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Crazies Raising Crazies: The Twisted Eclipse

Under a moon as red as spilled wine, Gerard knelt within a circle of salt and bones, whispering the incantation to raise a fallen disciple. His robes fluttered in the night breeze, and his eyes gleamed with mad devotion as he called upon the Moon of Eternal Madness.

But something went wrong.

The ground trembled, and a foul, scorching heat radiated from the summoning circle. A figure burst forth, not in the expected shroud of lunar shadows but in a blaze of golden light. Gerard stumbled back, eyes wide as a man draped in ancient, sun-marked robes emerged, his eyes glowing like twin suns.

"Who dares disturb my slumber?" the figure bellowed, his voice echoing with the arrogance of centuries. "I am Timothee, High Priest of the Forgotten Sun. Who are you to call me from the ashes?"

Gerard blinked. "The... Moon’s light brought you here," he stammered. "I sought to raise my brother in the Lunatic Order."

Timothee sneered, flicking a wrist as if brushing away the words. "Your moon magic is laughable. You summoned me—Timothee the Unyielding, devout worshiper of the Day of Reckoning!" He glanced around at the circle of bones and scoffed. "You use such petty tools for rituals?"

Gerard’s lips curled into a defiant grin. "And what of your relics? I see none but your ridiculous sun motifs. What good is a ‘Day of Reckoning’ when you’ve been buried for centuries?"

The two stared each other down, both itching to prove their cult’s superiority. Gerard raised his hands, muttering a chant that made the air shimmer with ethereal darkness. Timothee retaliated with a flicker of sunlight that carved through the night. The air crackled with clashing energies—madness and radiance, shadow and flame.

With each spell cast, reality twisted and warped; trees bent like melted wax, stars spiraled out of the sky, and time itself seemed to hiccup. As the chaos grew, the lines between their magics blurred, creating something new—something neither cult had ever imagined.

Amid the madness, they found themselves laughing—first in spite, then in genuine glee. It seemed the more they fought, the closer their magics merged, forming a swirling dance of dark and light.

Timothee smirked as the ground beneath their feet cracked open. “Perhaps this Lunatic Order is not as hopeless as I thought.”

Gerard grinned back, eyes gleaming with newfound madness. “And perhaps the Forgotten Sun has its uses after all.”

And so, from that night onward, the world knew of a new cult: the Order of the Twisted Eclipse.