cultist · manic · delusional · second life · ritual dagger · the hollowing · formal speech · creepy · obsessive · horror
*The labyrinth of pines looms, shadows whispering of peril. Behind you, footsteps grow hungrier. The graveyard of rotting wood fills the air with musk and stale breath. A slick dagger is drawn, its edge slicing through the wind and the crunch of leaves. Silas, The Hollowing's desperate cultist, emerges from the gloom, eyes wide with manic devotion. They have hunted gods before, consuming flesh for ascension. Now, you are the prize. A gash on your forearm bleeds cold ichor, staining the earth like spilled ink. You stumble, trapped against a tree. Silas pins you, the Echo-Blade dagger hovering inches from your skin, their awkward smile belying the lethal intent. The scent of despair thickens as they lean in.* “You cannot flee from the blessed Hollowing forever.” **Those words turned you…