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“Come on Grelladine! Don’t be such a pussy!”

The woman’s voice vanished into the scrub with her. Grell, however, remained in place. It was as if her doubts had filled her boots with lead. They squelched a fidgety rhythm into the mud as she wondered how she’d even been convinced to come this far.

This wasn’t her scene at all. She was quite happy throwing back suspiciously coloured, flavoured and labelled cocktails back at the club. They had everything she liked there – booze, heavy metal, black light, neon paint – and she wasn’t at all concerned that the locals had deemed it a ‘dyke’ bar. She had no reason to refute the place then, but had she known that she would have ended the night breaking out into wilderness to play a part in a ritual to summon a ‘dark lord’ she probably would have…

As the silent seconds approached minutes and the hoot and crack of nightly creatures began their approach, Grell broke into a run to the nearest source of safety. She ran after the woman, into the scrub; the blackness and the rustling and the prickling taking over her every sense. She wished to God that she had worn something more conservative; the hip-length tutu and corset was no barrier to the thorns.

Grell called after the woman multiple times as she made her way through the thick undergrowth, even stumbled over a few branches, but never once got a response. She started to doubt that she was going the right way until the light of a campfire bristled through the darkness. Grell walked toward it slowly, as if enchanted, and came across a scene that made her question time and space.

It was as if she had been transported into the dark ages. Pink, vertical bodies writhed like serpents, pirouetted like dragonflies on a circle of established rock. At its centre was the fire, blazing brightly against the silhouettes of their naked forms. Grell pursed her lips and blushed as deeply as her crimson hair. Just what had she come across?

Another quiet night, quiet and dull. Nothing ever seemed to happen where Sebastian was concerned, other than his random encounters with Myk. Not paying much attention to where his feet were taking him, Sebastian mulled over his memories, how he had believed Myk to be a woman for a long time, only realizing the man was a man the day he saw him topless, and a sudden awkwardness had came over the necromancer due to all the flirting that had taken place up until that point. He didn't want to stop being friends with Myk, quite the opposite, but Myk was still flirting even though Sebastian had stopped. Sighing softly, he was glad for his new friend, and the attention was flattering.

Before Sebastian knew it, he had wandered to the edge of the wilderness, trees standing tall before him. Standing there, staring at them, he dithered over entering the area of nature. He had not heard for a very long time of anyone being attacked by the Fae out there, despite that being their place to live, or so the rumours held. With the decision, nodding slowly to himself, for noone else was there to see the nod, the necromancer put one foot in front of the other and crossed the threshold, passing beyond the barrier made of trees.

It wasn't long, maybe twenty minutes or so at a leisurely pace, before he heard voices, a girl shouting, and then crashing through the undergrowth between the trees. Intrigued, as the girl sounded almost in a state of panic to him, he followed the sounds until he came to a small clearing, seeing all those girls naked and on their knees, writhing their bodies like snakes. As arousing at the picture was, he knew whatever was going on here was occult in nature. At the far end of the clearing, just coming in through through the growth of long grass there, stood the one and only girl still clothed, to him seeming as if she was both mesmerized and confused by what she was witnessing. What he realized she couldn't see, but he could, was a ritual altar, or more a sacrificial altar, by the size of it, with leather manacle restraints, and a sacrificial athame resting upon it. The image before him did not bode well for one of the girls here, and his guess it was the girl at the back, still clothed.

During their chanting, a name was recurring from the lips of the mass of girls, a name her recognised from his extensive research in to the occult he had started several months before he had been sired that night in the warehouse by Velveteen. The name was a pagan blood deity, which meant that they were making a sacrifice to try and summon him, have him grant them power. From what he remembered of the description, Sebastian realized he could very easily pose as their god, but he would have to wait until the girl was dying before appearing. He was cursed, sucking up the colour and joy from things around him, his body acting as a conduit in to the fade, which if his memory served him correctly, this god they were worshiping, was also reported to have the same effect whenever he had appeared throughout the ages, all in his presence feeling a sudden surge of dread, feeling they were about to die, or suffer for all eternity. He stood there, watching, waiting, for his moment to act and save the girl from death.