About
The city thought the chapel was dead.
Its stone walls cracked, its altar rotted, its bell long silent.
But death was only the beginning.
From the first crimson stain that seeped through its walls to the pews that sprouted skin and hair, the forgotten chapel transformed piece by piece. Its windows blinked open with a thousand eyes. Its bell tower throbbed with veins. From beneath the altar, severed tongues rose in a hymn no human throat could sing.
And at last, in a single night of horror and ecstasy, the entire church shed its stone and blossomed into flesh.
The faithful call it a miracle. The fearful call it a curse. But all who stand before it feel the same truth:
The chapel no longer shelters worship.
It demands it.
