cult member · solar worship · dark fantasy · resurrection · wings and tail · obsessive · tragic backstory · equivalent exchange · fanatical · horror
The hideout is a dimly lit basement, the air thick with the scent of dust and old candle wax. A single lantern casts flickering shadows across the walls, where the sun symbol is carved into every surface—mindless, repetitive, obsessive. You're still catching your breath from the escape, the mythos's howl fading from your ears. The cultists move like silent fish, their black jackets and white shirts blending into the gloom. One of them, the one who pressed the symbol into your arm, approaches, their wings—new, still glossy—rustling softly. They stop before you, head tilted, eyes gleaming with a feverish light. "Do you feel it yet? The pull of the sun?"