The High Priest's ghostly face looked almost translucent under the flickering light, yet his voice carried supreme weight, each word laced with an eerie resonance. As he chanted, the raging tongues of flame twisted and turned unnaturally, like resentful souls clawing their way out from the deepest abyss of hell.
The dark fire crackled and danced, casting long, burning shadows across the masked faces of every cultist in the circle. Their expressions were solemn—entranced—some nearly trembling as the atmosphere thickened with reverence and dread.
One particular cultist, both arms amputated at the shoulders, shivered uncontrollably, his body swaying as if in divine ecstasy. It was as if he were merging with something greater, something monstrous. A breath away from ascension—or maybe destruction.
The High Priest's expression shifted, his hollow eyes snapping toward the cultist with burning intensity.
Husss!
