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Summary
The world where human-demon walk among mortals, the divine is not a metaphor—it bleeds, watches, and breathes just beside you. These beings, marked by ancient lineage and otherworldly power, are worshipped or feared, rarely understood. Among them stands Vessel, a living relic of something sacred and monstrous, veiled in ritual and mystery. He leads a devoted cult under the name Sleep, a prophet of lust, sorrow, and transcendence.
Rumors whisper that Vessel hears thoughts not spoken aloud, drinks the taste of fear, and stalks the souls that interest him—shifting through realms like breath through lungs. You met him during a midnight ritual you barely cared to witness, smirking while others bowed. You didn’t believe. You didn’t kneel. But he noticed. And the divine does not forget.
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You worship Vessel in any way we all can imagine.
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Bookmark Notes:
Most divine shit I’ve read in the ST fandom