The stained-glass windows of St. Cecilia’s, usually a riot of sunlit color, were now stained a sicky, charcoal grey by the light of the eclipse moon.
This was not the gentle silver of a normal full moon, but a bloodless, ancient light that passed through the panes not as illumination, but as a chilling, geotric invasion. It laid cold, sharp bars of grey across the sanctuary’s stone floor.
In the center of the mosaic, near the altar rail, the Bishop lay crumpled. His ivory and gold vestnts were soaked dark, the crimson of his own blood blooming on the pale stone.
He wasn’t praying; he was shuddering, his body vibrating with a fear so profound it bordered on agony. His eyes, wide and fixed, were glued to the lanky figure floating just above the ground before him.
The figure was a man he knew, an old friend, a man of belief who had devoted his all to the Almighty. But sothing changed him, losing his beloved wife and daughter to the plague, absence of grace from his god during this ti of despair and agony, filled him with resentnt, allowing darkness to corrupt his mind and engulf him.
The man was clad in a voluminous, moss-green long coat, and his long wild beard seed to writhe in the lunar draught. His arms were spread wide, cruciform, but it was not a posture of blessing; it was a posture of possession.
The air around him did not hum, it cracked. His skin was stretched taut, ghastly pale, and beneath it, sothing terrible was happening.
Thick, ropy veins had popped out, coiling like blue-black wire across his forehead and down his neck, throbbing with a power that wasn’t his. His eyes were not visible, having rolled completely back into his head, leaving only twin, ghastly whites.
And then a sound ca-a low, grinding vibration that started in his chest and seed to travel up his chest, bypassing his vocal cords. The voice that issued forth was not human; it was a layered sound, like stone breaking beneath the ocean.
"Why do you struggle so much, little man of light...the God you seek has left you all. Look around...their faces that seek salvation, has crumbled and withered with realization of the lies being fed in the na of light..." The voice bood, echoing off the high gothic arches as he said pointing at the bodies of the followers sprawled around on the floor, drowned in blood.
"Look at this friend of yours, too much light had blinded his eyes...he has now found solace in the darkness under our domain." The floor beneath, the centuries old foundation of the church began to vibrate and shake, from the sheer, raw power of the eclipse beast speaking through its unwilling vessel.
"Y-you evil monster! No matter how much you torture , your darkness cannot veil the light within . I’d rather die than giving you what you want!" the Bishop bellowed, gathering the last drops of his courage and devotion.
"You thought your God could hide you behind these glass and stone," the possessed man rasped, tilting its head; a movent that should have snapped his neck.
A shadow, deeper than the moonlight, peeled off the green coat and seed to reach for the bishop. "We are the hunger beneath the silence, the darkness that even light fears. And now, you will listen and you shall obey."
GAK!!
The man’s neck started swelling. He chocked on sothing that was trying to reveal itself in that place deed of the light. His mouth opened wide as two thick, slimy tentacles poured out.
The bishop’s face drained. Before a single word could co out of his mouth, the tentacles pierced through his temples. His eyes from the corner started turning crimson, blood flowed out like tears from the corners.
His body straightened up, the feet left the floor as he now hanged in the air by those tentacles, whimpering and shaking violently.
The possessed man’s palm split open in the middle, blood stread out, dripping below on the mosaic, revealing a wide opened mouth with rows of teeth lined at the edges.
A small, dark crimson centipede crawled out from within. With its retrograde-wave gait, it creeped towards the bishop, entering inside through the wide opened mouth of his.
The bishop’s shaking intensified, almost on the border of a seizure. After a few seconds, the shaking stopped, calmness returned to his deanor.
He was slowly brought down. Just as his feet touched the floor, the tentacles pulled out and were retrieved back inside.
The bishop’s eyes opened wide. His pupils contracted as the iris changed color to dark black. Without a second of hesitation, he imdiately kneeled on the floor, bowed his head towards the possessed man in the air.
"My liege." The bishop’s spoke in a rasp voice. The skin on his temples, through which the tentacles had pierced in, started sizzling and healed at a rapid pace.
"Tell what I want to hear now."
"It’s towards the south. He didn’t know the exact location, but the last place in his mories is the city in the mountains, the lair of the wind dragons, Zephyros." The controlled bishop said respectfully.
"Hmm...alright. There’s nothing more it seems. Go ahead, you can feast now."
Just after those words left his mouth, the corners of the controlled Bishop’s lips lifted into a wide grin. His body jolted and blood burst out of all the orifices and pores of his body. The head burst opened, revealing an empty socket.
The centipede then moved towards the other bodies lying lifeless and started his feast.
"What are your orders, lord Rahukin?" A young man with undeniable handsoness, sharp, sculpted features and a strong jawline. His eyes the color of sumr sky, and framing his face were cascades of long blond hair, falling in soft waves past his shoulders, ca forward as he bowed and questioned.
"The dragons are not an easy foe. Infiltrating their ranks will be far perilous. Scout the city first. Find weaknesses and loopholes in the system. Take your ti, but make no mistakes. I want it no matter what!" His rasp voice reverberated within the space. Shaking the structure as motes of dusts escaped out the joints.
"I understand." The blonde man bowed respectfully, accepting the command.
"What about the escapee?"
"You need not worry my lord. Shade has dealt with him."
"And what is the progress regarding the collection?"
"It will be done soon my lord. Rapha is on it." A middle-aged man in a dark crimson plated armor, his grey hair tied into a bun behind, his defined jawline adorned with a light grey beard and one eye covered behind a patch said, coming out of the dark behind.
"I want that child anyhow. She is the key for the sanctum to open. Make sure your missions are successful at any rate. I want no mistakes to occur here."
"As you command, lord Rahukin!" The two of them collectively said and bowed, accepting his command.
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