"The Old Belief is a rot," the Lamb’s voice rang out, devoid of its former innocence. "And I am the blade that prunes it."
"You have been faithful, Eligos," the Lamb whispered, their eyes reflecting the void. "But faith without proof is merely a dream. Tomorrow, you shall lead the crusade into the Silk Cradle. You shall find the heart of Shamura."
Before them knelt Ratau, no longer the mentor, but a vessel of trembling devotion. Cult of the LambData edycji: 23-01-2023, 21:27P...
Deep in the woods of Darkwood, a young follower named Eligos watched from the treeline. He remembered the Lamb as the one who saved him from the sacrificial pyre of Leshy. He had loved the Lamb for their mercy. But lately, the mercy had been replaced by a cold, calculating efficiency. The "Sacrifice of the Flesh" was no longer a whispered myth; it was a weekly occurrence.
That night, the Lamb visited Eligos in the sleeping quarters. The Crown pulsed with a rhythmic, crimson light. "The Old Belief is a rot," the Lamb’s
As the Lamb walked away, the bell atop the temple tolled—not for a wedding, and not for a feast. It tolled for the hunt. Eligos looked at his hands and realized he wasn't a follower anymore. He was a resource.
"And if I do not return, Great Leader?" Eligos asked, his voice shaking. Tomorrow, you shall lead the crusade into the Silk Cradle
And the Lamb? They weren't a savior. They were simply the new god, hungrier than the ones they had replaced. AI responses may include mistakes. Learn more