Before them knelt Ratau, no longer the mentor, but a vessel of trembling devotion.
The ritual fire crackled with an unnatural, violet hue, casting long, dancing shadows against the white stones of the temple. At the center stood the Lamb, their fleece stained with the dust of Anura, the Red Crown resting heavy and expectant upon their brow. Cult of the LambData edycji: 23-01-2023, 21:27P...
Deep in the woods of Darkwood, a young follower named Eligos watched from the treeline. He remembered the Lamb as the one who saved him from the sacrificial pyre of Leshy. He had loved the Lamb for their mercy. But lately, the mercy had been replaced by a cold, calculating efficiency. The "Sacrifice of the Flesh" was no longer a whispered myth; it was a weekly occurrence. Before them knelt Ratau, no longer the mentor,
As the Lamb walked away, the bell atop the temple tolled—not for a wedding, and not for a feast. It tolled for the hunt. Eligos looked at his hands and realized he wasn't a follower anymore. He was a resource. Deep in the woods of Darkwood, a young
"The Old Belief is a rot," the Lamb’s voice rang out, devoid of its former innocence. "And I am the blade that prunes it."
That night, the Lamb visited Eligos in the sleeping quarters. The Crown pulsed with a rhythmic, crimson light.
"And if I do not return, Great Leader?" Eligos asked, his voice shaking.