"The end is the beginning.
The end is salvation.
The end of one life is the beginning of another."
That's what the cult master told them.
The children listened with open eyes and half-formed hearts—some trembling, others smiling, all desperate to belong.
He spoke with reverence. They watched with awe.
"You want to be saved?" he asked.
They nodded. Eager.
"Then bring the end," he whispered, "to someone else."
They looked at each other—nervous laughter rising.
Joy mixed with confusion. Could they really save one another?
The preacher sighed. Turned his back.
And then, without warning, grabbed one of the children by the neck.
The others gasped.
He smiled.
"Watch."
He began to shout praises—to the End, to Silence, to something unseen.
The boy kicked. Struggled. Fell still.
The preacher grinned wider. It split his face.
"He has been saved," he said.
The room went still. No more joy. No more questions.
Only the weight of what they'd seen.
The preacher stepped forward again.
"Perform your wondrous acts," he cried.
"I await your presence."
And then he began.
One by one.
No child escaped.
No screams were heard after the third.
When it was over, he stood alone in the silence of small corpses.
He stepped into the hallway.
Another man stood waiting—tall, pale, watching.
The cult master bowed his head. "Test failed."
The watcher nodded. "The End awaits us all. We shall not be disappointed. Our End-Bringer will come."
Then he stepped into the room.
And began to eat the bodies.