Story 1080: The Crimson Spiral

The sky over Korr’s Hollow bled crimson as if a wound had torn open the heavens themselves. Survivors whispered of a spiral—a twisting storm of red lightning and smoke—hovering above the collapsed cathedral at the town’s heart. It pulsed in rhythm with no heartbeat, sang in tones no ears could decipher.

Priestess Vanya Elrow, once a devout guardian of the old catacombs beneath Korr’s Hollow, now stood at the epicenter of this eldritch cyclone. Her eyes had long since turned red, as if the Spiral had replaced her soul with raw entropy. She spoke in spirals, her sermons looping like the pattern branded into the earth beneath her feet.

Those who entered the Spiral’s influence did not return the same—if they returned at all. Their bodies remained intact, but their minds were twisted, frayed, and coiled into impossibility. Some spoke of seeing time unravel. Others screamed about “the red god” whispering beneath the stone, urging them toward ascension through madness.