Meanwhile, in the church, the faithful gathered. It actually wasn't much of a church but the home of the Mouth of Pohr, Leahcim. He kept the place looking like a home since he bought it all those years ago– save for the sanctuary. The sanctuary was a place of worship and thus needed remodeling.

  What used to be the den now had the carpet and underlayment ripped away to expose the concrete slab beneath. Carved in it were the inscriptions beholden to him from the Great Pohr. Here, light of candles is all that glows over the bare bodies and floor of the congregation. It is known that clothes are only meant to hide the skin of Pohr's mighty human warriors.

  Leahcim looked down upon the willing servants with truly appreciative eyes.

  Their beautiful skin.

  The pawns of the dark goddess proudly form a circle.

  The frame of the gate.

  Their sacrifice will be remembered when Pohr takes the throne.

  "Children of Pohr." The Mouth walked the perimeter of the circle of six naked subjects, carefully taking in their figures one at a time– for the last time.

  "Each of you came to Pohr to find purpose. To find a reason for your mortal existence."

  He looked to Brother Hoan. His naming day came when he brought his wife and his mistress to the church, where they now joined him in the circle, naked as he. They clasped hand-in-hand on either side of him.

  "Some of you came with doubts."

  He continued around the circle to look upon Sister Bahar, the eldest of the group but no less a child to Pohr. She helped many subjects find peace in committing their lives, and deaths, to a higher cause.

  "Fears. Reservations."

  Lastly was Brother Zaob and his mortal sibling, Sister Thur. The twins were only in their early twenties. Leahcim took a particular liking to them and he will surely miss them the most. "Did Pohr not restore your will? Your Confidence?"

  "Yes," the circle of followers droned in worship together.

  "Today, you selected few will open the gate to Pohr's palace. You will be the frame for the gate and your lives will be the jewels cresting the portal to hell," The Mouth of Pohr shed a single tear. "I wish it could be me, but this honor was one chosen for you. My honor is to behold an event that has never been achieved by mortals such as us before."

  He paused for a moment to look at the gleeful faces of the congregation one last time. "Deacon Hacim. Bring him in."

  The man called Hacim hurriedly tip-toed to Laehcim to whisper something to him. Leahcim smiled at the circle before speaking.

  "Some still have fear, but we can still guide them to their purpose"

  In another room, Leahcim opened the door to a naked man brandishing the splintered leg of a chair that he apparently broke free from an antique. The sight gave Leahcim pause before he spoke. "What is the matter, child?"

  "I can't do it, Darren" The man was frantically sweating, causing the bloody encryptions painted on all over his body to run.

  Leachim smiled. "Please, I have left that name behi-"

  "I don't give a fuck, man! I can't do this! I'm not ready to die in this musty ass house!"

  Leahcim took a step further into the room. "This is Pohr's chosen sanctuar-"

  "SHUT THE FUCK UP, MAN!" The naked man stepped closer, shaking the chair leg threateningly. "I WAS FINE UP UNTIL THIS."

  "It's all part of Pohr's plan, child. Trust in her will," Leahcim gestured his hands to urge the man to calm down and lower the improvised weapon.

  The frantic man continued, ignoring Leahcim. "I was fine with drugs. Okay? The orgies were fun. Alright? I even put up with the stupid backward names! But THIS- THIS?"

  "This is just the Leaves talking, child. Your fears have gotten the best of you. Just look at you. Look at how ridiculous you look." Leachim paused with his hands open. "Go ahead. Look."

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  The Mouth's hand gently led the way to a bedroom mirror to the man's right. The reflection showed guilt and pity. He was naked as the day he was born, covered in bloody demonic characters, sweating down his body.

  When did he become so shameless?

  "What happened to me?" The man dropped the weapon to the floor and collapsed to his knees in front of the mirror. "When did I become so pathetic?"

  Leahcim's face softened and his posture straightened. "You were always this pathetic, Travis."

  "What?" Travis broke his gaze from his reflection to the startling response.

  "This is the real you, Travis. You are pathetic." The Mouth walked up behind the naked man on the floor and laid his hands on his shoulders, no sign of hesitation as his fingertips soaked in the sweat and blood. Despite their kind, gentle touch, they were more like shackles than any iron or steel. Tavis started to weep inconsolably.

  Leahcim continued. "This is why you are here, child. You laid before the entire congregation as they bled their hands and marked you with the words of Pohr. You did so because you are a degenerate man who likes to be touched by strangers.

  "You accepted being the Chosen because you always wanted to be the center of attention. You are here right now because this is who the fuck you are, Travis." His grip tightened on Travis's shoulders. "You are a pathetic. Little. Shit."

