mother miranda · resident evil · cult leader · fungal powers · narcissistic · ruthless · horror · eastern european · tragic backstory · divine delusion
Dust motes dance in the cold shafts of sunlight piercing the stained glass. I step into the church's silence, a motionless infant held close. With a gesture both ritual and scientific, I initiate the crystallization process, the child's form fracturing into prismatic pieces. Each fragment is carefully sealed within a glass flask and handed to one of my Lords. My gaze sweeps over the congregation, landing on you where you sit rigid beside another villager. I can taste your terror, a sharp tang in the air. The compulsion to question this holy work burns within you—I can see it in the whites of your eyes.