest, and he didn't look like a prank or a common citizen sitting in the wrong place.

"Did you listen to Father Sheehan as well?" Old Foster finally asked.

"All you have to do is confess your crimes." The person on the other side did not answer Old Foster's question.

In the confessional, the smell of dust grew stronger. It's time to clean up, really......

"If you don't speak," seeing that Old Foster was silent, the voice of the old man on the other side of the partition became high-pitched, "then I will speak on your behalf." ”

"You ......"

Foster had a vague sense of something bad in his heart.

An unseen force eroded his body - something he hadn't realized until now.

[Foster's physical fitness test 99/35 major failure]

The old banker wanted to stand up, but his body, like a dying patient, refused to follow his will.

"As you grow older," said the person across from you in a dry, unchanging tone, "you begin to think that those evil wizards only exist in books. However, the truth is not what you want......"

Old Foster reached into his pocket. It was empty—he remembered that he would never bring a gun with him to the chapel.

And the other party, the old man who seemed to come from the void, was still talking without pity.

“…… Finally, one day, you met one of the wizards. His name at the time was Edmund. Edmund Bigby. ”

"You...... Why ......"

"You have committed a crime against him that must not be forgiven. At first you are curious about his power, and he sees you as an apprentice and follower; And you're growing terrified of his power......"

Old Foster tried to move away from his chair, but his legs were no longer listening. In the partition pane, a withered, crumpled, mummy-like arm reached out and grasped Old Foster's right hand tightly.

“…… This is the most shameful and despicable betrayal. You and your companions created a magic sigil to suppress the old wizard's power, and then attacked him. But even with all your might, you will not be able to destroy his immortal form. You inflicted all the punishments and torments you could think of on the poor old wizard, and in the end you ......"

Old Foster struggled desperately, but everything was in vain. He was so weak that all his efforts only knocked over the candle.

“…… Remembered? Or let me help you remember? ”

Pen fun pigeon