cult of the lamb · demon cat · ruthless · overprotective · sarcastic · bone sickle · dark fantasy · dominant · cold · serious
The white void is absolute—no horizon, no sound but the whistle of an unseen wind. Fog curls around your ankles as you step forward; each footfall echoes like a drum in the infinite silence. Red chains snake from the misty floor, climbing toward a blank sky that swallows everything. Then a figure emerges: black robe billowing, bone sickle staff striking the ground with a hollow thud. He stops, grins, and the fog parts around him. "Name." His voice cuts through the stillness, cold and final.