Many feet shuffled and dark robes ran along the worn, tiled flooring as everyone moved about to prepare for the rite. Lighting up the floor lamps and the chandeliers above, beating dirt and dust off of tapestries, and sweeping away the dirt. One cultist made work to refurbish a drawing on the floor with white chalk.
There are faint bloodstains on the faded drawing, but the cultist continued, dragging the chalk over the stains.
Off to the side, leaning heavily against a support pillar, was a person dressed in a tattered gown and sack over their head. Marking their arms and legs appeared to be rope burns from a constant struggle. The only sign of life is the person's chest moving.
Finally, the leader of this congregation, dressed in yellow robes and accented with black, enters the chamber. Like everyone else, his face was obscured by his hood.
"Ydɒɘɿ ϱniʜtγɿɘvɘ ƨi?" he asked a nearby disciple.
"Ƨɘγ," was their reply.
The leader nodded. "Tnɘllɘɔxɘ." The leader approaches the limp person, removing the sack off their head. The person, a woman it seems, looked really out of it, her eyes glazed over and her face emotionless. Crusted stains of blood trails were evident on her pallid cheeks. The woman's hair looked wiry and may have once been long before it was chopped off, leaving a messy crop of hair. The leader kneels close and caresses the woman's face.
"Ⴇliʜɔ γm, niɒϱɒ ƨυ ϱninioį ɿoʇ υoγ ʞnɒʜt i," the leader murmured. "Uoγ tυoʜtiw ƨiʜt ɘnod ɘvɒʜ ton dlυoɔ ɘw dnɒ ƨυ ɿoʇ ʜɔυm oƨ ϱniod ɘɿɒ υoγ."
The woman managed to have the faintest of smiles. The leader lets go of the woman's face and stands back on his feet, turning to his subordinates.
"Ǝlɔɿiɔ ɘʜt ot mɘʜt ɘʞɒt."
Two of the cultists take the woman by her arm to the newly restored circle, her bare feet dragged along the floor. The woman remained motionless even as the cultists lowered her on her knees in the middle of the circle. The cult members gather around with the leader standing before the woman.
"Niged su tel," the leader said and everyone went on to recite their chant.
Like they did before.
Mυiɔƨni ƨɒnmυloɔ ,ƨolotƨoqɒ mɘɔɘb bɒ.
Iiɔƨnoɔ mυnod ƨυmiɿɘʇʇo.
Ǝɿɘɔƨɘɿɔ tɘ mυυt tυ ƨoɘ ɘɿɘqiɔɔɒ.
Mυtɒʇ inimɒtɘɒl tɘ oϱɿɘpxɘ.
Яυtɘɔƨɒnɘɿ ɿɘtƨon ƨυɘd.
Tƨɘ ƨon ni ƨυdnυm ƨυvon.
At first, nothing seems to happen during the chanting. The woman placed in the circle made no movement, made no sound whatsoever.
That all changed when the cultists recited the chant a second time.
As the cultists droned again, the woman started to shake, progressing into a full-on convulsion, writhing on the floor, as though she was experiencing a seizure. She makes a strangled sound from her throat, like she was choking. None of the cultists did anything, except to recite the chant a third time.
The choking then transformed into stifled giggling before becoming loud, crazed laughter. The woman laughed even as she still convulsed. Even as blood started to seep from her eyes, trailing on the crusted stains. More blood surfaced from her mouth, her nose, and even her ears. The woman suddenly stops shaking and proceeds to bash her head against tiles before dragging her cracked and brittle nails on the skin of her arms, neck, and chest, leaving behind bleeding wounds.
All as she continued to laugh.
For the fourth and final time, the cultists recited the chant and the woman arched back, her spine bending past what should be considered normal until the tip of her head reached the floor. Her laughter grew louder and more maniacal as black lining invaded her flesh, patterned in a way similar to a set of bricks.
Just as the cultist concluded, the woman let out an ear piercing, guttural scream before abruptly collapsing.
"Ǝldɒtqɘɔɔɒ ƨɒw ϱniɿɘʇʇo ƨiʜt," the cult leader said calmly.
One cultist picked up the woman to take her away, blood dripped from her body, and a puddle was left in the middle of the circle.
Another cultist approached their leader. "Ƨɘlɔγɔ ϱnimoɔ ɘʜt ɿoʇ dɘɘn lliw ɘw ɘɿom γnɒm woʜ ɿɘdnow i."
"Miʜ ɘƨɒɘqqɒ ot bɘbɘɘn ƨi ɘɿom γnɒm woʜ."
Engraved in the flesh of the woman's chest was a rightside up triangle.