Rhys walked among the wordless members, their hooded maroon cloaks hiding their features, their faces hidden by the black masks, adorned only by a bleeding and fiery eye.
Rhys Stopped looking down upon the figure infront of him. They were bloodied and burned, their eyes burned out, and their hands tied behind their back.
“LET IT BE KNOWN WHAT HAPPENS TO THOSE WHO OPPOSE US!” Rhys Voice rang out to the crowd of followers. “THIS WOMAN HERE HAS DARED OPPOSE US, DARED TO SPOUT OBSCENITIES ABOUT OUR GLORIOUS GOD!” Spit flew from his mouth, as his voice washed over the crowd. “SHE DARED TO SAY WE ARE FANATICS, THAT OUR GOD WAS FALSE!” He strode back and forth, a dagger in his hand now. “WHAT DO WE WANT TO DO NOW?”
“JUSTICE TO OUR GOD!” The crowd roared back, anger swelling up from them.
“Justice I will serve then.” Rhys Said now suddenly quieter.
He raised the Dagger above his head. “Oh our lord of fire and our lord of heat, we offer this heretic up to you as proof of our fiery spirit. Please accept our humblest apologies and our unwavering loyalty.”
He brought the dagger down, blood spraying into the air as he neatly cut their throat. Then he raised his hands and fire soared from them, turning the corpse to ash, the musty scent of copper filling the air as their blood boiled and evaporated.”
“Glory To the Incindzka!” The figures roared.
Flashes of fire appeared, and the cultists began to teleport away, leaving the corpses of people, and the burned city behind
Rhys lingered, sneering.
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“Glory indeed.”
Rhys Closed his eyes and appeared in a grand room, adorned with red black and gold, intricate paintings of great beasts, and fiery figures lining the walls.
Rhys knelt in front of the golden throne, breathing out, his red hair waving in a non existent breeze.
“Glorious leader, I have carried out your will as you have commanded.”
“Good.” The raspy voice spoke, causing Rhys to shiver in awe. “And what of the church?”
“The church is silent for now, no doubt planning another attack.” Rhys murmured.
“They shall be dealt with as always.” The voice spoke again.
Rhys nodded and teleported out, appearing in his room. His room in question was a sparsely decorated room, with barely any decoration. He sighed, and then removed his cloak, and undressed, laid down in his bed, closing his eyes and drifting off to a quiet sleep….
But it was not a quiet sleep. It never was.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Flores washed her hair in the sink, the collar of thorns biting into her neck, blood leaking down her shoulders causing her to shiver in delight.
The goddess’ bite was heavenly, a beautiful touch on her cheek, a caress to her neck.
She was the figurehead of her church, she was the one who had found the room with the entombed man, the man in blue black clothing, part of an age long gone, an age of gangs and mobs; He was the Goddesses Love, her divine suitor! The goddess had attacked her the moment she had entered, but she had sworn her fealty to her, promising to awaken the man again, as long as she was given the means and abilities to do so. The goddess had agreed, the thorn collar binding her to the goddess. She was the only one who knew the goddess name;
Pandora….
She shivered with delight just imagining the goddess wrapped in flowers, and thorns speaking to HER! She was honored and humbled.
But she had business to take care of as well. She had to deal with the madmen of the Incindzka! Those fanatics who wished to merge the underworld and the world! She must not allow it to happen, as they would kill her beloved goddess!
She must be allowed to wake.
She strode into the room, where the slumbering beast lay.
“Oh dear beast Cultivated with care and love, I command you to awaken, please. I command you to rid the world of the Fanatics of the Incindzka!”
The beast shifted then rose letting out a growl, its many legs and chitinous legs cracking and crunching, its snake like maw dripping a white fluorescent liquid.
“Go my beloved!” Flores commanded, and the beast left, crashing through the walls, showering plants to the ground.
Flores curled her lip, then turned to the altar behind her; The goddess lay afloat, her eyes closed. She was beautiful, in such a divine way.