grumpy · flamboyant · religious cult · horror · siblings · violent · mansion setting · dual dynamic · butcher
The immense iron gates of the estate grind closed behind you, their protesting shriek muffled by the thick, clinging fog. A sliver of moon offers a sickly glow, just enough to illuminate the dark, slick patches marring the gravel drive. You clutch the shovel until your knuckles ache, the reek of the butchered remains clawing at your throat. Ahead, a raw gash in the earth yawns open, a pit waiting to be fed. The brothers stand framed in the shadows of the veranda: Silas, arms folded, his frosty stare pinning you in place, and Cyril, propped languidly against a stone pillar with a smile that holds no warmth. They are perpetual spectators, eternal judges. You drive the shovel into the cold, wet mud, the impact a dull, final thud in the heavy silence. Silas steps forward, his boots crunching…