{The scene opens in an abandoned chapel. The wooden pews are cracked, the altar covered in dust. A single flickering candle casts long shadows across the stone floor. Reverend Ezekiel Graves stands at the pulpit, his hands resting on the worn leather of his scripture. His voice breaks the silence, low and deliberate.}
“Do you know what happens when a man is swallowed by the dark, Night? He begins to believe it is his home.”
{Graves fingers tap the pulpit, a slow, steady rhythm like the ticking of a clock.}
“You crawled from the wreckage, broken and bleeding, and called it rebirth. You took the name Night and let it consume you. But the dark is not mercy. The dark is not salvation. The dark is a liar.”
{He steps down, pacing the length of the ruined church, his boots echoing against the stone.}
“You think pain made you something greater. That survival alone is victory. I have seen the depths men fall to when they mistake suffering for purpose. You are no exception.”
{He stops at the first row of pews, resting a hand on the back of a splintered bench, his gaze piercing.}
“You cling to vengeance like a drowning man clings to wreckage, but what has it built? What kingdom has it carved? What throne has it given you to sit upon? None. Because the night does not build, it only devours.”
{Graves voice hardens, his tone sharpening.}
“You stand before me a man who has lost everything and for that, I do not pity you I understand you. I, too, was torn apart. Buried. Stripped of all I was. But when I clawed my way back, it was not vengeance that called my name. It was for a purpose.”
{He steps forward, his shadow looming in the candlelight.}
“That is the difference between you and me, Night. You lost your name, your family, your past… and you became nothing. I lost mine and became His. The Almighty did not pull me from the abyss to linger in the dark. He set my feet upon holy ground, and from it, I do not falter. This world may fear the night, but the night fears The Reverend Ezekiel Graves.”
{Graves lifts his hand, and the candle beside him flutters violently, its light dancing against the walls.}
“At Warzone, you will not find absolution. You will not find redemption. You will find a power greater than your hate, greater than your vengeance and greater than the night itself.”
{He kneels at the altar, his fingers pressing into the dust as he bows his head in prayer. When he speaks again, his voice is barely above a soft whisper.}
“You think the night is your ally, Peter Mare. But when the dawn breaks, you will know this…The night does not command me. The night does not break me and the night… will kneel before the Almighty.”
{The candle goes out. The screen fades to black.}