Chapter Text
Under the clear night sky, the waves at the edge of the boardwalk crash softly into wooden pillars and smooth eroded rocks that dot the shore. The smell of sea foam radiates at all hours of the day, but at this hour of night, it is at its strongest, when no one is at the beach. Though that is a lie, as there are people here at this hour. Cloaked in the dark veil of night and in dark colored robes, hooded ponchos, and literal cloaks; a small crowd rushes through the beach.
This congregation, that is roughly thirty strong, trek through the beach, the tide splashing against their feet multiple times, soaking the shoes of those who wore any. Eventually, they reached the secluded cove at the end of the beach, the one that is at the very edge of Anchor Heights' border. The home of the infamous Cove Shack, a small, ancient, wooden shack that was built in the middle of the inlet for unknown reasons. The congregation has reached their destination.
The congregation enters through the open door way one after another in a single file line. The interior of the shack is small and sparsely decorated with only a small wooden table in the center of the shack being of note. Sand covers where the wooden floor would have been, giving an illusion that this structure has sprouted out of the ground like a natural monolith. It is dark, only the light from the moon can barely make it through the opening and cracks in the wall. As the congregation fully enters the shack, they form an incomplete circle around the small wooden table. After forming the circle, the members of this congregation that form the semi circle all look towards the eastern wall, opposite of the doorway. From the eastern wall's shadows, walks out a figure.
Any and all identifying traits of this figure are concealed by their large draping cloak and mask. Their patch-worked cloak, made up of squares of fabric made of varying but equally dark colors, reaches the ground; covering their feet making them appear wider than they may be. Concealing their face is a pure white porcelain colored mask that may even be made of the material. On the mask is an intricate red design of a large eye over the eye holes and two crescents flanking the eye design. The figure approaches the table with the semi-circle of people watching them with their faces concealed by shadow.
"Greetings my fellow children of The Moon." The figure speaks as he approaches, "I am very pleased to see that so many of you could make it tonight." The leader of this congregation reaches the empty space in the semi circle. "As you all must know, tonight is a special night. Tonight is the very night where our goals will finally be put into motion, just as The Moon has foretold." The leader raises their arms and looks to the ceiling, their sleeves drop down but with how dark it is, their skin tone was unable to be seen masking their identity even more.
"Unfortunately," The leader begins, their head now hung low, "for the goals to be put in motion, there had to be a sacrifice." The other members of the congregation now have their heads hung low too. "May tonight's ritual celebrate the contributions of Sister Pérez to our cause." Mumbling can be heard from the congregation. The leader raised their shadowy hand and the mumbling ceased.
"But, you all must remember now," The Leader began to remind the congregation, "while this is a great achievement, the gateway is just one step, without the prophesied lamb, we are out of reach." A follower in a dark brown robe flinched at the mention of this prophesied lamb, yet no one seemed to notice. "So we cannot rest now, we are still far from achieving Paradise. For now though, we can celebrate this achievement." The leader finishes. They scan the congregation with their piercing yet unseen eyes. "Does anyone have any smaller achievements to our goal they would like to share?" The leader scans once more. The congregation is still and silent. "Nobody? Not even you, Sister Smith?" A follower in a black poncho shakes their head. "Oh well then," From an unseen pocket in The leader's robe, they pull out a small jagged knife that appears to be made from clear quartz. "This meeting must come to an end, everyone, pull out your Keystone." Upon the demand, each member of the congregation pulls from their pocket or bag a clear quartz-like stone that is in a rounded triangular shape, as if it is just a quarter of a large circular "Keystone". Each follower placed their own stone on the table they surrounded, putting them in a circular formation. All the followers kept their hands on each of their "Keystones" as the Leader holds their knife above the center of the table. The entire congregation holds their heads low as the Leader mumbles a prayer to themself.
"The Lunar Savior's doorway has been created and when the lamb is sacrificed the town shall be spared."
With all of their might, the Leader stabs the center of the table, leaving the knife able to stand on its own in the wedge it left. The congregation lifts their heads. "We will meet again next week at Sister Pérez's house to discuss further plans." The Leader motions their hands in a shooing motion, "Now, flee into the night, live your lives as normal, fellow children." the congregation leaves single file, just as they entered as the leader stays behind in the dark small shed as they pull their jagged clear quartz-like knife out of the table.
In the crowd of robed followers, one in a dark brown robe separates from the group to the edge of the shore where the tide meets land, the sea water soaking their Converse sneakers. They look out past the horizon and at the moon. They sigh and removes their hood and mask, shaking their bleached shoulder length hair.
"I won't let them get to you, I promised mom, and I will keep that promise." They say to themself, looking directly at the bright full moon.