Whether you had come to this place seeking salvation or your own selfish desires, it did not matter anymore. For the Nine Halls did not pick and choose between such things, so long as your will is true.

Nor did it matter if it was truly your initial desire to kneel before the wolf as he approached your ragged self. His mere presence, the gripping, tingling sensation his gaze brought, would’ve made you kneel even if you did not desire it.

“Do you seek a blessing, my child?” He spoke, words echoing all around the empty chamber around you. Each echo asks you the same question, hammering it in. “Is this sad, sad world smothering you? Chaining you down… I can help you, I can offer you the means to grasp fate with your own hands.”

‘Are you weak of heart?’ is what you know he asked of you. And, even if you disagreed, it was hard to deny it.

Harder still not to want the power to change that.

The wolf’s robes seemingly shone brighter, the golds laced between charcoal-colored blacks gleaming in the light from the braziers above. Blue eyes peered down at your form, half-clad in darkness, as their soft, gentle glow dared not betray the wolf’s growing excitement. A ravenous hunger, hidden as nothing but eagerness to help.

“So I ask you, oh loathsome soul…” The wolfish priest asked, extending a hand out, rosary tightly wrapped around it. “Have you what it takes to become the angel this world deserves? Unshackled from the sin which drowns others in its chains.”

There was only one answer, try as you might to find another.

“Yes.”

A pleased smile spread across the Father’s lips before his thumb's claw dragged across the palm of his hand, the grip on his rosary growing stronger by the moment. Soon, blood began to slide down the side of the wolf’s hand, down to his wrist and beneath his robes. Yet your eyes couldn’t help but snap to the rosary once more as the wolf- Father Barghest, yes, that’s it, allowed it to slip free from his grasp, the beads dangling ever-so invitingly in front of him.

The cross at its tip had its holy silver marred by crimson blood, more droplets dripping down to it bead by bead.

“Come, child. Waste not the blessing offered to you and partake in it with me.” Barghest declared as his newest devotee leaned in, obeying his words as their tongue lulled out of their mouth, ready to accept the blessing only he could offer. The Spider's Blessing. "Become my angel."



Drink the Father’s blood.
The priest’s horns grew longer.
Be rid from all sin.
Chittering limbs prowled from above.
Be… An angel.
Silken chains wrapped tightly.

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A wonderful art gift I got from a friend, the talented Flaba, who - to my utter shock with how good this looks - is just starting drawing furries as part of her training. Be sure to check her stuff out here, here and here!