Lord of Mysteries: Goddess of Origin

The altar pulsed with a crimson glow, thick with ancient solemnity, Selina and Deimsfel stood face to face—two pieces in a godless game.

With reverent poise, Deimsfel lifted the white veil from Selina's face.

A single seal.

A final revelation.

But in Selina's palm, hidden beneath lace and calm fingers, lay a long silver hairpin—slender, stolen, sacred in its defiance.

As Deimsfel lowered his face towards Selina, the bride's hand shot forward.

A clean, desperate thrust—piercing Deimsfel's heart.

The groom staggered back, eyes widening in shock.

Blood trickled from the puncture, staining the front of his ceremonial garb. His gaze rose to meet hers, bloodshot and burning, smile fading.

"Y-You...!"

Selina stood unwavering. Her lips curled into a soft, almost polite smile.

She have figured the nature of the ritual early on, although the former owner's general knowledge obtained from instances of cult's conversations, as Selina of now, thought of the world circulates in mystical manner, which would include an "act" similar to a wedding. 

This is a reenactment—of their goddess's oath to her divine groom—that would initiate a mystical connection to their goddess, giving Her a chance to descend into Selina as the vessel.

Around them, the congregation shifted.

One by one, the guests, the townspeople, her mother, her father, all have sloughed their disguises—insectile tendrils writhing from split skin, mouths where eyes should be, hands that weren't hands.

They were no longer pretending.

Neither was she.

The abbey darkened as chains erupted from the shadows. Black bats, countless and shrieking, swarmed the air like a plague of curses.

Selina didn't flinch.

She would die here—she had accepted that.

But she had wounded the monster.

She had cracked the ritual.

She had drawn blood for every soul taken before her.

And in that moment—a thundering roar tore through the stained glass, light pierced the everchanging gloom.

...

Tempestuous storm rave in discordance, lightning flash teared through the sky as the howling wind brought forth horrendous downpour.

Hovering above the town is an old man with silver eyes. Wearing a black bonnet, and a black robe embroidered with lightning patterns, he exudes a sense of domination and tyranny.

Clutched in his hand is a metallic rod consisting of a bulging crystal eye propped to its tip and four pointed limbs beneath, streaks of symbol presents an absolute judgement to the living.

With a brilliant light, the metallic rod's illumination encompassed the abbey, and with a solemn voice the old man commanded, "Usage of vampire-related abilities are prohibited."

At an instant, the growing shadows halted in advancing towards Selina.

Standing in front of the abbey, a man wearing an identical robe embroidered with lightning and storms raised an item over his right palm.

It was a lantern made of skull, connected with chains acting as handles, the skull reveals a hallow interior, holding only a glowing orb of heart.

In the second, each heart of the guests in the wedding convocation glowed in heinous crimson hue. Marking their identities as a specific group, all except Selina.

In the distance, a siren voice resounded across the town of Milo.

Each residents of the town shrieked in horror, causing an eruption of voices to sprout in Milo.

Inside of the abbey, members of the cults experienced an intense pain and involuntary convulsion, they felt their body unwilling to move.

Unsteadily regaining his momentum, hands covering the slight wound, Deimsfel glared at Selina before revealing a sinister smile.

His hand rose to his face, transparent insects began to squirm and contort, revealing a strange contradicting mask, its right adorned with peculiar bright smile, eyes curving upward, while its left down casted with sorrow, eyes curving downward.

With a flick of his fingers, he and the man seated at the front pew that appeared to be of southern highlands with a frizzle hair began to wilt and decompose into a pile of wriggling flesh of maggots.

Some guests and residents were able to use an items ranging from a teared garment, a bracelet, and a card suddenly vanished after phasing into a multiple colors, while others were unable to exert their body, feigning submission to the outside force.

Affected by the distant and ethereal siren, Selina tore the extravagant dress from the bodice and removed the headpiece from her silver hair, tossing the veiled garment to the aisle

Heart tearing from her throat, her eyes darted from the grand design of the abbey, the large stained glass of the windows, and the people convulsing in front of her.

She saw recalled that the altar was between two hallways that leads to the back area.

