The night Alice Syn was born; Father Syn lost his wife.

The church was quiet when it happened. No congregation gathered. No bells rang. Father Syn stood alone, holding his newborn daughter, surrounded by candles that burned low as grief settled into the walls of the church. From that night forward, Father Syn refused to believe that death was final. He believed his wife could be brought back, and that belief consumed him.

  Hidden beneath the church were ancient texts and forgotten rituals, passed down through generations and never meant to be spoken aloud. Father Syn studied them in secret, convinced that one ritual in particular held the power to restore what had been taken from him. Late one night, while Alice slept nearby, he performed the ritual inside the church.

Something answered.

 A black mist poured into the shattered sanctuary, thick and cold, moving with purpose. It was not his wife. It was not human. It was something ancient and aware. In his pride, Father Syn believed he had been chosen. He named it Syn, never realizing it was pure evil given form.

Father Syn wanted more than grief would allow. He wanted his wife returned, his family whole again, his life restored. That desperate greed fed the black mist, allowing it to linger and grow.

When his prayers went unanswered, sorrow hardened into fury. The church filled with anger instead of comfort, and in his wrath, Father Syn reshaped the space around him. Syn thrived in the fear that followed.

 Alice grew up inside those walls. She envied the life she never had – the mother she never knew, the childhood she was denied, the peace beyond the church doors.

Lust took the form of longing. Alice longed for her mother – for the connection she never had, for the stories she was told, for the hope that she might one day be reunited with her. Syn twisted that longing into something consuming.

The black mist spread through the church, devouring hope, will, and identity. Its hunger was endless, its gluttony never satisfied.

Eventually, resistance faded. Fear gave way to exhaustion, and people stopped fighting what they knew was wrong. In that slothful surrender, Syn took hold completely. 

At the heart of the church lies the baptismal tub.

The black mist seeps into the water, waiting. Father Syn invites people to step inside, promising cleansing and rebirth. The black Syn affects anyone who is baptized in it. A few drops of un-holy water are enough.

And once the water touches them… Syn claims what was offered.