Prologue

Gathered at the large cavern hidden under the temple were three hundred hooded figures in black robes. They stood around the burning incense and other offerings that lay at the center of the pentagram painted on the floor, with white candles at each corner.

"Tonight is the night promised to us by Croven, our savior," said the man in the middle.

"All men die, but not all have the honor of dying with God... To be a living sacrifice to Him..."

They shifted uncomfortably as if reconsidering what they had already decided.

"....and in return, we shall receive his divine salvation. A gift that non-believers will envy!"

The men nodded. There were whispers in the corner, and few brief discussions regarding the process but they soon came to halt as the high priest raised his staff.

"Anyone who doesn't wish so, can leave right now."

The men stood still. When the high priest was assured of their willingness, they began the ceremony.

The ritual started with a naked woman dancing at the circle, appeasing the spirit.

Voices echoed as they chanted in old Za'arish—a language that was long dead— inviting an entity to appear before them.

Sacred relics eerily fell from the pedestal as the ground vibrated along with a thunderclap. 

And the men saw the spirit materialized from the smoke that sent chill to their spine. But they didn't flinch— the ritual must go on.

The chanting went louder as the heavy rain fell in the sky.

They worshipped God's glory until dawn, and from the circle where the painted pentagram was, the floor begins to crumble, revealing a pool of lava underneath them.

"Brothers, the apocalypse has begun, I present to you, the gate to God's realm," the high priest said, staring at the crumbled floor, where the pentagram used to be.

One of them hesitated, realizing the mistake of joining the ritual. With his face filled with terror, he started to run.

"Brother, it's too late to back out. You agreed to the terms."

"No, you devils! You promised power, yet you fooled me! Luring me into this," he looked at once again at the lake of fire, "Hell!"

"Brother, calm yourself."

"Calm? My soul is about to be given to a false god? Oh, what a blasphemy! What horror! God help me, don't let them take my soul... My soul is mine—"

A hooded man slashed him in the throat.

Blood sprayed, and the coward was no more.

After the sudden interruption, the steady beat of drum replaced the chanting, a cue to the final phase of the ritual.

For a moment they stared into the gate of hell, and listened to the beautiful melody of screaming souls.

 One by one, the hooded figures baptized themselves on the lake of fire. They jumped to their death, screaming with delight. Souls were burned under the red smoldering pool of damnation.

 However, some were too afraid and had to be comforted by the others. Soon, they were all convinced and reluctantly joined in.

Some drank the liquid fire. Others breathed sulfur that lingered in the smoke. Some just dipped their bodies, like a normal bath.

Their old flesh was no more, but their souls remained. And God lifted them up out the pool, with their bodies anew.

"You have conquered your fears, and have endured the same pain. You have proven yourselves worthy successors of my power.

Rise, my children," said the voice.

 And rise, they did. They helped each other on their feet and stood before the fading image of the deity.

That morning, the blessed men went outside the temple reborn— not as a man, but gods.