Sargon

Ashtart was already deep in her grey years when she became one of the followers of Baal’Thasar. In fact, she was among the first. She lived in fear that, on the day she died, she would have to face the judgement of some merciless god for the unspeakable sins she had committed in life. Her desperation to avoid the inevitable led her to become the first to experiment with human sacrifices, twisted rituals, and all sorts of abhorrent practices, all at the expense of the lesser disciples of the Order of the Red Moon. She would consume their flesh, wear their skin, graft their organs into herself. With every abominable act, she lost another piece of herself, and plunged her soul deeper into the depths of damnation. As her grotesque figure wandered apathically through the halls of Red Moon Manor, her dead cold eyes forever searching for the next victim of some vile experiment, a group of terrified disciples of the Order decided to put her at the centre of one instead. It did not move. It did not even scream. The soulless abomination that Ashtart had become simply kept throwing its dagger-like stare around, searching for the next piece of flesh to consume, while its body burned in bright flames and sharp swords plunged again and again into its abhorrent mass of organs. The relief of the disciples did not last long. The charred bones of Ashtart rose from a pile of cinders, and, somehow, even without her eyes, the disciples could feel her feral gaze picking them, one by one. No matter how deeply her remains are buried, how thoroughly her bones are shattered, or how many exorcisms are cast upon her, Ashtart’s corrupted will always comes back, clutching at anything it can control. An unstoppable force. Dark and hollow. Mindless and soulless. An evil presence with the singular goal of preying on life.

A scholar king of a long-lost empire, Sargon’s ambition could never be satiated. He could look out from the highest tower of his palace and know that every land his gaze touched belonged to him, yet still it was not enough. During the first Blood Moon, a new and twisted idea crept into his mind: if he could see the stars, then he should also own them. His obsession with conquering the impossible dragged him further and further away from his duties as king, and so his people began to mock him as the “king of the universe”. He turned to the teachings of Baal’Thasar of the Red Moon, for eternal life was surely his right. At night, he would stare into the darkest spots in the sky. He claimed the universe whispered to him in those moments, revealing secrets and knowledge no human could ever attain alone. With every secret learned, Sargon lost another piece of his humanity. At last, he found himself trapped in a hellish dimension: an infinite universe of his own. A universe devoid of any other life. A universe so miserable that all of its stars blaze at their brightest, consuming themselves in haste, unable to bear the anguish of bringing light to a forever lifeless void. Now Sargon desperately tries to escape his prison. He blinks back into our world without control, only for the fabric of his universe to pull him away again. Cold stars shimmer through his fleeting form: a warning to look away. Stare too long into Sargon’s void, and you too might find yourself seduced and trapped in an infinite universe of your own.

A rare philosopher with a gentle belief in the goodness of life, Baal’Thasar was also a healer and preacher who wanted to help and uplift the people around him. And then came the first Blood Moon. When asked what he saw during the event, Baal’Thasar’s words would turn to riddles and fanatical ramblings, strange for someone once so eloquent. People said the event had driven him mad, as he began to subtly steer his teachings toward talks of eternal life and infinite riches, culminating in the founding of the Order of the Red Moon. The truth is that the first Blood Moon blessed Baal’Thasar with a perilous gift. New eyes. Eyes that allowed him to see the duplicity, the avarice, and the selfish hunger of the people who came to him for comfort and cure. Eyes that allowed him to see life from the shallow, self-centred point of view of the desperate souls around him. As he found himself surrounded by those dark, coiling threads of cupidity, Baal’Thasar ultimately lost sight of his own guiding light. He grasped the venomous tethers with both hands, let them bind him, let all of his being become a channel for the insatiable want that he saw in the world. Maybe he started with good intentions. Maybe he thought he could unravel the serpentine threads, eradicate them, shine his own light upon them. But his light was quickly eclipsed, and the only thing Baal’Thasar discovered was that there is no origin and no terminus to greed. It is an insatiable, seductive beast that eats everything and serves only itself.