From the roof of the Lion’s Pride Inn, I saw it all unfold.

https://imgur.com/a/goldshire-meetin...daeron-7rXNAdw

The night was painted in moonlight, the cobblestones warm with the noise of merchants, wanderers, and fools sipping their ales. Yet in the center of Goldshire something darker stirred — something more organized, more deliberate.

The banners of The Devil hung like shadows between the trees. At their heart stood Diablia — or as some whisper, Evilia — cloaked in her crimson authority. She did not need to shout; every word she uttered carried the weight of command. The crowd obeyed, like puppets with strings woven in shadow.

I watched as they prepared their spectacle:

First the tombola, a mockery of chance, where cultists laughed and cast lots for the fate of a Protowelp.

Then the alignment, precise and unyielding. One by one they moved to the edges of the invisible star, until the pentagram carved itself across the dirt in radiant crimson light.

“Hold your line,” Diablia called. “Focus. Let no beam falter.”
The village square, once a place of chatter and song, became a ritual ground. Five points of power, united by arcane lasers, weaving a symbol not even the Light could easily dismiss.

And I — Akazia Flamewhisper — crouched upon the inn’s roof, unseen by most, yet unable to resist the grin curling across my face. The smell of their magic, acrid and sweet, was almost intoxicating.

What they summoned that night was not a demon, nor a beast, nor flame. What they summoned was unity. A gathering bound not by law or Light, but by their devotion to chaos, shadow, and to the will of Diablia herself.

Goldshire trembled. The people fled. And still, the cult stood in perfect formation, a star burning against the cobblestones, chanting in voices that shook the trees.

The Devil has made its presence known.

And I?
I will keep watching from the rooftops.
For the smoke, the fear, and the spectacle… are far too delicious to miss.

<3
Akazia Flamewhisper