Our gatherings are sacred. Each ritual, each ceremony, each communion strengthens the bonds that unite us and the flame that guides us.
An ancient entity that spun threads from the shadows of human desire.
This fabric became a symbol of the stories we tell ourselves — the beautiful lies that cover the painful truth. It whispered sweet illusions to anyone who wore it, showing them the world they wanted to see — until reality shattered around them. .
In ancient circles, they wisper of a fabric stitched from the skin of those who could never be satisfied,this fabric lives.It breathes,It feeds on the desire of others, but it is never full.
This design is a sigil of warning. Look closely—what you see is not a monster. It's your reflection, wearing a crown made of need.
His name is lost to ash. But he is not gone. He breathes in every fist raised to the sky. In every rebel crowned by fire. In every soul that dares to say: “I am my own god.” You’ll wear more than just a shirt. You’ll wear his mark.