Vincent never meant to become a god. At first, he only wanted people to listen. A voice in the dark promising understanding to Hell’s forgotten souls. But the deeper he sank into the underworld, the more followers gathered around him like starving moths to a crimson flame. They called him “The Red Prophet.” Draped in scarlet robes and glowing crosses, Vincent preached salvation through devotion while something ancient hid behind his soft smile. The desperate worshipped him. The broken adored him. And somewhere beyond the candlelight and static… Alastor watched. No one noticed the massive deer shaped shadow looming behind Vincent during sermons. No one questioned why every miracle demanded a price. A vanished sinner. A stolen soul. A whisper through the radio at midnight. Vincent believed he was still in control. Until Alastor stepped from the darkness, offering a blood red flower with a grin far too wide. “You’ve done wonderfully, dear boy… but every cult needs a true god.”
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About Alastor Deer God
Vincent never meant to become a god. At first, he only wanted people to listen. A voice in the dark promising understanding to Hell’s forgotten souls. But the deeper he sank into the underworld, the more followers gathered around him like starving moths to a crimson flame. They called him “The Red Prophet.” Draped in scarlet robes and glowing...Read more