It was a moonless night.
Shadows moved between the towering buildings, distorting under the flicker of streetlights as they struggled against the dark.
An eerie, discordant hum, like a choir of lost souls, drifted through the streets, reverberating against the cold stone.
At the heart of the city slums, the abandoned cathedral loomed like a specter. Its tall, upside-down crucifixes cast grotesque silhouettes, casting an unsettling shadow against the crumbling walls.
The scent of incense stifled the air, and the faint glow of blood-red candles illuminated the faces of the forsaken- eyes wide with a mixture of hope and a crazed fear.
A shady crowd had gathered… The needy, the lost, the bored. The marginalized, yearning for purpose. All drawn by the promise of a 'true' messiah.
From the depths of the shadows, a sinister grin cut through the darkness.
The crowd immediately collapsed to their knees, trembling hands clutching offerings-coins, gems, fruits dripping with the essence of desperation.
The hollow echoes from within the cathedral walls resonated like the restless stirring of ancient spirits.
A man stood upon a raised platform, cloaked in simple robes, and a chain necklace. His eyes- dark as the void- scanned the sea of faces before him: hungry, desperate, searching. They were all here for him.
"Brothers and sisters," he began, his voice a calm, resonating melody that seemed to sink into their very bones. "You are lost. The world has betrayed you. The world will not save you. But I… I bring you the Truth."
A collective shiver passed through the crowd, as though the air itself thickened, the tension mounting with each word. They hung on every syllable.
He had promised them salvation. And he would deliver.
But what he didn't tell them was that the Truth he offered was not salvation-it was a gilded chain, shining and heavy, yet binding all the same.
With a flourish, he raised his arms. In that instant, a thunderous thump reverberated through the walls, as if the cathedral itself groaned in acknowledgment.
"Behold… Salvation is upon us."
Hidden performers, silent as shadows, orchestrated the illusion, weaving the atmosphere with dread and awe.
A flickering light pierced the darkness, illuminating the twisted faces of the onlookers. Gasps of awe mixed with sharp intakes of breath, fear intertwining with reverence.
As the walls trembled with whispered voices, the audience quaked in anticipation, believing they were in the presence of something otherworldly. The heavy scent of incense choked the air, adding to the suffocating atmosphere.
"Ahhh! Our god! Malzaphor is upon us!" the crowd chorused in frenzied worship, their voices rising like an uncontrollable wave.
The priest, a figure of feverish zeal, dropped to his knees, forehead pressed to the cold floor as his hands clenched in fervent prayer.
The walls groaned, resonating with the collective anxiety of the faithful.
Suddenly, the priest's eyes snapped open, gleaming with predatory fervor.
"Epitychia!" He declared, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade.
The cathedral fell silent- so thick was the tension, the air crackling with anticipation. The priest rose slowly, his every movement deliberate, as if time itself had stretched.
"…It seems Malzaphor finds the offerings acceptable," he intoned, a sinister smile curling his lips.
A collective sigh swept through the crowd. Relief, gratitude, prayers spilled forth in a torrent, but Caius's smile hid a darker secret- one twisting deep within him.
...
"Thank you everyone! I hope you enjoyed the day's fresh bread and soup. Also, be sure to buy pancakes from Kadem's pancakes! Remember... Our god is watching."
The last annoyingly grateful follower walked out of the door, as Caius' face immediately darkened. He sighed.
"Finally, it's done."
He slowly headed towards the stage, the only sound in the night the sound of his footsteps echoing against the squeaky, wooden floor, contrast to the cacophony of sound that had filled this cathedral a moment before.
He walked passed the wooden podium, and towards the backstage door, making sure to occasionally glance around him to make sure nobody was sticking around for an after sermon unplanned meet and greet.
The last time something like that happened he had to deport an entire bloodline to the middle of the sahara desert. The paperwork was overwhelming.
Caius Falsis unlocked the backstage door, his black cloak billowing as the last of the followers vanished into the night.
He stared into the blank hallway that lay in front of him.
The only decoration was a few red candles on stone and uspide down crucifixes on the wall.
Maybe he should buy a new statue... He basically had an endless amount of money. Everyone's reaching out to sponsor him, making him plug in their businesses each sermon.
Kadem's Pancakes... What a joke.
But money was money.
"How tiring…" he murmured to himself. "Still, the haul tonight is bigger. Humans are so easy to… Persuade."
The newly unlocked door creaked open, revealing a narrow hallway lined with doors. As he waited, a small crowd emerged, wiping their throats and hands.
At the front was the leader-bald, with striking eyebrows, and a dark cloak that matched the atmosphere.
"That was exhausting," the man muttered. "The walls are damp, and there's a dead rat in there. Hey, boss, time to pay up. We're done."
Caius smiled, his triangle-shaped pendant glowing ominously in the dark.
"I'm sorry. Malzaphor is having another bad day," he said lazily. "He'll require more offerings tonight."
