A year without saints.

TheCoven Wheel of the Year does not follow any divine calendar.
Nineteen festivals mark the cycle – each of these nights distorts a familiar ritual, desecrates a symbol, breaks a law.
What others celebrate as light, we transform into embers and shadows.
It is not a cycle of the year. It is a cycle of fire, blood, and silence.

WELCOME TO THE ERA OF BLOOD AND SILENCE.

The second Festival in the Coven Year.
When the world puts on makeup to hide its scars,
The Kult emerges to display them.

While outside masks gleam and laughter echoes,
Let's turn the tables:
At Carnevale Obscura the hidden is revealed,
And everyone wears the face they deserve.

On this night, the fool reigns –
not as a figure of fun, but as a prophet of chaos.
He preaches in mockery, blesses with lies,
and leads the procession of the fallen through smoke and the sound of bells.

Because what some consider exuberance,
For us, it is purification through mockery.
A dance in a circle, until masks and souls break at the same time.

Welcome to the Carnevale Obscura –
where the madness begins, before the year awakens.

Nobody knows when he first appeared.
One step, one laugh, one leap into the void –
That's how each of his stories begins.

The fool has no name, only a bell made of bones.
and in his hand a mirror that recognizes no one.
He travels from festival to festival,
and leaves behind faces that will never find the same smile again.

It is said that whoever meets him hears his own laughter.
from a mouth that no longer belongs to him.

That night he dances through the streets of the Kult,
He steps on crowns, kisses wounds, mocks the sun.
And when the last laughter fades away,
He whispers the sentence that keeps the circle turning:

"Everything begins where meaning ends."

Then he moves on –
a king without a kingdom, a god without a temple,
the fool in the endless carnival.