The Pantheon of Everlasting Eclipse
Horrors of the south
A figure reeling over spouts a thick black vicious ooze from her face. Black bubbles boil in her eye sockets as they become an escape for the contamination within her.Möge der Mond das Licht bedecked.
Möge die Dämmerung uns gefangen nehmen.
Möge sich unser Seelenopfer lohnen
Mögest du die Dunkelheit von innen zusammenpressen
Chants from the many onlookers are directed toward the girl, a tone as harsh as the suffering she must be going through. The vacancy of any screams adds to the unpleasantry of the situation, though instead the grotesque gargling and smothered coughing of the girl seems to echo on the beach. Black sand eats at her feet, steam...no smoke emerges from below her. A closer inspection of her legs reveals boils pushing against her skin from the inside. One pops as the blood oozes out, quickly evaporating into a gunpowder-coloured smoke as it makes contact with the ooze by her feet.
Ach, die Dunkelheit nimmt sie.
Ach, die große Gottheit bemächtigt sich ihrer.
Ach, die ist sie gereinigt.
Ach, die ist sie frei
Black rings emit golden lights upon the heads of the chanters; blackened robes drape toward the coastal sands give a subtle sway as the salty breeze brushes past calmly. One may think that this sight before them was a flock of great birds staring down a prey, yet the black feathered wings belong to those of people, not beast. Toward the midday sky a singular moon, many times the size of Romeo, hovers in place covering Pelor's chariot. A great halo of red light flares up behind the moon casting a red hue over the beach. The dancing shadows of the onlookers waltz in the red light drawing my eyes to the more sporadic shadows of the girl's movements. Her fingers bend and curl in fast and abnormal ways, a tremor of pain looking for escape at the edges of her fingertips. The rest of her body trembles and shivers, the black blood of whatever is inside her still leaking through her face toward the ground.
Jetzt ist die Zeit der Erlösung
Jetzt ist die Zeit des Sieges
Jetzt ist die Zeit des Lebens
Jetzt ist die Zeit des Todes
Her body seizes back, her spine contracting till the back of her head hits her knees. Viscous ooze flings from her face into the sky leaving various toxic hissing as it collides back with the land. The chanting ceases to an abrupt silence as their wings flare open toward the girl. Her face finally starts to clear as the final ooze drips from her face, the look of calmness in her eyes, of relaxation on her lips, of peace upon her rosy cheeks are the only heavenly sight in view. She is beautiful. She slowly opens up her mouth, saliva mixed with drops of her blackened blood drop from her mouth as she stares to whichever heavens she has narrowly missed visiting.
She passes
She lived
She is a vessel
She is welcome.
Upbeat murmurs rise through the crowd. The girl still, paralyzed in ecstasy, stationary as a statue blinks slowly. And when her blessed rest comes to an abrupt end, she didn't have time to react as great black wings sprout violently from her back. An explosion of blood and feathers as meter-long wings open up to their full size, larger than any of the crowd, each wing individually larger than her own body. She slowly tests them, like a child subconsciously testing the weight of their first sword. Black blood drips down her nose down to her now sinister lips. They move though I cannot hear what sound they make. Then she laughs, almost mocking the confusion that is now bubbling from her onlookers.
Now is my time to leave I think. I have seen enough horrors for many scholarly lives. Though as I then chose to leave, a final peak back toward the beach revealed the chaos of the procedure, frantic wings flapping and feet running away from the girl. I cannot take my eyes off the her as she raises into the air, still laughing, though I can detect a touch of tears in her cackles. Finally, as if this event needed to reach some demonic conclusion, a black tendril seemingly formed from the same viscous liquid as before sprouts from the girls mouth reaching high into the sky, it searches for something. Then it finds what it. It launches towards the chest of the girl as her black heart is ripped from the ribcage. A brief look of surprise as the girl surely awaits some death. Yet death must be as frozen in shock as I, because after a short period of nothingness, the girl laughs once again.
Now is really my time to leave. I shall never return to this cursed island. No thank you.
South Folimia
A fairly large island called 'Twilight' houses the Pantheon of the Everlasting Eclipse, it resides below Folimias primary island and is a scarce land of sandy coasts, jagged rocks and grey snow. Not much is known of this pantheon, it was popularised as a method of life ultimatums, a way to restart a life better forsaken to death. It provides a second chance at living, at who you are, what you want to be, and at what you wish for. People of all ages flock to the island when they believe their life is better in the hands of a deity other then any God or Goddess of death. They offer their soon-expired lives to unknown deities who bless or curse the people as they see fit.Some fates are worse then death.
There is no fate worse then offering yourself to Twilight.
