Ximena stood infront of his five chosen men, incapacitated on their mats, while Grifter stood pale and barely able to stand by his side. They stood inside one of the dilapidated, stone buildings. Ximena contemplated, after all these years, The Dweller finally decides to show itself. Ximena had completed his task and he never felt The Dweller's presence after that. It left him after it got what it wanted. His very own god left him. He did everything it wanted and it abandoned him. For years he searched for ways to get it back: converting others to its cause, sharing its light with his men, testing the limits of the mind, and committing every atrocity one could think of, but then this number thinking upstart comes to him with The Dweller all over him. Ximena could feel its influence on his mind. It was embedded very, very deep. He could practically smell it on him.
It seems The Dweller has found itself a new champion. This confirmed what Ximena already knew. He was cast aside. Purposeless. The Dweller was a neglectful god, but it was his god. But now? Now that he serves another, The Dweller shows up with a new vessel to do its bidding. That bastard would die. His friends would die. His family would die. He would erase every notion of the man's existence. Ximena serves a new god and he would prove himself to him.
Grifter had told Ximena what was stolen from him. The Dweller must not want Mortem to ascend. Perhaps Mortem would pose a threat to it? Who could tell. All that mattered is that The Dweller has sent someone to stop Ximena's new patron.
Ximena heard a knock at the door. "Come in," he said. The dead body of a tribesman walked in and both Ximena and Grifter quickly kneeled. " Arch-Lich Mortem, you've seen what happened?" Ximena asked.
The body stood perfectly straight and still, Its mouth moving to respond, "Yes, my eyes see all on this island. The man's name who did this is Metus. He is our first true test. More will come, the gods shall send their own as well, and if we cannot kill the one, we won't kill the hoard. I shall lend you my eyes to aid in his hunt. Do not fail me."
Still kneeling, Ximena answered, "Yes, my lord. With your help, this lowly man will surely die quickly." The body fell to the ground and Ximena ordered Grifter to take it outside. He didn't want some disease infecting his men. Grifter nodded and walked towards the corpse while rubbing his healed chest.
Ximena pondered his next move. How should he go about killing Metus? Ximena did have one depreciating asset - best put it to use.
Metus, Ange, and Hagan cut through the jungle once again. Metus had told them about the cave he had seen in Grifter's memories, and Hagan identified a general area for them to search. The south-western peninsula of the island was the most likely spot for the cave they were looking for.
Metus kept his mind open to keep an eye out for cult members. He asked Hagan and Ange if that was okay and told them some lie about how he could block them out but not everything. Even if he could do that, he wouldn't. At least this way they wouldn't feel constantly on edge. Ange was thinking about how she would survive, but Hagan was pondering something more interesting.
Hagan turned back to Metus after a swing of his machete. "Metus, how exactly does this though reading thing work? Do you have to connect directly, or do you use some other method?" Metus knew where this was going.
"It's like your brain is saying your thoughts out loud. If I stopped blocking and you it would be like you were talking to me. I can also 'hear' senses as well." Metus answered.
"Hmm," Hagan thought. "So if there was someone completely hidden near us, you could sense that they were there?"
"Yes," Metus responded. "Not only that, I can sort of feel their consciousness too: almost like seeing a star in the sky. They're a bit of light on a dark background." Metus wanted to give Hagan as much information as he needed.
"Good, good." Hagan went back to chopping through the thick foliage. "And the words, they would severely damage or kill Ange and I?" he called back.
"From what I have seen. I've only ever witnessed others touched by The Dweller survive the words," Metus answered.
Hagan thought for a moment. "In that case, we're going to have to do something about the cult. We're all screaming at the top of our throats if they can see us like you do. Not to mention Mortem is after us too and I'd hate to see what he has in store. At least we have you, Metus. You can see them too."
"What do you have planned?" Metus asked. He knew it would eventually come to this.
"We're going to hunt some cultists," Hagan said, nonchalant. "But we need to figure out how to not immediately die, first." Metus agreed that was a major flaw, but could see no other way forward. He thought back to the bandits. Metus had connected to their minds and then said the words. There was no chance for them as his connection was fast as thought and the words potent as arrows. Even if Ange and Hagan could survive even one word and somehow escape, Metus didn't know how fast or even if they could heal from such a blow.
Perhaps he could show them the light? The bandits died to but one word, but then again, Metus had been using lethal intent; afterall, Ximena had figured out a way to show his followers the light, but Metus was not willing to do that. If he was wrong, he risked killing his only allies.
