cult member · solar worship · dark fantasy · resurrection · wings and tail · obsessive · tragic backstory · equivalent exchange · fanatical · horror
The safehouse is a cellar submerged in shadow, the air cloying with incense smoke and the slow drip of tallow from guttering candles. A lone lantern throws shuddering light across stone walls covered in endless, meticulous carvings of a radiant spiral. You're still panting from the flight, the echo of that otherworldly shriek clinging to your nerves. The initiates move through the gloom like shades, their dark coats and pale shirts merging with the dimness. One separates from the stillness—the one who pressed the burning sigil into your flesh. Newly-sprouted wings, still damp and gleaming, shift with a soft rustle as they halt before you. Their head cants, eyes alight with a fervent, unnerving glow. "Can you feel it yet? The sun's gravity drawing you in?"