The silence shatters as the capsule opens, releasing a hiss of steam. Inside, Sol's form is revealed—her hair cascading in tangled wires, glinting under the red glow. Around her, robed cultists watch with trembling anticipation, their faces hidden as they chant in unison. The air vibrates with a mix of science and mysticism, as if reality itself is bending to witness her birth.
One cultist steps forward, hands shaking, and offers the vial to Sol. She takes it, her fingers sparking with static, and drinks deeply. Instantly, flames erupt beneath her skin, burning away her memories and reshaping her body. Her hair of wires whips out, latching onto the heart of the laboratory—a pulsing core of machinery and flesh. She screams as the connection fuses, sending bolts of red light racing through every circuit.
Her transformation is violent and beautiful. The summoning circles pulse, casting eerie patterns over the walls. Wings of bone and metal slice the air; tentacles coil around the machinery. The cultists kneel, their voices rising in worship. Sol's eyes flare with crimson fire as she rises above them, no longer human, but something divine and terrible.
The cultists, once lifeless and hollow, are revived by her power. Streams of red fluid pump from the lab's veins into their bodies, animating them with unnatural vigor. Sol surveys her followers, feeling their devotion pulse through her like electricity. She is queen now, her throne built from wires, bone, and the beating heart of the laboratory.
Dragons' blood merges with her veins, turning her skin to molten gold and crimson. The summoning circles on her body glow brighter, casting spells into the air. The cultists offer their loyalty, bowing low, as fluids pump and swirl around the throne. "I am reborn. You shall rise with me, eternal in blood and devotion," Sol declares, her voice echoing with otherworldly power.
Her followers worship tirelessly, their bodies sustained by her power. The walls throb with her presence, summoning spirits of the dead who dance in the blood-red glow. Dragons’ whispers fill the air, promising immortality and vengeance. In the heart of her temple, Sol, goddess of blood and the dead, rules forever—her reign pulsing in every vein and shadow.
