Büyü Evi burned with the mad intensity of a sun. The witches' coven collapsed into black brick and stone, the ghul all around killing everyone they came across. Hooded witches ran into the woods, tripping over the thick snow as they attempted flee—only to be chased down by the ravaging horsemen chasing them from behind.
The young witch apprentices became cattle for the smiling ghul, their robes torn off as they were tossed around in the freezing, bloody snow. Giant spikes were erected, the witches skewered on top for all to see. And more ghul poured in through the city, shouting whispers in the misty, night air: "Heretics! Heretics! Heretics! Heretics!"
The fires could be seen from miles away. The screams could be heard from farther. Pillars of smoke rose up from the middle of the woods, carried away by the blizzard forming in the sky.
"The Black Prophet's word is divine!" A masked man in silk proclaimed atop a growing pile of charred bodies. "His coronation into Kâhin is marked by the deaths of the old faiths! Wear your masks in proud submission to Him, sadiqs! You are not men while you wear His face! Let all those who do not bow down fear you in this form!" The ghul around him danced and shook their heads, wild snarls and screams pouring out of the grins of their helms.
"All praise is to the Qara-Kâhin!" The masked man exclaimed. "All praise is to the Nasreddîn!"
A new day for the Qara-Suu had begun...
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