Torches hung around a village in the middle of the night. They lit a path as the wild winds tried to extinguish the flames.
All the houses remained empty and pitch black with the exemption of the torches hung by the doors.
Synchronized chants could be heard as a group marched towards the center of the village.
Some hummed while others played with drums to match the rhythm of the march. Occasionally a distant howl or hoot could be heard.
Some held beautifully crafted torches with vibrant robes adorned with gold. Others wore masks of beasts; they cackled as they ran around cracking whips.
The cold breeze brought forth the first snowflake. The temperature significantly dropped but the flames kept the villagers warm.
Their native chants didn't stop until everyone stood in the middle of the village. There stood an old crone, behind her was a giant bonfire with a tall wooden statue commemorating their Goddess on fire.
The wooden statue stood at a height of 8 feet. It's outline and features couldn't be made out due to the tall tree's and flame's shadows. It almost seemed to change forms.
They stood in silence, the sounds of wilderness and crackles of the fire offering comfort. The old crone then rose her right hand, holding a decorative dagger and slashed her left palm.
Blood dripped onto the stone floor where a carved thin linear pattern formed a crescent moon.
The statue's shadow loomed over the old crone in the center as the villagers encircled her. The villagers then began to fervently chant while those with the masks of beasts cracked their whips wildly. The bonfire's flame bellows as the tall statue is engulfed in the wild flames.
The howls of beasts could be heard as the villagers madly played with their instruments. The winds grew stronger trying to extinguish the flames and the snowfall immediately turned into a snowstorm.
Inches of snow began to layer upon each other but a perfect circle encompassing the villagers remained unperturbed and warm.
The chants become louder and louder until the old crone rose her right hand in a tight fist with blood running down her wrist and staining her robe. The flames died down revealing the charred wooden statue.
Another villager donned with a silk dress approached the old crone holding a golden chalice with a mysterious liquid that glittered under the fire's and moonlight's lights.
The old crone held up the chalice to the sky then drank the mysterious liquid, her bony fingers wrapped around the chalice but upon finishing. She dropped to her knees and began dry heaving.
Wrenching and gagging her body instinctively trying to hurl. She let out a deep gasp as her head twitched upwards, her eyes daunted by the moon.
She screamed in utter fear, for she had witnessed a God's Prerogative in motion. Tears ran down her face as she her dug her nails in her scalp trying to escape from her nightmare.
She screeched in utter pain as her brain could not handle such visions. Visions of bloodshed, unimaginable pain, and sorrow.
Her eyes became bloodshot as she tore out her hair as if it would alleviate her from the harrowing realization that a Primal God committed the blasphemy of enacting it's will upon the world.
The villagers stood there paralyzed, unsure what to do until the old crone stood up and ran to the chieftain clutching his robes.
"THEY STOLE- "
The old crone coughed as she felt a bloody lump in her throat. Her pupils shaking erratically, she put her hands on her throat and began cackling like a mad woman.
"OH YOU POOR HOMUNCULUS! FATE HAS DEALT UNTO YOU A TRAGEDY!"
She clutched her stomach as if she had been gutted.
"P-PAIN! OH UNIMAGINABLE PAIN. PAIN FOR THE SAKE OF THE PRIMAL GOD! THERE IS NO ESCAPE FOR YOU! FOR DEATH HAS SHUT IT'S GATES FOR YOU!"
The visions were morbid. A homunculus brought forth into the world to enact their Primal God's Prerogative. She felt it's pain as if it was hers.
The tearing of limbs, breaking bones, seared flesh. Her mind felt fragment as knowledge of an alien world was forced inside her head.
A world dominated by man.
She twisted her neck towards the statue and kneeled. She didn't understand if the fractured visions were true or she had gone truly mad.
The prophetic visions made too much sense but was unbelievably world shattering that she refused to believe. The old crone prayed to her God.
She fervently rubbed her forehead against the stone floor drawing blood.
The Divine Foresight stopped and the old crone sighed in relief. Just as the relief set in she looked up to the blue moon only for her heart to stop.
The blue moon shone a blood red. The beasts of the woods roared, yipped, and cried in warped agony.
All the torches were smothered out by the uncaring winds leaving only the statue's flame ablaze. A harrowing red light enveloped the villagers leaving them murmuring to themselves in fear.
Some villagers began to pray on their knees as the red moon signified that their God had been wounded.
They felt the prickly winter winds as the perfect circle was encroached by the snow.
The old crone had no choice but to swallow the truth. A dark age was coming. An already chaotic world embroiled with strife and civil war will see the birth of a monster.
She began cackling and tearing up. Standing up she raised her arms looking towards the bloody moon.
"OH FLAMES EMBRACE THE WORLD! THE TIES OF THE PROPHETIC IMMERSION HAS BEEN SEVERED!"
She stood up close looking at the charred burning statue in pity.
The chieftain had enough and stepped forward.
"O'phair! What are you say-"
His words caught in his mouth as the old crone jumped into the flaming pit. It devoured her and the flame burned brighter.
Pained hysterical laughes echoed throughout the village.
"I PRAY FOR THE PITIFUL SOULS WHO WILL FACE THE COLOSSAL TIDES OF THE GODS. THEIR MOVES HAVE BEEN IN MOTION FOR CENTURIES!"
She raised her arms and pointed towards the moon in a crescent shape.
"A MONSTER WILL STEP FOOT IN THESE LANDS. DEVOUR OR FLOURISH! I KNOW NOT OF THIS ABOMINATION! THIS..! THIS MONSTER OF GOD!"
The villagers ran to the wells to put out the flames. A haunting cackle echoed throughout the village. The flames engulfed the old crones figure and her maniacal laughs stopped.
The statue's fire was then finally extinguished leaving the villager's only source of light the bloody moon.