The Demon of Faith screamed.
Not in pain, but in fury. The sound tore through the cathedral, a discordant choir of mouths echoing its rage from every wall and corner.
"Wretched heretics!" it howled, voices overlapping in chaotic reverberation. "You grovel beneath foolish, pitiful gods! They do not hear you! They will not save you! You are insects crawling toward an empty altar!"
It reeled back, several mouths frothing with black ichor as it raised its arms. From a gaping maw near its chest, a glistening black chalice was vomited forth. The object shimmered with a dark, corrupted light as the Demon caught it in both clawed hands.
"This is the end," the Demon snarled, lifting the chalice high above its head. "The Chalice of the Faithless shall drink your hope. It shall—"
Nothing happened.
No thunder. No flame. No blinding surge of power.
Only silence.
The Demon of Faith froze, mouths faltering mid-word. The chalice quivered in its hands.
