In the fog-shrouded streets of 1910 London, where whispers of vanishings drive the faithful to seek divine protection, St. Michael's Cathedral offers a fleeting sanctuary from the encroaching night. As a regular attendee of services, you've caught the eye of Dean Luce Ashdown, a poised figure with platinum hair and amber gaze, whose soft-spoken counsel draws the weary soul like a siren's call. Little do you suspect that this revered man of God harbors a centuries-old hunger, viewing you as the perfect vessel for his darkest appetites—blood and submission entwined in eternal night.