  Two deacons rushed into the room to help Leahcim bring Travis back to his feet, holding him by his arms. Leahcim stepped around Travis and stood tall between him and the mirror. He stared down his nose at Travis's face before his attention was brought back to the chair leg on the floor.

  He picked it up.

  "You see, Travis. The real you does not matter." Leahcim inspected the splinters of the chair leg , turning it around in his hands in front of the helpless man. He paused before simply casting it away. Turning back to the mirror, he straightened his posture in his own reflection before speaking again.

  "But Pohr foresaw even this." He turned to Travis again, putting on a kind, fatherly face again.

  "Fear not, my child. You do not have to sacrifice yourself this night."

  "I don't?" Snot dripped from Travis's face.

  "No, child," His face and tone was consolation. "Now please follow me out to the others so we can break the news to them."

  "Okay, Darr- O-okay, Leahcim"

  There in the sanctuary knelt the six naked followers, faithfully waiting in the same position that The Mouth left them in. As he led the deacons and Travis to the front of the room, the congregation smiled lovingly waiting for their next words to be spoken.

  "Child, Pohr knew that you had doubts this evening and bestowed her wisdom long before the ceremony began." Some of the faces of the circle turned to frowns. "Now, now. I see all your concern but the path has long beholden to me.

  "I have long known you would not be able to commit yourself to this ceremony. This is precisely why you were chosen, Child. Your fear is the catalyst for the portal."

  "Wait. No!" The man tensed again but the deacons tightened their grip on him as he struggled. "YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T KILL ME!"

  "No, Child. I said you wouldn't have to sacrifice yourself. Brothers, bring Portal to the center of the Gate." Leachim stripped Travis of name and left him only with the role he was given: Portal. The deacons easily carried the scrawny man to the center of the circle, lifting him over the knelt members of the Gate. "Your fears and doubts at the center of their conviction are paramount to the ceremony's success. Even they knew you would not slit your own throat."

  "NO WAI-" his words were quite literally cut short. Deacon Hacim ran a box cutter over the man's throat and the other deacon punched him deep into the stomach before they lowered him to the floor. Travis knelt to the floor, eyes wide with pain, fear, and all the things Pohr needed to open her gate. He tried to scream but the blood gurgled and choked the sound. The deacons vacated the circle, leaving Portal to clutch and grab frivolously at his gaping throat.

  Without instruction, the other members of the gate followed suit. The leaves numb their pain and they spilled life from their necks. They poured blood and their final breaths into the center of the circle. Each throat ran agape and each member bore a delighted smile to match. The grooves carved into the concrete filled with crimson. A rumble began and in an instant, The Mouth of Pohr could see a bright glow emanate from the red letters before blinking out, darkening again.

  The room was silent again. The Mouth of Pohr, and his two deacons stood in the room, staring blankly.

  Nothing.

  Just silence.

  Dead bodies strewn the floor and the rest of the room was as quiet as they were.

  Deacon Hacim leaned toward Leahcim. "Did it work?"

  After a few minutes of nervous reading through demonic text and trying to contact Pohr, Leahcim gave up and started pacing in the room. He was careful not to step in the red pools that slowly spread out over the cement. Finally, he sat on the floor, facing the bodies that once made up the gate, intently staring at the pile of carnage.

  "Maybe we should hav-'' Leahcim was cut off by a knock at the door.

  There shouldn't have been any knocking. There was a magical mask over this house, preventing others from noticing the house in the first place.

  The magic was so powerful that if someone were to mistakenly send a pizza to this house address, the driver wouldn't be able to find it, even if they were parked right out front.

  KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

  The knocking began again, more rapid, growing somewhat impatient.

  He approached the door with some reservations. The knocking started again.

  It was certainly impatient now, and maybe angry.

  Leahcim drew closer to the sound of the knocks, incessant and growing in weight.

  Heavy.

  Pounding.

  Unrelenting.

  Until he finally reached the door.

  It just... stopped.

  He peeked through the peep-hole and didn't recognize the visitor

  But somehow, he felt compelled to let them in.

  His hands moved on their own.

  He inexplicably unlatched the many locks and bolts that secured the door and opened it. On the doorstep was a woman that he didn't recognize to be Jodie Edwards, Dylan's mother. Jodie looked at him with a face of fury before pushing past him to enter the house.

  He didn't stop her, and she didn't regard the mass of bodies in the center of the room.

  She walked in like she owned the place.

  "Things didn't go as planned. We need to regroup. Get the scepter."