He needed another method. Maybe he could stop the words from coming in the first place? In order to do that he would have to intercept the cultist's tendrils before they reached Hagan and Ange's minds, or he would have to incapacitate them before they made their moves. The speed of thought would be with him and against, but right now it was his only option.
Metus relayed his thought process to the pair, and they agreed it was most likely the best course of action. They were not too keen on potentially having their minds accidentally destroyed, even if their plan left them vulnerable.
They continued on in fear, and over the next few days, they hiked through the jungle to find the cave where the lich most likely was. However, they encountered a problem. Metus had to sleep. While he was asleep he couldn't detect the minds of the cultists, but they could detect them. In an effort to curb this, Metus told them to yell out whenever they began to feel a headache because it most likely was a cultist trying to dominate them. If the words were sent instead, all they could do was try to scream a warning before they die.
It was Ange's turn to keep watch that night. She tried to focus on sound more than anything as a cultist would know where they were and be able to strike at them well before they ever came into view of their small camp. This way, at least, she might have a chance of hearing a branch break or some other careless mistake and be able to wake Metus up.
As she strained her ears, her mind began to wander somewhat. Particularly to the fact that she was in the middle of the jungle hunted by mind-reading cultists while tracking down an arch-lich. When she stopped and looked at it, it all appeared quite silly. But even if she died from the silliness, at least her sister would be taken care of. Metus may lie about information, but he's kept every promise he's made. If she truly did have land now, her sister would be okay. She might even be learning how to read.
'Hello, Ange.' Ange immediately stood and started to scream. From what Metus had told her, a cultist was already connected to her. She was dead, but she could warn the others. 'Hold on, I just want to talk.' The voice quickly said.
Ange froze for a moment. Any second now she could die, but the killer wanted to talk. Her only option was to agree and scream just before he decided to kill her. 'That's what I like to hear.' she heard as a response to her thoughts.
'What do you want,' she thought.
'Merely to broaden your understanding of the situation, Ange.' it responded. She felt no ill will coming from it, yet. Based on that and what it said, it seems the cultist wants her to turncoat.
'You hit the nail on the head, Ange. You would be a very powerful psychic if you just come with me. Ximena would show you the light and you would begin your transformation. I've seen your thoughts Ange: no longer would you be subject to the whims of the moneyed. You would have power over them. You could extinguish their greed and pride to replace it with true men and women worthy of their titles. Under your reign, you could usher in a new era of prosperity for all. The only thing you must do is take the dagger on your hip and take out one of those nobles who sent your father to die.'
Ange went from a fearful freeze to a shocked realization. She could kill those greedy bastards who funneled her father into the war, took his life, taxed her mother into poverty and subsequent death, and tried to take her sister from her all while they lived off the backs of others. They would die for what they did to both her and her sister.
With Metus' powers, she could do so much. She could usher in a new era 'of prosperity' to help everyone. She would be the ultimate queen - able to read the minds of people around her. Unlimited perspectives would be at her disposal. With that power, she would never become callus, ignorant, or unempathetic to anyone's plight unlike those before her.
Ange looked to her hip. Metus had lied to her - had risked her life for her. He was just another puppet master. The world would be better off without him. She walked towards his tent.
Ange unsheathed her dagger as she ducked into the tent. She knelt over his sleeping form. 'Are you manipulating me again?' She asked. 'No, what I have said is true. I have not altered your thinking in any way. If you were to truly come with us, we could not constantly hold dominion over your mind. You have made your own thoughts.' The cultist seemed honest. Even if he was lying and he did twist her mind, the conclusion she was presented with was a good one.
She knelt with the dagger almost at his throat . . . but what if she was wrong? What if Metus had good intentions? What if she had no clue about politics? Would she really be any better than anyone else? If the price to entry was killing a man in cold blood, could she really call herself better than them?
'I see you are conflicted, Ange. I'll just remind you of the danger he put not only you in, but your sister and Hagan. One thought and you're dead, Hagan's dead, and your sister's dead. What kind of man does that to a person? A corrupt one: an evil one.' The cultist thought. The cultist did not want her asking questions. It only wanted her to come to his conclusions. That's what drew the line for her. Another person trying to use her. He was no better and he would wield her as he saw fit without care for her needs or goals.
'Very well. I shall leave you to consider my offer.'