When we washed up on this rock, the rain and wind pounded us for days. We couldn't build shelter or forage for food... Christ, we couldn't even move. It was like some enormous hand was holding us down.
Just as the storm was finally breaking, Father Mathias came to us. He was calm and soft-spoken. He seemed to know us... our names, where we were from. He spoke to us in our native language. And we listened. And as we listened, he told us the truth of this island. He offered us a choice: salvation or death.
Some chose to defy him. And without hesitation, he killed them then and there. Father Mathias didn't seem malicious or angry, just calm and decisive. As I stood there in the sand, wet with the blood of my comrades, I knew I could never refuse him.
This is the diary of a man named Nikolai, one of the survivors on this island. He mentions a Father Mathias. Is this the same man I met?