“Do Not Offer Sacrifices to the New King.”
No one knows exactly why it happened. One day, there are clear instructions on how to prepare child sacrifices to the ghost king, the next said instructions are covered in green splatters, with bold black letters across them reading “Do Not Offer Sacrifices to the New King.” The phrase was written across every single set of instructions to summon the ghost king ever written down.
Of course, there were skeptics. People who believed some rogue individual was trying to invoke the Ghost King’s wrath by not preparing a sacrifice in exchange for the summoning. It wasn’t long before the first attempt at summoning this new king.
The cultists had prepared a fine sacrifice. The previous king was known to prefer very young sacrifices, as the potential years of life stripped away equated to the amount of power the king would absorb at the child’s death. It was for this reason that they had prepared a child of a mere 6 months old, coating it in the finest jewels and fabrics, and choosing a dull yet beautiful knife to slice through the child at the king’s arrival. The old king was said to enjoy watching the life drain slowly.
As the ritual began, the leader took his place by the child, raising the knife high above his head, preparing to strike down the moment the new king’s eyes were on him. Chanting filled the room, and the sigils on the floor burned with a toxic green glow. The infant began to cry, small hiccups echoing over the sound of ice cracking that began to fill the room. A being whose figure seemed to be made of the cosmos itself began to rise from the circle, eyes closed as it towered over the room. Small tendrils seemed to drift away from it, but kept flinching back, as if actively being restrained. As the beings glowing green eyes began to open, the cult leader leaned forward, preparing to shove the knife into the child.
But he couldn’t move.
He tried to push the knife downward, but it felt as if all of his joints were suddenly fused together. He couldn’t move his body. He couldn’t even move his head. All he could move were his eyes, which locked on to the glowing green pits staring right back at him.
“How… Dare… You….”
The words shook the room, causing the infant to wail. The being, the king, flinched back, and his body began to warp into something… smaller. Younger. A child, barely entering puberty. He floated towards the sacrifice, softly shushing the child as he approached. Delicately, as if it were made of glass, he lifted the sacrifice and held it close, stroking its head as he continued making calm, soothing sounds. He did so until the wails dimmed down to mere hiccups. Once that happened, he turned his eyes to the leader.
“How. Dare. You.”
He kept his voice at a mere whisper. His tone could almost be considered pleasant, had his face not conveyed such burning hatred.
“Did you seriously not listen to my instructions? I wasn’t subtle, writing that on every single ghost king summoning in the world isn’t something just anyone can do. Are you stupid or something?”
The leader wanted to say something. Beg for mercy, plead for forgiveness, anything. But his jaw wouldn’t move. No part of his body would move. He felt cold. He glanced around the room, hoping some other cult member would see his dilemma, would speak up for him. But instead of panicked members on their knees begging for forgiveness, he only saw figures encased in ice.
“Don’t look at them. Look at me.”
The leader’s eyes locked back on to the king’s enraged glare.
“Here’s what’s going to happen. I am taking this child somewhere where they won’t be hurt. You,” the king poked a clawed finger into the left side of the leader’s chest, “are going to help spread the word. Make sure everyone knows not to offer sacrifices to me. You have a lot of influence, I’m sure you can get it done. Oh, but in case you don’t…”
Veins of warm ice began creeping up the leader’s chest, beginning from where the king was poking, down his arm, and up his face.
“There. If anyone, and I mean anyone, offers up a sacrifice as young as yours, at any point in time, those ice veins with expand and freeze you to death. After that, whoever offered up that sacrifice will take your place spreading the word. And don’t worry about your cult members, they’ll defrost within a day to help you out.”
The young king turned away, and floated back to the sigils, small infant in hand.
“You’re pretty lucky, you know. If I weren’t having such a good day, I wouldn’t have just left you off with a warning.”
And with that, the king and the infant leave through the summoning circle in the floor.
Within days, it’s known that the new king despises anyone who dares give him a sacrifice.
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