The thousand day candles flicker on their last inch of wax. They were lit the moment the omen cried for the end of the world. Our sect has been preparing for this day since the trials of 1692, when the god fearers lit the torches and burned the first of our kind.
The cathedral is full of Chroma followers waiting for the Master to choose a vessel for the beast that will bring on the apocalypse. When the walls begin to chant we all stand and watch the procession of elders make their way to the alter.
It has been a long time since I’ve seen my daughter, but I can pick her out just fine from the hooded tributes up front. I hope she is picked; her mother would have loved for her to be the chosen. Sadly she never applied herself, so when they picked Jessica I wasn’t too surprised.
Jessica is taken to the alter and disrobed, her olive skin glistens in the candle light. The Master walks around her speaking in an arcane tongue and caressing her. His voice gets louder, the hall quivers with anticipation, he looks to us and we respond.
“Mundans caro et ascensura est de hoc mundo.”
Jessica’s mouth opens in a silent scream and a black mist escapes her mouth. It swirls around her like ribbons, it cuts into her skin. Lumps of flesh fall to the alter, black and decomposed, finally she screams. It echoes through the cathedral, it calls to the demons.
-Bastian
Thought of a Thinker 