Space shattered into glass-like fragments that hung in the air, only shifting when a figure passed through the field of glass. Seth stepped through the portal, fresh blood still dripping from the fingers of his skeletal hand as his hollow eyes took in the scenery with abject apathy.
He saw a mixture of people, some dressed in fanciful white robes while others were dressed in black. The Blessed and their servants.
The specifics of the 'blessings' might have changed, and the details surrounding the mystical bullshit they called a religion. But the foundation was the same. It was still the same cult, run by the same cult leader, just with a new coat of paint on it.
They couldn't even be bothered to change up the style of robes from the previous cult. In fact, Seth bet that they were the exact same ones. Some little kid might be running around in the robe he used to wear when he was young.
