The Risen MoonMature

Pale beams of moonlight oozed between the clouds above the old graveyard on the cliff as the three of them walked, dry dead grass crunching underfoot. There was a chill in the air, and a slight breeze glided between the worn old tombstones towards the battered old chapel by the edge. It was an ancient billing, a piece of Gothic artistry allowed to fall into disrepair, and the once striking grotesques and gargoyles that stood at the tops of the walls were now eroded and worn from the ravages of time.

The leader of the three - a tall man in a silvery-grey suit, with a gaunt face and ice blue eyes that could pierce your soul just by looking at you - marched directly to the chapel doors and stared them down before muttering a few arcane words under his breath and snapping his fingers.

The great doors opened, and the three entered.

The other two were less striking - clad in black suits with white shirts, they glided after the man in grey with resolute faces, focused and calm - without emotion or fear, they followed him forth into the dark expanse of the chapel on the cliff.

The inside of the building would have been a shock to any Christian man who may have wandered in searching for solace and sanctuary - carved into the walls were bizarre words in an unintelligible tongue, and at the end of the chapel was an altar, albeit built from the last who had entered and taken refuge.

It pulsed and bled a faint ichor, moving and writhing more and more as the man in grey neared it - had it had a mouth, it would have screamed out to him, demanding his presence. He could tell - there was a faint vestige of power here; very old, but still alive, if only hanging on by a thread. It was a desperate, bloodthirsty, hungry force that commanded attention and demanded nourishment. Whoever had been used to build this shrine, they were still alive too - but their psyche was overwhelmed constantly, a barrage of cosmic torture blasting through their mind.

And so, the man in the silvery-grey suit extended his arms in reverence and gave his mind away.

The wind howled in the graveyard outside, and the waves crashed as he returned.

The End

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