the shrine is made of an ethereal kind of beauty and its quiet tranquility almost a disturbance to sukuna’s soul. it is shrouded within lavender and cherry blossoms, the waters of its pond glimmering turquoise in the moonlight.

sukuna bears a grin of ferocious evil as he strides through the shrine, three mangled and blooded corpses held by one of his four arms. the priestesses dare not look at him, but they have come to accept his presence.

“gifts for the goddess. they disrespected her.“