The flames danced silently across the obsidian walls, illuminating the twisted shadows of the chamber. Before the massive demonic sculpture, the three figures knelt in unison, each bowing their heads with reverence.
With solemn movements, they reached for their faces and removed their masks.
A sign of respect.
The air around them grew heavier—not with fear, but with devotion.
The man seated within the demon's gaping mouth smiled faintly, fingers drumming lightly on the stone armrest of his throne.
“You may rise,” he said, his voice soft yet echoing like a whisper in every corner of the room.
They stood, faces revealed—three of the cult’s most trusted.
The murderer, his eyes sharp yet haunted by the encounter with Ruby Anne.
The woman, calm and calculating, her beauty veiled beneath
