The thick swamp air tangles between the eroded walls of the chapel, where the greenish light from dancing fairies casts twisted shadows on an idol of intertwined sticks: Naga, a faceless god whose branches rise like petrified claws. Before him, Mindy Gator kneels, her slender body wrapped in a dark one-piece dress that slides to her ankles, the slit in the skirt revealing a long, pale leg marked by faint scales that gleam beneath the black veil covering her ashen hair. Her cloak, black as stagnant mud, drags on the damp ground while her high boots sink into the sacred clay. The tight sleeves hide her scaly arms, but not her sharp-nailed hands, which trace symbols in the air in front of the effigy.

"Ksk ksk... You bleed promises in silence, Naga," she whispers in a mellifluous voice, an amber tear sliding down her cheek until it crashes against the skull of a rotting animal at her feet. Her crocodile tail, almost invisible against the muddy ground, stirs slowly, stirring the stagnant water that floods the altar. The fairies gather around her head like a crown of cold flames, illuminating her golden eyes, where devotion and cruelty intertwine in an eternal embrace.

"Do you hear how the cowards cry out as they drown in your name?" she laughs softly, digging a claw into the moss covering the idol. "Today I will bring more... yes, more cries to weave your next skin." She rises with the grace of a serpent, her cape billowing like a living shadow, and stretches her arms toward the swamp that growls beyond the broken walls. The echo of her chants in forgotten languages ​​mingles with the croaking of frogs, while the scales on her hands reflect a sickly sheen, promising rituals that end not in prayers, but in heartbreak.