“My Fathers Great Grand Father used to tell a tale to him when he was a boy and he in turn has told it to me and now I tell it to you my boy.”
“It tells of an Angel of such wrathful beauty, blazing colour and dripping blood. She flys through the spaces of The Chapel gathering the lost and the damned, the loved and the cherished for all are welcome in her embrace. Voice so sweet it lures you in and it is said you fall helplessly in love with that Angel of colour and light, so much so that the changes she brings are welcomed with dying arms.”
“What sort of changes Grandpa, does she make you magical?”
“So the legend tells the change is one of transcendence, so yes you could say she makes you magical for you become part of something greater than yourself.”
“I don’t like change and it seems like a lot to give up for a icky girly thing like love”
“Ha ha ha, yes but you don’t yet understand how powerful love is. It is one of the strongest emotions we have and many a man has fallen for it and given up many things to pursue it”
“Not me! I’m tougher than that, if I see this Angel I’d tell it frak off! You’re not transcending me”
“My boy, if you see this Angel I suggest you run. For if she existed it would mean the doom of us all. Would you like to hear why?”
“Will it give me nightmares?”
“Oh most definitely.”
The Angel of the Gathering Blood, her Tzanguinors and the Cauldron of Offerings. Together they are the herald of the Heptameron, the evil that will rise like it has in histories past but for it to rise fully it needs the fuel of sacrifice, blood offerings and souls.
The Chapel has called and The Angel has risen. The gathering has begun and The Heptameron will have it’s share of souls to rise once again.