Witness a lynching, the first plague striking the city, and all the chaos unfolding as maddened people are squeezed into the streets because of the metal structures, and worst of all, the beginning of the ritual that promises to bury the city.
A prologue, a chapter revealing the first plague, and a second showing that there’s a conspiracy hidden beneath the streets. Read now the beginning of the horror book that is part of a saga SPONSORED BY THE SITE. And as you read, who knows, maybe you’ll start to notice the symbolism and subliminal messages woven into this deeply occultist book.
Prologue
Anima, Year 12
Torches were lit. The townspeople marched with gritted teeth and guttural growls, moving toward the place with fierce expressions, turning downright feral. The only light in the city was the glow of the moon, contrasting with the darkness that dwelled in the heart of each citizen screaming outside the temple.
Shovels, wooden planks, and massive stones were carried in the name of vandalism and violence.
The crowd surrounded the building, chanting the victim’s name, calling for the one they wished to hurt, slice, tear apart, and shred muscle and bone—like starving wolves ripping into their prey.
They demanded Alektra.
Inside the temple, the girl ran frantically, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her chest throbbed with relentless pounding, her heart beating so fast and hard it pushed the limits of human endurance. The icy air flooding the priestess’s lungs had nothing to do with the weather but everything to do with the sheer terror of prey staring into the eyes of its predator.
Everyone in the temple dragged furniture and anything they could to barricade the door, which trembled under the furious blows of the enraged mob. Stones shattered windows. Were it not for shelves stacked against them, the crowd would have already burst in the moment the glass hit the floor.
Alektra rushed to the main courtyard, where two children clutched bags filled with books and supplies, hands frantic, jaws trembling, teeth chattering. They were her adopted children, once orphans, whom Alektra had loved from the moment she laid eyes on them.
Kneeling before them, she pulled them into a tight embrace, sobbing uncontrollably. Her chest felt as though it was being ripped open, sharp claws tearing through her heart from the inside out, a monster clawing its way free. Yet, even through the pain, she managed to think clearly, issuing orders like a true leader.
— You have to go, boys. Aunt Jane will take care of you, okay?
— Mom, please come with us. Don’t… — The words tangled with cries and desperation.
The matriarch squeezed her children tighter, trying to memorize every inch of the people she loved most in the world, savoring every precious second left.
— Mommy will always love you. You hear me? I will never stop loving you — her voice cracked at the end… not everyone can be strong all the time.
Pushing the boys toward the elderly woman who would escort them, Alektra watched as they picked up torches and stones, tearing away every trace of the robes worn by the priests. They donned the clothes of those about to murder their mother.
A traumatic camouflage that would leave scars so deep in their minds that they would never truly heal.
Alektra of Traumátos, leader of the priests, stepped into the center of the entrance courtyard, positioning herself just in front of the door. Staff and friends stared at their leader, swollen eyes and slumped shoulders betraying their surrender.
For the children and the elderly woman to escape alive, they would offer themselves as bait, drawing all attention to their own bodies, which were about to endure unspeakable punishment.
The final sacrifice!
The staff backed away from the door as the pounding grew louder. The mob, sensing there was no longer any resistance, became even more frenzied. It took only seconds for the entrance to be smashed open. The temple, once known for its silence and serenity, filled with howls and the sounds of destruction.
Alektra watched every one of her partners—priests with whom she had spent her life, built bonds, friendships, turned into family—being stabbed, stomped, and trampled.
Bodies became fountains of blood, veins slashed open, spraying jets of crimson amidst agonizing screams. Heads were crushed so violently that eyeballs popped from their sockets, and macabre cries rang out as skin, pillars, and the temple itself were engulfed in flames.
Desperate, her companions turned their eyes to Alektra as their lives drained away, while she sobbed like a lost child whose entire world was collapsing before her.
That broke the priestess’s mind, shattering the last tether to her sanity. The chill in her body boiled away; her blood surged as if boiling inside her veins. Her breathing grew ragged, teeth clenched, her gaze no longer even human.
She had tried. She had persisted. She had fought for every one of them. But now, the only thing her heart could feel was the monstrous blaze erupting from within.
— Let yourself feel it. Let the rage consume you. Go.
Alektra, overtaken by the voice, didn’t even question whose it was. She simply obeyed.
— Damn you all, you brainwashed vermin. You’ll pay dearly for this. This cursed city will pay dearly for this. Listen closely — her scream rumbled like thunder striking trees in an open field, freezing everyone in place — Like a shark devouring a school of fish, I will return. And I will bury this entire city and all its memories for the rest of time. Your children and grandchildren will suffer my wrath!
