Part I – The Council of Five
By moonlight, beneath the shadow of the great stone temple, the five priestesses gathered.
Ayomi, gatekeeper of hidden paths and chosen of Papa Legba.
Sael, the graceful yet sharp-tongued light of Erzulie Freda.
Ayola, silent observer and tactician of secrets.
Thalia, the shield and sword of Ogou's warpath.
Elis, newly chosen by Maman Brigitte, still adjusting to the weight of her calling.
Zion stood at the edge, silent, letting them speak first.
"The Gate dimmed," Ayomi began. "That alone would have been enough to summon us."
"But it wasn't just the Gate," Thalia said. "The wind froze. The beasts in the forest stopped moving."
"I felt… grief," Elis added, almost whispering. "A memory of something divine—ripped apart."
They turned to Zion. He laid the stone on the center table. Its sigil glowed faintly, a tangled shape that shifted if you looked too long.
"What I saw wasn't a god," he said. "It was what consumes gods."
Part II – Echoes from the Consumed
Ayomi placed her hand on the stone. Her sigil flared—Papa Legba's mark pulsed like a lock turning. Sael and Elis reached out, joining hands. The moment all five priestesses touched the circle, the air grew cold.
A memory unfolded—not their own.
A vision:
A god of knowledge, robed in gold, walking across a plain of stars.
Whispers approach. A great shadow looms behind it.
"I see you," the god says, raising a staff.
The shadow answers not with words—but hunger. It opens, and within are other gods, already consumed—their memories stitched into its being.
The golden god tries to flee.
"You feed on memory," it realizes.
"You are not meant to exist in this age—"
It is devoured.
The priestesses staggered as the vision ended. The stone cracked.
"This thing… doesn't just consume gods," Ayola said. "It absorbs their purpose."
"A god killer that doesn't destroy—it replaces," Sael murmured.
"And what it took from this one," Zion added, "was knowledge."
Part III – The Message and the Plan
Elis stood shakily, her sigil still glowing faint green.
"The devoured god left us something," she said. "A whisper before it was consumed."
The words spilled from her mouth—not her own:
"If I fall, let them know:
The hunger grows because the world forgets.
When the old truths are buried,
the eater is free to rise."
Ayomi trembled.
"It's feeding off forgotten gods, forgotten truths. The more we forget, the stronger it becomes."
Zion stood slowly.
"Then we have two missions. One is war. The other is remembrance."
He looked to each priestess.
"You're not just symbols of power. You are anchors to our gods. We must remember them fully—or risk losing them forever."