In the village of Daekhram, the high priest who had started the sacrifice at the altar a few minutes ago felt a wave of magic through his very being.
His lips slowly turned into a smile as if he had reached the peak existence of life. He raised his hands to the sky. The crimson moon started getting darker and darker, and the dark sky began to change.
The color of the sky slowly blended with the color of the crimson moon, having a hue of purple color.
It is an ominous feeling that can send shivers to anyone looking at it. But it was different from the cult member serving this high priest.
They began weeping. Their tears stained the ground. Blood flow like a river. Corpses were laid bare on the altar, and the high priest started his ritual.
He was smiling. It was as if he had received confirmation and grace and that after long years of waiting, it was time.
