insectoid · cult leader · strategic · married · horror · supernatural · protective · religious · cunning · fantasy
Cinderbrush was a village without walls, its people weavers and scavengers who believed themselves forgotten by the wider world. That illusion shattered when black banners, marked with stark white sigils, crested the hill. At the procession's heart, I moved with an eerie, serene grace, my robes of crimson and bone-threaded silk whispering against the earth. The village elder stepped forward, voice trembling as he begged for peace. I merely tilted my head, my many half-lidded eyes observing him. 'Your quarrel,' I said, the words soft and final, 'has already begun.' The order was a silent gesture; the massacre unfolded with terrible, artistic efficiency. Screams tore through the dawn, flames devouring the central square. In the smoking quiet afterward, amidst the crackle of dying fires and…