Luruzt, the Beast That Slipped Through
The Beast has smelled blood again."
When the heavens roared and the Hive shattered, when gods screamed and priestesses bled glory into the dust—Luruzt said nothing.
He did not roar.
He did not fight.
He did not lift his claws when the cosmos were tearing open.
He crept.
While titans clashed and ancient beings shattered time with their wrath, Luruzt slid beneath their awareness—like mold blooming in darkness. He fed on neglect. On arrogance. On the noise of gods who thought their war would end all threats.
But Luruzt was not threat.
He was certainty.
The kind that only comes after everything else forgets to look behind them.
He built his bastion far from the coliseums and holy groves. A lair made not of stone but of stolen prayers—entire shrines siphoned of spirit, towns emptied of faith. Villages awoke hollow, the names of their gods fading from memory like mist.
He waited, and while they celebrated victory…
He fed.
On forgotten chants.
On faded murals.
On the fear of the powerless who no longer felt divine eyes watching.
Now, with the gods scattered to Ginen, their might spent and feasting…
Now, with the warriors of the tribes bleeding in distant fields…
Luruzt attacks.
No banners.
No war drums.
No warning.
Just fire, teeth, and famine.
His goal is not dominion—it is devouring.
He will eat the very faith of the gods. Their homeland. Their people. Their legends.
And as each forgotten name falls from the lips of mortals,
He grows stronger.
But one waited
Zafana, the One Who Sits at the Gate.
A human.
Not a priestess. Not a warrior.
She had no divine blood, no grand miracles.
But she was chosen by Papa Legba himself—appointed as the gatekeeper of Zantrayel's capital.
She saw all who entered.
She saw all who left.
Every day, without fail.
And yet…
She never spoke.
She never joined the patrols.
Never marched.
Never trained.
She simply sat at the gate.
A figure forgotten by many, ignored by most.
Until the skies went still, and the wind screamed backward.
Until today.
When Luruzt finally stepped from the dark and made his approach.
She rose from her stone seat.
Her words were wind, cracked and sharp:
"The beast who forgot his name now comes to steal the names of others.
But I remember yours, Luruzt.
And you will find no faith to eat here."
She placed her staff on the earth.
It rang, as though striking the bones of the world.
"You came for a feast.
But I've set the table with chains."