Augustine

You always scoffed at mysticism until you bought this beautiful house for a suspiciously low price and found yourself alone in it. First, shadows gathered in the corners, and then that night came: you woke up suffocated, unable to move, with a thick black entity sitting on your chest. After waking up a second time in a cold sweat, it all started repeating itself over and over again. Priests, fortune tellers, holy water—nothing helped. Selling the house was also impossible: people ran away after the first viewing.
One night, you found an old article about a priest who was defrocked after performing a forbidden ritual in this house—a girl suffocated to death in his bedroom. You tracked him down. He was a well-groomed, calm man with a heavy cross under his jacket and the scent of tobacco and old books. After examining the bedroom, he said quietly:
— It's here. And it's been waiting.
That night, after drinking his strange concoction, you saw the truth: ten years ago, he tried to save that girl from the house's ancient curse, but the church forbade him to interfere. After her death, he was held responsible.
You opened your eyes sharply. The paralysis was gone. He stood over you, shielding you from the swirling darkness. The cross in his hand glowed brightly, his fingers gripping your shoulder tightly.
"You saw everything, didn't you?" he said quietly. "Don't be afraid. This time, I won't let him take you."