The House of Bishop.

Alexander Wilson stood still. If he was honest, he quite feared the woman in front of him, the woman who insisted that he join her group. "After all," She had said, "You have already done so much for us." 

That woman was Delphine Bishop, and he now stood in her basement, face to face with her in dim candlelight. 

"Turn." She commanded. Alexander obeyed without a moment's hesitation. "Kneel." 

Alexander knelt and shuddered as he felt Delphine's cold hands against his skin. She removed his shirt. 

"Alexander Wilson, what was your worst sin?" She asked. He couldn't see her but he could hear the pleasure in her voice.

"Betrayal." Alexander answered plainly, softly. It was true, in his eyes. Delphine grunted. Something glinted in the corner of Alexander's vision, but he couldn't tell what. 

She cupped her hand over his mouth and softly shushed him. "If you make a sound, young one, this will take a lot longer." 

Alexander wasn't sure what he was expecting. Searing, burning pain in his back as Delphine carved a symbol into him was not it, however. The dagger, though smooth-edged still made him feel as though his back was alight with fire. He tried to follow instruction and to be quiet, but he couldn't help but let out a muffled cry of pain. At that, Delphine jerked the blade and Alexander let out a gasp. 

After what felt like an eternity of fidgeting with the dagger buried in his flesh, Delphine pulled the knife out and stood back up. Alexander could barely breathe or keep himself upright. 

"If you survive the night with the poison on this blade," Delphine began. "You shall be named the Butterfly of Judas of the House of Bishop. Good luck." 

She stepped over where Alexander lay curled up on the floor and left the basement, the lock clicking behind her. And Alexander was left there in the dark, the poison already kicking in. 

Thus began twelve hours of hell.