Now Available: Rite of the Lamb

Rite of the Lamb

The glossy white fur gleaming in stark contrast to the blood that smeared her hand and spattered her skin and the blade she held so loosely.

Her face was calm—too calm—as though she had long accepted her role in whatever dark ritual had unfolded in the shadowed halls of this unholy sanctuary. Around her, the demons shifted, watching from the darkness like hungry spectators to an ancient rite.

Their twisted forms slithered in darkness, their low whispers vibrating in the air like a haunting hymn. It wasn’t clear who was meant to be the next sacrifice: the woman, with her serene yet unnerving gaze that was now the tool of their bidding, or the goats, whose eyes seemed almost too knowing, too present.

A terrible sense of anticipation filled the air, as if the very walls themselves waited for the knife to fall again.

But the true horror lay in the uncertainty—the woman’s calm suggested she was no mere victim, and perhaps she was far more dangerous than the monsters who watched her.