Snuff The Spark

"Behold! The visage of our forefather! The one who defiled the very gods! Who brought them to their knees, humiliated them! The first of the unholy!" the leader of the smouldering heretics held a patchwork of a mask, its original colouring hard to gleam upon, charred black and molten, it did not appear to have any sort of feature, nothing at all, a blank slate for one to hide their true identity behind.

The man was holding it up like it was the most precious of artefacts, and of course, it was the only physical remnants of The Defiler Of The Holy, this object was infused with his lingering presence, the surface still so hot that the hands of the leader were melting.

None paid attention to such a minute detail, the essence of the original flame that could burn the gods could still be felt from it, never had the fire in their eyes been so strong, so maddening.