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The many clocks on the wall set the pace, not a heartbeat nor a second skipped as beady eyes darted across the room meeting the faces of each one. For what has a face but no eyes? Would a worthy vessel be much without its host? Not to imply it was a parasite, of course. But to imply it wouldn’t would be … wrong in a sense. It plagued his mind, his senses and he could only sing praise - and each year they would meet up and play their same game. Find a sacrifice. Make it happy.
But it was so much more than that - To an outsider it would be a cult, a death pact, a deadly faith. To them? Family. A worthy lord that needed to be pleased. See? You're thinking cult right now, aren't you?
A large ballroom, open aired, the pitch black blanket sky staring down in approval. A banquet of gold platters and trims, sweet treats, pastries and meats laid down upon a long table with ability to hold hundreds of guests. A tremendous pipe organ put up against the wall.. How’d they get that into the woods? Wouldn't you like to know. Legend says if you listen hard enough in the chilly january nights you’ll hear them - chanting away. But despite this, all he heard was the ticking clock and small whispers into his ears.