That only enraged them more, and they rushed toward Alektra. She felt stones smash into her face, slicing open her brow, forehead, cheeks, and nose, soaking her in blood.
Then came the cracks of bones and the tearing of muscles under a downpour of kicks, punches, and elbows hitting her from all sides.
Her eyes swelled shut, blinding her. Her skin ballooned with blisters and bruises, torn and lacerated. Lying on the ground, her broken nose picked up the scent of fire spreading through her beloved temple.
The exposed fractures in her body amplified the burning as gallons of alcohol were poured over her, drenching her from head to toe. The sting was so unbearable it felt like being plunged into molten lava, her flesh melting bit by bit.
The crowd cheered outside as the temple’s flames finally reached the alcohol, engulfing Alektra in an inferno. Her screams tore through her throat as every organ fried, her body reduced to embers. Every molecule consumed by fire inflicted a pain akin to hundreds of whips striking her back.
— Die, you bitch! — one man laughed.
— Burn in hell, murderer! — screamed another woman through tears.
— My son is avenged, you wretch — this one cried too, with the grief no parent should ever endure.
But then it happened.
All the cheering stopped. Joy and triumph warped into dread and terror as the victim’s screams twisted into laughter.
Alektra stood up and walked to the entrance, engulfed in flames. She roared, pulling the fire and the entire temple toward herself, spinning it into a vortex, a fiery tornado that sent everyone fleeing, the city drowning in screams of panic.
— Let me give you the power, Alektra. Together, we will destroy this city. Give me your heart, and I will grant you power.
— Yes, I accept. I accept — Alektra screamed to someone only she could see.
The flames shifted into a deep crimson, a red so intense it stung the eyes. Roots and branches of the same hue sprouted, while pieces of marble assembled over Alektra’s body, covering her, condensing, reshaping her into something entirely new—a breathtaking open-air monument.
As the laughter faded and the fire died out, the crowd slowly calmed, now staring at the most beautiful marble pillar wrapped in crimson vines and foliage—so stunning it mesmerized anyone who laid eyes on it. As they drew closer, a pulsing aura hit them, something magnetic, making them want to stay forever, to merge with the pillar, even if it hurt.
An elderly woman remembered her husband coming home drunk, lashing out at her with slaps and punches, wounding her body and soul—the very man who had once sworn to love and protect her.
Another remembered the constant torment of being bullied at school. The helplessness of being beaten by classmates, the gnawing thought that maybe there was something wrong with him, something that made him deserve the punishment.
Others remembered their own pain, tragedies, and traumas festering in their hearts. One by one, they placed their hands on the pillar, which absorbed everything—the pain, the sorrow, the suffering. It buried the feelings, locked away the evil. The sensation was like shedding heavy clothes. Gravity seemed lighter now, like surfacing from the depths of a dark ocean.
The crimson vines pulsed, feeding on this feast of emotions, soaking their bodies in the perfume of blindness, dressing them in the fabric of willful ignorance, harvesting the power of the macabre.
A power that kept growing.
And there, on that day, the Pillar of Secrets was born.
Chapter 1: The First Plague
Anima, Year 74
Bodies tremble violently inside their coffins.
The cemetery of Anima has no lighting other than the small torches left by family members at the graves. Muddy paths filled with sludge wind through the area, while the smell of freshly cut grass from machines mingles with the dense fog.
Beneath the ground, the clanking of chains echoes nonstop, along with the rapid thumping of fists against wood. Everyone above stands frozen, icy, and restless as this happens in most of the graves. In theory, they should all be dead.
The royal carriage halts at the cemetery gates. The coachman, dressed impeccably, opens the door for the prince and his assistant to step out.
Adam, of House Anthropos, climbs down from the plush seat and witnesses this macabre scene. The 25-year-old walks among the graves until reaching the gravedigger, standing before an open coffin, his back to the couple.
— Well, look who’s here — the gravedigger’s voice is low, deep, and grim. — Prince Adam finally doing something responsible, stepping out of his cozy orthopedic wool cradles.
— How dare you speak to the prince like that, gravedigger! Do you want to be sent to the Unacceptable District? — the assistant fires back, though the act feels more reckless than brave.
Her courage evaporates instantly when the gravedigger whirls around, revealing glowing red eyes and a face halfway through decomposition, with only patches of skin clinging to his bones. His exposed teeth make it look like he’s permanently grinning.
Swallowing hard, the poor woman struggles to hold back the lump rising in her throat.
