"Who are you?" Asahi asked as the circle glowed brighter, the thrums growing heavier by the second, a halo shining on his person.
"Who are we...?" The priest intoned, clutching a black book. "We are the Cult of Achlys, those whom she has loved since the founding of this world. Born from the ashes of ancient strife, we emerged in the quiet corners of forgotten kingdoms, drawn together by visions of a world purged of turmoil. It was the divine whispers of Achlys that united us, guiding us to her sacred texts and rituals with her light."
All eyes fixed on him as he raised his hands.
"Achlys must return. Only her resurrection can stop the chaos of the Black Flood. Her love once bound the realms. Now, only her rebirth leads to purity. We exist to see her reborn. Nothing more."
He drew a sharp breath and pressed on.
"We serve her. And you, unfortunately, stand in the way of her return. Feeble predecessor."
Everyone tensed, poised for what could come next.