The crowd tensed. The bald man stepped forward, his eyes narrowing.
"Enough of this. It's been like this for a week now."
He stepped closer, his glare hardening. "Pay us now, or we'll take it by force."
Caius's smile never wavered. He tilted his head, unaffected by the threat of the larger man.
"I don't know what you're talking about. Malzaphor requires the extra offerings. I cannot—"
"TO HELL WITH MALZAPHOR!" The bald man roared, raising his fist. But he froze as Caius leaned in closer, whispering into his ear.
"...Don't you miss your wife?"
A flinch. Caius smirked.
Caius produced a phone from his cloak, an ominous red button displayed on the screen.
"Wouldn't it be a shame if you never saw her again?"
The bald man faltered, his fist trembling in the air. Caius's finger hovered over the button.
"Don't… don't you dare," the man growled, but his voice wavered.
The glow of the candles behind them cast an eerie shadow on Caius's face.
"Kneel. Now."
The worker's resolve cracked. He dropped to his knees. His anger was palpable, but the fear in his eyes grew too powerful to ignore.
Caius gazed down onto him, a hollow smile under his narrowed eyes. "Ah, it seems like a demon took hold of you for a moment. Are you back to your senses, now?"
The bald man, fists clenched in fury, muttered, "…Yes, vice-leader."
"Good. Thank you for your understanding. Go home now. I'll make sure Malzaphor's blessings will be with you next week."
"…And with you."
Caius turned, pushing past the workers as they instinctively made way for him. His hand hovered near the red button as he walked down the hallway, the workers keeping their distance. At the end of the hall, he sighed, closing the door behind him.
He smiled. It worked.
He lazily went to press the X to close the screen but accidentally hit the red button instead.
Whoops.
No big deal. The button didn't do anything. It was just a little trick he'd been perfecting.
And they'd fallen for it. They truly thought he had hostages.
True, their loved ones were somewhere underground, far from the city…
Peaceful. Silent. Undisturbed.
In 15% off Legacy Caskets™ he had found in the local coffin shop.
But, those workers had criminal records. He didn't feel bad at all.
He only 'hired' them because he planned to change bases soon.
Caius stepped into his private chamber, the door clicking shut behind him, as the glow of the moonlight fell onto him from a curved window at the end of the room.
Tonight had been another successful performance. The city had bought his lies, just as they always did.
Under the shadow of the looming bookcases around him, he opened the Anon feature on his phone… The messages were piling in.
Some from desperate followers, some from people trying to get closer with him, and others telling him about the false flag operations, the conversion of celebrities and assassinations of key figures.
Tonight was another successful performance. The city had bought his lies, just as they always did.
The work was getting a bit annoying.
"Hell… Where did my lovely cult leader run off to?"
Running away and forcing all the labour onto him with nothing but a note. But now… He was in his palm. He made sure Caius had nowhere else to go.
He scowled, feeling a mix of resentment and bitterness as his feet scraped against the carpet.
He knew he should have just killed him when he had the chance.
He scrolled through his phone again, trying to calm himself down, pausing on another conspiracy theory post. The same shit- people would buy anything that's told in a way that benefited them.
But then, as he was about to close the screen, he paused. A voice, soft but distinct, seemed to whisper from the shadows.
"...Thank you, Caius."
He froze.
He immediately turned around. 'Who the hell..?'
The chill of the room deepened.
His heart skipped a beat as his eyes pierced through the darkness, as they darted around, searching the dark corners.
Nobody.
His breath caught in his throat. He blinked, his eyes darting to the corners of the room, under the desks, hidden in the shadows. The silence suffocated him. Had he heard that? Or was it just his mind playing tricks?
He paused, staring at the shadows in front of him... Only his shadowy outline was visible in the waving trees and darkness... No one outside.
A shiver went down his spine...
But then, with a sigh, he ran a hand through his black hair.
"Ah… hallucinations. I must be overworking myself. I should take a break tomorrow."
In the corner of his eye, he noticed a bit of skin peeling from his hand, revealing a scar on top of a slightly lighter flesh.
It's about time to visit the Skin Maker again.
Caius sighed. The guy was strange. The last time he'd been in their facility, he found a skinless corpse hanging upside down above the urinal in the bathroom.
It was awkward peeing and making eye contact at the same time.
He shivered, as the moonlight above the bookshelves cast an eerie shadow on his face, before composing himself again. He had an entire night before he had to visit the weirdo again anyway.
Using the tall mirror in the back of the room, he made sure nobody was looking.
He shifted a painting, revealing a keypad. After a few taps, remembering to avoid the pattern that opened to a normal safe instead, a secret door was opened, leading down.
Caius cleared his throat. "Glory to Malzaphor."
The voice releasing systems automatically activated themselves, as the stairwell of death turned into a way to the paths beneath the city.
But as he removed his cloak, he failed to notice the shadow flickering outside the abandoned cathedral.
Caius, oblivious to the eyes that lingered, stepped further into the darkness.