— We can’t ban him from here, my dear — the prince explained. — Morpheus is untouchable. All we can do is thank him for his service… Have you followed the king’s decree to bury them thirteen feet deep instead of seven?
The creature locks eyes with the prince, who tries his best not to show any fear. Morpheus tips his hat slightly, a signal that he’s in a reasonably good mood.
— Yes, Your Highness. But that headless king’s bright idea didn’t work, much to the surprise of only fools. Obviously, material laws don’t solve this crisis. After all, even a living man buried seven feet down wouldn’t be heard screaming for mercy. This is the work of forces beyond the veil of the tangible.
— Do you know what forces these are?
A heavy, suffocating silence falls over them, stretching on like an eternity. The gravedigger stares at the two, giving off the impression that he might attack at any moment — enough to nearly stop both their hearts.
— Whether I know… you may never find out. I simply enjoy watching your submissive king order them buried deeper, chaining them like fools. Watching it all fail… brings me joy.
— That won’t be the case for much longer. The city marshal and I are going to solve this. I came here to request permission for my assistant, Roberta, to conduct some tests on one of the… restless dead.
— Rebeca — the girl corrected, her voice laced with irritation.
— Yes… Rebeca — the prince smiled.
Morpheus nodded and signaled his helpers to start moving the coffin toward the morgue, located within the cemetery grounds. Everyone cleared out.
The prince and his assistant remained alone.
— Roberta? — she asked, raising an eyebrow, her tone half-playful but tinged with genuine annoyance.
— Forgive me, my dear. The king’s been drowning me in tasks lately. This crisis is stressing everyone. You know it wasn’t on purpose.
— Relax, boss. I know you. We’ve never exactly been best friends, but try to get my name right next time.
Adam chuckled, shaking his head. Both exchanged a smile — one of those polite, fake ones.
— By the way… you’re really going to leave me alone with a corpse that never sleeps while you enjoy the royal ball?
— Oh, believe me, I’d rather be chained inside a coffin than go to that party. But you know how politics works. Just take some readings — see if the tremors change in intensity, check the body temperature, and look for any anomalies.
Adam leaned in, lowering his voice and deepening the tone slightly, flashing a mischievous grin.
— I promise I’ll make it up to you later… just the way you like.
They laughed and kissed, ignoring the coachman nearby, who politely pretended not to notice. After some playful touches and goodbyes, Adam climbed back into the carriage, watching as his assistant disappeared into the shadows of the graveyard, heading toward the morgue.
The prince slumped into the plush leather seat, relieved to leave that dreadful place.
When suddenly — glowing red eyes appeared right outside the window, making him yelp in surprise. Adam stared straight ahead, breathing heavily, his heart pounding like it was trying to escape his chest.
— Listen carefully, Prince of Anima — Morpheus growled — for your own good, I hope you solve this. Otherwise, the entire city will be buried. And I don’t mean that metaphorically or poetically… I mean literally buried.
His voice was rough but deep, and the way his unblinking eyes bore into the prince sent a shiver down Adam’s spine. Morpheus’s intimidating presence was amplified by his long black trench coat, matching trousers, and heavy boots.
— And… do you… have any advice, Morpheus? — Adam asked, doing his best to sound less tense than a noose pulled tight.
— You’ll be among hundreds of enemies and barely a dozen allies. Figure out who’s who — fast — or I’ll be the one inspecting your body on the morgue table… sooner than you think.
With that, Morpheus licked what remained of his half-rotted tongue and vanished just as suddenly as he’d appeared. Adam barely managed to signal Jimmy, the coachman, to start the return trip.
They left the subdistrict where the cemetery lay and entered the urban core of the famed city-state of Anima.
From the window, the prince could see everything.
Anima grew eerie after dark. Its dim lighting cast a heavy, suffocating atmosphere, making it feel like hungry eyes were always watching. Streets were jammed with carriages and horseback riders yelling at each other, furious over the daily traffic — which existed solely because of themselves, the Users.
The dense city seemed to swallow every living soul, its towering buildings blocking out the sky and dimming the stars. Sidewalks and squares were filled with people just standing there, not blinking, grinning emptily while their lips and teeth moved, producing shrill, manic laughter.
All of them crowded around the massive, twisted iron obelisks — warped like wrung-out towels — whose magic mirrors displayed the lives of every resident… or at least the version they wanted to show.
These were the infamous Metal Constructions.
Thousands of them dotted every corner, square, sidewalk, and even residential yards. The Users’ eyes were bloodshot and strained from barely blinking, pupils dilated, trembling from the adrenaline and the spell.
