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“a riddle, preacher and lamb. how can an earthly being become divine?”
gary miller does not consider himself a particularly pious man, regardless of the cross he wears and the cassock that rustles with each step he takes further into the cult of buer’s den. he has memorized the scripture from the time he was ten, yes, the sacred words of christ seared into his brain, but his silver tongue wields itself as a blade instead of a gilded harp, sharp and acrid where there should be sweet plainchant. he finds no sanctity in dogma and unquestioned reverence; to call his sermons and debates “unconventional” is to make an understatement.
but he knows divinity; he knows it intimately; he knows it like the very heart that beats loud and slow in his chest. divinity has pulsed in his veins from the moment his mother bestowed upon him the very cane he wields now—acacia with a hollow core, containing minced angelica and a hidden, silvered blade. the wide, sunken eyes and trembling limbs of the cultists around him show no divinity. he does not deign the question with an answer. instead, he holds tight to amy’s hand and presses forward.
“some decide to take their pound of flesh and consume it.”
still, gary stays silent, the gentle, repetitive thud of his cane the only herald of his arrival. he stares forward, head level, and wills himself not to glance at the tens of figures in front of him, the way their bodies seem to contort in the flickers of lantern-light that amy holds. further down the line, the cultists’ limbs grow longer under their robes, their hands shoot out with grasping, spindly fingers, yet recoil at the last moment—not yet, not yet; they delay their gratification. gary’s stomach churns as amy’s hand turns clammy with sweat, and he pulls her closer to him as they walk.
“some whisper psalms and murmur hymns upon fresh bodies to warm them.”
incoherent whispers and giggles coat the air with a static-y blanket of noise, but malice drips from every sound. the crackle of joints becomes louder as fingers multiply and spread into antlers that trail up the arms and shoulders, the cultists leering over the two measly humans who dare to oppose their leader. cervine faces grin with human teeth.
“some only find it in forgotten places without honor, where terrible deeds still etch themselves into the land itself.”
at this point, the braying, groaning mess of limbs and fur in gary’s periphery actively lunges for him and amy, only to recede like some eldritch tide. she bites her lip so hard it bleeds, and the lantern rattles softly with how her hand trembles. to her credit, she does not scream, and she does not run, but she squeezes gary’s hand so tightly it cuts off circulation. he cannot blame her.
the lantern’s feeble light reflects upon stained marble, a dais that has seen many sacrifices. if gary is not careful, it just might see two more. the swarms of cultists on either side of the room writhe at a feverish pace, congealing and blocking off the exit. in the gloom before him, just where the lantern’s light can’t fully reach, gary swears he sees a boy with chestnut brown hair and hazel eyes... but michael’s figure vanishes when a hooded figure takes his place. when the man lifts his head, wide, haunted blue eyes bore into gary’s own with an intense hatred that betrays the calm smile upon his lips.
“and sometimes… all it takes is one wrong step .”
his droning voice cuts through the demonic chorus that uplifts and amplifies his words. amy makes to move forward, an attempt at bravado, but with a gentle, subtle tug of her hand, gary cautions her. his grip on his cane tightens, his scowl deepens. now is the moment of judgment.
the lantern’s light flickers, and darkness claims the room for one split second. when his eyes train back on the dais, the man is gone. on instinct, gary whirls around, amy following suit. now barely six inches before them, the hooded man’s smile splits into a grin that bares his teeth and strains the muscles of his face—the beginnings of a withering façade.
"good evening, gary. good evening, amy. it’s a pleasure to finally meet you both.”