The Unholy Gathering

The church was alive.

Not with faith. Not with devotion.

But with something else—something dark, pulsing, and unnatural.

Rows of kneeling followers filled the sanctuary, their heads bowed, their bodies trembling. Black veins slithered beneath their skin, crawling like living parasites. Their lips moved in a silent chant, their voices swallowed by the thick, suffocating air.

At the altar stood Thomas.

His robes, once white and pure, were now streaked with dark ichor. His face, gaunt from sleepless nights, twisted in pain as he traced the scar over his heart. The second seal.

Beside him, Elias placed a steady hand on his shoulder.

“It’s time,” he whispered.

Outside, the sky darkened.

The eclipse had begun.

Clara’s Race Against Time

Clara’s lungs burned as she ran through the church’s endless stone corridors.

She had minutes—maybe seconds.

The dagger—Father Marcus’s bone, carved into a weapon—was clenched tightly in her fist. It felt warm, as if it recognized the battle ahead.

She didn’t have time to question it.

Thomas was the key.

If she didn’t reach him, if she didn’t stop him before the ritual was complete—

Mara would be unleashed.

And there would be nothing left to stop her.

The Prophet’s Blood

Elias guided Thomas to the altar, where a massive stone basin sat before the congregation.

It pulsed.

Not like something carved from rock—but like flesh.

“The second seal must be broken,” Elias said, his voice soft, almost reverent. “Only your blood can open the path.”

Thomas hesitated.

Everything in his life had led him here.

The miracles. The voices. The calling.

And yet—

Doubt.

For the first time, doubt slithered through his mind.

A voice whispered from his memories.

“It’s not your fault.”

His daughter.

His fingers trembled. “What if this isn’t what God wants?” he murmured.

Elias’s expression darkened.

He pressed a blade into Thomas’s hands.

“This is faith,” he said. “And faith requires sacrifice.”

The Eclipse and the Horror Unleashed

The moment the sun was fully eclipsed, the church trembled.

The followers convulsed.

Their backs arched at impossible angles. Black veins erupted from their skin, spilling dark tendrils that slithered toward Thomas.

And then—

A voice.

Not Elias’s.

Not human.

Ancient. Suffocating.

“You are mine.”

Thomas gasped.

His entire body burned.

The scar over his heart ripped open.

And from inside him—something moved.

A shadowed mass of eyes and mouths, shifting and writhing, its whispering voices hungry and endless.

Mara was awakening.

Clara’s Final Stand

Clara burst into the sanctuary just as Thomas lifted the blade.

“THOMAS, STOP!”

His head snapped toward her.

For a moment—just a moment—his eyes flickered with recognition.

And that was enough.

Clara didn’t hesitate.

She lunged.

The bone dagger drove deep into his chest.

A horrible wail erupted from his lips.

But it wasn’t his voice.

It was hers.

Mara screamed.

Black ichor exploded from Thomas’s wound. The congregation shrieked, their bodies twisting as shadows consumed them.

The entire church shook violently.

Elias stumbled backward, eyes wide with fury.

“You fool!” he roared. “You don’t understand—”

But the walls began to collapse.

And Thomas—

Thomas fell.

The Prophet’s Final Breath

Clara caught him before he hit the ground.

Blood seeped from the wound, staining her hands.

His fingers weakly grasped hers.

“Clara…” he whispered.

His breathing slowed.

For the first time in years—

The voices stopped.

And in the silence—

He smiled.

A single tear—clear, untouched by darkness—slipped down his cheek.

Then—

He was gone.

The Aftermath

The ritual was broken.

But not in the way Elias had intended.

Instead of freeing Mara—Clara had destroyed her vessel.

The congregation withered, their bodies dissolving into dust.

Elias stood frozen, staring at the wreckage in horror.

“You don’t understand,” he whispered. “She isn’t gone.”

Clara slowly stood, her hands trembling.

And then—

A flicker.

A pulse of darkness beneath her skin.

She barely noticed the faint black vein creeping along her wrist.