
📖 "In the shadow of the blood-red sun, every village bore its altar, crusted with the offerings of those desperate to appease the insatiable gods. The fields thrived only if flesh was given, the rivers flowed clean only if screams echoed, and the people lived only if they learned to love the knife. Yet, as the heavens grew darker with each passing year, some whispered that the gods demanded more, not because they needed it, but because they hungered for the taste of despair."
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