If they weren’t watching, they were doing anything to be watched. Adam noticed some gaunt figures with wild hair and beards matted from days without bathing.
Behind haystacks and carriages, their arms moved furiously as they masturbated, moaning while watching naked people performing willingly for an audience. Mostly women — their egos and emptiness temporarily soothed as their bodies became trophies.
Adam looked on with disgust, glancing around while the carriages rolled by as if this were all normal. He could never truly accept any of this, even though he was partially to blame for the chaos.
— We’ve arrived, sir.
Adam sighed, hearing the deafening screams outside the Pulsar Palace — the wealthiest and most important district of Anima. The place overflowed with the king’s Indulgent Troops. Bright lights made it look like an endless gala.
The prince collected himself, plastered on a huge fake smile, widened his eyes, and stepped out of the carriage, waving like a seasoned politician.
— Good evening, people of Anima! How are you tonight? — His hand fluttered in a perfect PR wave.
The crowd went absolutely insane, shrieking like they were about to give birth. Some were drenched in sweat and stank of feces after camping there for days. Bleeding feet and collapsed bodies were ignored in the frenzy.
None of it mattered as long as the prince waved and danced his way up the stairs, mimicking the typical choreography performed by the stars of the Metal Constructions.
The fans went berserk when, emerging from the palace, the princess finally made her grand appearance.
Her hair was like Adam’s — dark brown — but while his was short and curly, hers fell in sleek sheets down to her waist. Her body was unlike any other, belonging to a race with a trait no human could ever possess.
Her curves were flawless, her form utterly perfect — because all daughters of Cythera had bodies literally made of glass.
Everyone bowed to Princess Cythera VI, fiancée of Adam.
The couple met with a chaste kiss and a hug, then began greeting the public. More nobles appeared, dressed in outfits made of cardboard, rice, and other absurd materials. One particularly stood out — arriving in just his underwear, sporting a tattoo across his back that read “Sleep, you dead who never sleep, just sleep”, earning thunderous applause for his bold “social statement.”
The nobles embraced, laughing and glowing with the pretense of friendship until they stepped inside the palace, beyond the reach of the Metal Constructions’ magic — where no one could see them.
And then… the masks fell.
Everyone split up without so much as a glance at each other. Some even changed how they walked and spoke, having faked even that.
— For fuck’s sake, Adam, you showed up way too early. You were supposed to be the last to arrive — the grand finale of the night. Are you brain-dead?
— I-I’m sorry, Cythera. I didn’t realize people were still coming. The coachman said we’d arrived, so I just…
— Then fire the coachman and send him to the Unacceptable District!
Adam’s eyes nearly popped out.
— No! Love, you’ve already sent eight of our staff there. Jimmy just made a tiny mistake.
Cythera VI, of House Vanitas, loomed in close, her glassy, amber eyes wide with rage — a look that could make anyone’s blood freeze.
— That’s an order, fiancé — the word “fiancé” dripped with menace.
Adam’s heart screamed, clawing at his insides, begging him to stand up to his wretched bride. But his body caved, and his mind flashed through the mountain of stress that defying her would bring.
— Yes, ma’am — the words barely escaped his lips.
Satisfied, she smiled. The two ascended to the highest point in the grand hall, where the king and queen stood being worshipped by the masses. At their side stood the captain of the guard — a towering, muscular figure — perfectly still but taking a moment to wink flirtatiously at Cythera VI.
She returned the grin.
This was Demetrius, of House Fidelis — the family tasked with guarding the palace and protecting the royal family. His smirk vanished into a sneer the moment his eyes met Adam’s.
The prince pretended not to notice, taking his place slightly behind the king and queen, as befit someone of royal standing.
— Ladies and gentlemen — the king began — it’s an honor to have you here for another year of celebration, on this holiday that fills me with pride, joy… and deep sadness. Tonight marks the day my beloved Cythera the First left this world in her sleep, passing away as she lived and was born — perfectly. After all, who doesn’t want to die peacefully in their sleep, right?
The crowd applauded, and a massive oil painting behind the monarchs lit up, depicting Cythera I.
— Let’s celebrate her memory. Eat, drink, and be merry — just like my beloved Cythera, who blessed me with daughters who, in turn, gave me my granddaughter… and wife… Cythera VI. Let the festivities begin!
The hall exploded with cheers as the band struck up and food and drink flowed like rivers.
— Well, have fun. And remember our deal — use protection. Don’t go knocking anyone up — Cythera VI winked and disappeared down a hallway.
A hallway that, moments later, Demetrius also happened to vanish into.
