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Writer's picturenirufe

Cult of the Serpent god | Part II


Bonelike ropes in a bundle

Klara walked the familiar forest path to the Jorma siblings' remote cottage, a hamper filled with offerings for the initiation ritual in hand. She tread lightly, not wanting to disturb the silence that perpetually surrounded the ancient home. As the small thatched roof hovel came into view, Klara felt the prickle of being watched. The Jorma siblings had an uncanny knack for detecting arrivals before they were seen or heard. Sure enough, the faded yellow door creaked open, and Klara was beckoned inside by Annalie's clawlike, rheumatic hand, its skin thin as parchment and spotted with age.


The interior was dim and close, smelling of dried herbs and smoke. Hunched by the fire was Ehsten, Annalie's elder brother. Though likely nearing a century in age, the siblings were spry and keen of mind. Annalie took the hamper from Klara’s hands, inspecting its contents closely, while Ehsten muttered something monotone song into the flames. The items - blood of a boar, charred rowan branches, bone shards - were ritual ingredients prescribed by the Jormas. Klara shivered, feeling the weight of eons pressing down as the siblings communed in unspoken tongues. Klara had glimpsed the abyssal power they wielded, threading fates and shaping destinies. Tonight, Mikael would also undergo their visionary initiation into hidden worlds.

watercolor splatter

Annalie limped over to the boiling iron pot hung over the fire, tossing in the ritual ingredients one by one. The blood sizzled and popped, the rowan blanched the bubbling water, and the bone shards disappeared into the unholy soup. Klara stood uncertainly, not knowing if the siblings required anything more of her. The humid cottage and strange fumes made her head spin. She blinked, realizing suddenly that the single small window had gone dark. Hours had passed, though it felt like mere moments. Klara needed to hurry back before full night fell.


Without a word, she slid towards the yellow door, the warped floorboards silent under her soft steps. The Jorma siblings remained hunched over their brew, already lost again in their secret arts. Klara emerged into the cool forest air with relief, quickening her pace along the winding path back home. The initiation was soon to begin.

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