The turbulent sea of storm brought gray and ashen to the vibrant greeneries, Selina navigated through the intensifying darkness, using the walls as her guide she managed to reach the sacristy.

Communion vessels and paraments kept in a order, some resembles a priest's cross while others a tree extending into a woman rooted in a silver cup. 

Ahead is a framed double door, leading to the outside.

Without hesitation, Selina shoved the grand doors open.

A wall of torrential rain greeted her, driven by howling winds that tore through the streets of Milo like a beast unleashed. The hurricane roared, sweeping buildings into chaos and drowning the town in storm and shadow.

She ran—away from the abbey, into the heart of the maelstrom. Her silver-white hair whipped violently in the tempest, strands lashing like loose threads in a world unraveling.

Across the distance, past the twisted grid of roads and buildings, a man screamed for help as half his face peeled away, revealing a writhing hive of maggots beneath. A woman clutched her child, only for her arms to split at the seams, unraveling into pale tendrils like snapped strings.

Selina didn't stop. She couldn't.

Her heart pounded, but her stride never faltered.

These weren't people. They never were.

From alley to street, every familiar face melted into swarms—piles of flesh-tendrils and crawling insect husks that once mimicked the living.

A cold, choking horror rooted itself deep within her—but she kept running.

Above the collapsing town of Milo, high above the storm-wracked streets, an old man with silver eyes hovered in silence. He watched her with unreadable calm, as the imitation of a town dissolved into a colony of vermin.

Next to him, suspended in the air, a man of deep blue eyes, with silver-blue hair and stubbled face inquired in a deep tone, "Captain, should we interrogate that lady?"

"Is it glowing?" the old man responded with a question, lowering his gaze onto the lantern-like skull.

"No."

"Then leave her, the cultists can replace her more effectively" he replied in a stern voice.

...

After a constant running, Selina arrived back in the Ivory's estate.

The heavy rain persisted across the green pastures, tainting the scenery in gray and dark hue.

The manor, remained quiet, undisturbed, drops of water cascades in a downpour, painting the scenery a living grey hue.

Without a thought, she quickly made her way to the manor's front yard and onto the front double door.

A single swing of both of her hand, the two panes swinged open.

Not a single individual can be seen in sight, darkness consumed its interiors.

Selina, soaked in heavy rain entered with urgence, seeing that the manor is truly abandoned, she quickly turned right of the living room.

Her mind in disarray, many of the cult members were able to escape with the use of their artifacts, if given enough time, they will immediately retrieve her while in the manor.

Upon seeing the familiar interception of corridors, she brickly turned right, arriving in the stair reaching the upper main block. 

Ascending a flight, she ran towards the manor's Northern Wing, pushed the knob open, and entered her room.

There, the leathered suitcase remained on the undraped mattress of the bed, it consists of a small donation of pounds and clothes. Now the only thing its missing is a weapon for self-defense.

As she walk, Selina untied her hair, the silky white strands fell into a flowing grace before made her way towards the closet, drying herself with a towel momentarily as she changed into a pair of white blouse with minimal frills and a long slender black trousers starting from her abdomen to her ankles, then covering it with a piece of white skirt.

After doing this, she took a long sunhat, and strode off into the manor's Southern Wing, carrying her leathered suitcase.

Forcibly entering the office, Selina rummaged the drawers of the desk, pulling out a 45mm brass revolver and a box of ammo. Opening the brass revolver's cylinder, she saw three rounds of silver gray bullets, ensuring that the gun is loaded, she stored them in her leathered case, before exiting the room.

Navigating the hallway of the upper Main block, descending to the Southern wing and finally arriving at the lounge room, the grand double door to her right.

With everything prepared, as soon as she exit from the grand door, she'll leave everything behind, only carrying the memories of her family and friends in her heart.

Just as she push the door, a familiar voice resounded from the hallway ahead.

"Leaving so soon?"

A man wearing a tuxedo and a white shirt underneath drenched in rain stood not far from the door. He has a set of deep brown eyes, short black hair, narrow at the forehead and jaw, with a straight nose, and pale skin.

It was Deimsfel, her fiancée.