The party raged until dawn. Adam lost count of how many times he puked — from overeating, drinking, smoking, and who knows what else. He kissed women, men, even statues. Ended up in someone’s bed — he had no clue whose — but hey, at least he used a condom, keeping his promise to his fake fiancée, who was no doubt just as wild somewhere else.
Now Adam wandered like a zombie. His vision swam, his balance shot, his steps random. Screams, moans, retching, and choking echoed around him. Shadows and demonic figures seemed to laugh at him… until he snapped back to reality.
The only thing left once the fog lifted was what had been there for a long time — emptiness.
The voices returned. The self-hatred. The regrets gnawing at his soul. What had he become? The man Adam once was… felt long dead and buried.
But like the restless dead of Anima… he couldn’t stay buried.
All because he let her go.
Banished her from the city.
God, how he missed that woman. He’d do anything to have her back.
Lost in his thoughts, a scream pierced the air.
Adam followed the sound — and saw people vomiting. Not from booze, like usual. No… their cups and mouths were full of thick, red liquid.
His eyes snapped to the golden fountain at the center of the royal hall. What was once clear, pristine water now flowed dark and red. The gentle sound of water trickling over the marble basin was now a thick, sticky sludge.
Adam dipped his fingers in and brought them to his lips.
Just as everyone in Anima would realize when they opened their taps… or stepped into their baths…
All the water in the city…
Had turned to blood.
***
The central plaza of Anima remained the same as ever — surrounded by Metal Constructions, with only the Pillar of Wishes standing intact. Some people danced before it, hoping to be seen more on the magical displays.
Until they all froze.
The crimson vines on the pillar began to move, stretching, expanding their reach. People screamed, scattering, as the marble swelled. A small earthquake rumbled beneath their feet, sending marble dust flying as cracks split the surface — revealing something that instantly captured everyone’s attention.
The quake stopped. The vines went still again. But the entire city stared at the pillar…
As the fingers of a woman pushed their way out.
Chapter 2: The Essential Mission
The setting is a dark crypt, lit only by the flames of a torch stand in the center of the oval-shaped chamber.
Figures dressed in red cloaks that cover their entire bodies kneel, chanting in an unknown language, far from anything spoken in the city. Skulls line the edges of the crypt, resting on the ground with thick, unlit candles beside them. These skulls belong to those the order was tasked with assassinating, massacring, or destroying — a total of 137.
All kneel lower, pressing their foreheads to the floor and stretching their arms forward as the leader approaches, easily distinguishable by her golden cloak and mask covered in gold.
— My subjects, listen closely — her voice echoed through the chamber like the beating of war drums — The day we foresaw has arrived. The ritual has begun, and the water has been corrupted with blood! We must stay strong and remain true to our purpose. We have food and supplies enough to last us for years. Let Anima suffer. Let the people meet their end as they perish from thirst.
All eyes followed the woman as she pulled a black pill from within her cloak, raising it high.
— When the years pass and our supplies are depleted, we will take the Pill of Eternal Rest. And thus, we will end our days in this city. This fate, which I have chosen for all of us, is far better than witnessing the return of the cursed woman.
— My lady — one disciple interrupted — what about those who dare attempt to awaken Alektra? The time will come when the Champion is chosen — and surely, they will try to wake her.
— Without a doubt, my servant. And the answer is simple. Just look around at all the skulls in this chamber — a reminder of what happens to anyone who stands in our way. We will kill the Champion, everyone who stands with the Champion, their families, and their friends. Am I clear?
All bowed their heads in reverence.
— My lady… and what about the Young Milady? Don’t you think it’s time to invite her to join us? — The voice was soft, young, coming from the one kneeling closest to the cult leader.
— Unfortunately, the Young Milady still insists on being defiant. Perhaps we raised her wrong. If the girl does not hold firm, it will pain me… but her body too will be crushed beneath our feet. And her face… will be displayed as a trophy on my bed.
The one who asked lowered her head in silence.
The leader then drew a dagger. Instantly, everyone stood and did the same, retrieving identical blades strapped to their waists.
— Remember, all of you… Alektra is worse than death itself. What we are doing to the people of Anima… is mercy. This is our essential mission. Long live the Mania Society.
— Long live the Mania Society — they all shouted in unison.
Blood was drawn with a slice across each forearm. The same blood was licked as they raised it to their lips. Though their eyes remained hidden, their dilated pupils betrayed the intoxicated thrill of their cause. Their pounding hearts revealed their excitement, while the erections and dampness between their legs exposed the primal, visceral pleasure they took…
In death.
Death to the Champion and all who stand with them!
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And don’t regret it.