Medieval

Deus X

by David GianatasioApril 7, 2022

You squirm on the altar, hands bound behind your back, lashed to a golden column topped by the Great One's fierce, fanged features.

When your God arrives, His crimson wings beat like thunder, shaking the temple to its core.

You gasp, braced for teeth and talons to sever meat from bone. But the agony never comes.

Instead, the Divine Being devours the high priests. Their blood spills like wine across the sanctuary floor.

"Virgins are too rare for My taste," your Creator snorts, picking his fangs with an acolyte's femur.

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