The preparations for the Zemura Village deity ceremony stretched over several days. Villagers, though fearful, worked together—hanging red lanterns, painting sacred symbols on stones, and weaving flower garlands for the altar.
Vixen stayed close to Kin throughout the arrangements, his protective Alpha instinct on high alert. Every time Kin bent to place an offering basket, Vixen's hand found its way to the small of his back, steady and reassuring.
By the evening of the auspicious day, the temple square blazed with hundreds of oil lamps. The fragrance of incense drifted through the air, carrying prayers whispered by trembling voices.
Kin stood beside Vixen, his heart pounding. "It feels… different tonight. Like something is watching us."
Vixen's gaze sharpened, scanning the crowd. "Something is. And it's not just the deity."
The head monk began the chanting, bells ringing in deep, rhythmic waves. Villagers closed their eyes, bowing. The air grew warm, almost heavy—as though the deity's presence was descending upon them.
And then—
A loud crack echoed from the treeline.
From the shadows emerged the villager uncle, his black cloak billowing unnaturally as if caught in a wind no one else could feel. Behind him, a dozen cult members carried torches, their faces painted with red, spiraling marks.
Gasps rippled through the villagers. Some stepped back, but Vixen stepped forward, placing himself between Kin and the intruders.
"Still clinging to your curse?" Vixen's voice was cold steel. "You'll fail again."
The old man sneered. "You think this pitiful light will stop us? The Evil God has already heard my call. This village belongs to the darkness now."
The cult members began chanting in a guttural, unholy rhythm. The flames of their torches flared blue, and the ground trembled faintly beneath everyone's feet.
Kin clutched Vixen's arm. "It's the same sound… from my nightmares."
Vixen placed a firm hand on Kin's cheek, his eyes never leaving the enemy. "Stay behind me. No matter what."
The monk's voice rose in counter-chant, his disciples joining in. The air became a battlefield of sound—holy verses clashing with demonic incantations.
Suddenly, the old man's eyes turned pitch black. He raised his hands, and a dark mist slithered toward the altar, trying to smother the deity's light. Villagers cried out in fear.
"Not this time." Vixen's pheromones burst outward, a wave of Alpha dominance infused with pure protective intent. The mist faltered, twisting away from Kin and the altar.
But the cult leader only laughed. "Fight me all you want, Vixen Seture. Tonight, the Evil God takes everything you love."
And as he spoke, Kin felt a strange pull in his chest—a familiar but dangerous energy, as if the darkness was calling to his very blood.
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