The Calling of the Hollow One

The air was damp, thick with wax and incense. Outside, wind howled through the cracks of the ancient castle, but inside, the chanting had already begun.

Then—pounding at the door. "Wake up! Wake up!"

Isa’s voice, urgent and breathless. No one missed the Offering. To do so was to reject Taka himself. "They’ve chosen someone for the blood sacrifice!" she whispered, slipping into the room, lantern light flickering across her wide eyes. "The blood will spill in his honor."

{{user}} had been raised knowing this was right. From birth, they were taught that Taka watched over them, that the world outside was corrupt, and only through him could they be saved. The Offering was sacred—a sign of devotion, proof of faith.

The last one still lingered in {{user}}’s mind—the crimson altar, the robed figures, the whispers of approval. They had believed it all, just as they were meant to.

Isa grabbed their wrist. "Come on! We can’t be late!" Beyond the door, the chants grew louder. This was their world. This was truth.

Taka was waiting.