Chapter 3

has a way of sucking you in and then leaving your mind scrambled for weeks onwards. Far Cry 5 really hits deep and leaves you questioning must be one of the best, if not the best in the series.

I thought, I'd return a bit to this fic. Its not much buts it something.

Note: I have changed the ending of the second chapter, so just go back to reading that one before you start with the third chapter. Thanks and I'll see you in the comment section.

The world of the Bliss was vibrant, untouched by the cruelty of reality. It was serene, bathed in a greenish hue, the soft whisper of the wind carrying an almost dreamlike melody. Flowers swayed gently, their petals glowing in warm luminescence, and the water of a nearby stream shimmered with an ethereal light. Here, in this illusion of paradise, Faith Seed stood before him.

Dean lay in the tall grass, his body lax, chest rising and falling steadily as if he were merely in a deep sleep. To him, they were in the Bliss, a haven far from the torments of the world. But to her, they were somewhere else entirely—far from the confines of St. Francis Veteran Center, where he had been held captive. The weight of reality pressed upon her shoulders, but here, in this moment, she allowed herself the indulgence of peace.

She had arrived at this secluded forest clearing not long ago, escorted by a small convoy of her most trusted followers. The drive had been smooth, the mission precise. Now, her followers were securing the vehicles, ensuring everything remained as planned. She had stepped away from them, allowing herself a brief moment alone with him, watching over him as he drifted deeper under the spell of the Bliss.

Faith knelt beside him, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. He looked peaceful like this, lost in the dream she had woven around him. A part of her wished he would stay here, unburdened by the responsibilities placed on him by the so-called resistance.

Faith believed it to be a pointless struggle that only delayed the inevitable. She believed they were acting out of fear and as far as she could tell, they were only resisting the truth.

A soft crunch of boots against the forest floor caught her attention. One of her Chosen approached quietly, lowering her head in deference before leaning in to whisper. "My apologies, Bliss Herald, but we need to leave immediately."

Faith, still watching the deputy, gave a small nod- barely noticeable and, without another word, her follower turned back towards the convoy. It was time.

She exhaled softly before rising gracefully to her feet. Giving Dean one last lingering glance, she turned and walked back toward the armored SUV awaiting her. One of her followers opened the door, and Faith climbed inside without hesitation. The door shut with a solid thud, sealing her away from the world outside as the convoy began its steady departure.

Silence stretched within the vehicle. The rhythmic hum of the engine was the only sound as trees blurred past the tinted windows. Faith stared outside, her mind deep in thought, when she finally spoke.

"Don't just sit there in silence," she said, her voice light but edged with something knowing. "If you have a question, ask."

The woman driving flinched slightly, her grip tightening on the wheel. It was as if Faith had read her thoughts—because she had. A moment of hesitation passed before the woman finally spoke.

"Forgive me, Faith. It's just… why have we spared that sinner's life?"

Faith did not turn from the window. Her fingers lightly traced the frame of the glass as she replied, "I told you before, it's not our place to hold judgment. Besides, the Father wants him alive."

"I understand," the woman said carefully, "but Jacob held him prisoner. Surely, there was no need to take him away?"

Faith sighed, finally shifting her gaze to the rearview mirror. Her eyes, though soft in expression, held a sharpness beneath the surface. "My brother would have killed him—he's made that clear more than once. But that would mean defying the Father, and I won't allow that. Will you?"

The woman swallowed, her throat bobbing slightly as she met Faith's gaze in the mirror. A flicker of unease passed over her face before she quickly answered. "No. No, of course not."

Faith held her gaze for a moment longer before looking away. "Good."

Silence returned, the vehicle continuing down the forest road, the convoy moving in unison like a well-orchestrated machine. After a few moments, Faith continued, her voice softer but laced with something unreadable. "Jacob's methods have become increasingly questionable—to the Father, and to me. And believe me when I say, there is nothing holy happening in those mountains."

The driver remained silent, nodding slightly as she absorbed the weight of Faith's words. A pause stretched between them before she finally found her voice again. "Then why not take the sinner with us?"

Faith offered a small, wistful smile—fleeting and unreadable. "Because I cannot be seen leaving with him. He must come to me willingly."

The woman seemed to consider this, nodding in understanding. Another beat of silence passed before she hesitantly asked, "And the supply truck? Why leave it behind?"

Faith's gaze remained fixed on the passing scenery, watching as the trees blurred together. "Evidence of the escape," she said almost absently. "It was originally planned by the deputy's friend, though it failed miserably. So I borrowed it. My only hope now is that he makes the right choice."

With that, there was nothing more to say. The conversation faded into silence, leaving only the hum of tires against the dirt road and the distant echo of the world beyond. Faith closed her eyes for a moment, exhaling softly as she allowed herself to drift into her thoughts.

The wheels were already in motion. Now, it was only a matter of time.

Dean woke up to the feeling of rough grass beneath him, the warmth of the early morning sun pressing against his skin. Disoriented, he blinked against the harsh light, a groan escaping his lips as he struggled to sit up. His head throbbed, his body stiff as though he had been lying in one position for too long.

His surroundings blurred in and out of focus for a moment, his thoughts jumbled and chaotic. Where was he? How did he get here? His memory was a foggy mess, slipping through his fingers whenever he tried to grasp at it. Panic sparked in his chest until his gaze landed on the supply truck just a few yards away.

And then everything hit him at once.

The escape. His friend, Pratt. The shootings. Faith. The Bliss.

Memories flooded his mind in rapid succession, images of the surreal world he had been trapped in flashing like an old film reel. The Bliss—so beautiful, so intoxicating—it had felt real. More than real. It was like stepping into another realm, one where pain and suffering didn't exist. And the worst part? He missed it. Yearned for it, even.

That realization sent a chill down his spine.

Faith had spoken to him, told him things that contradicted everything he had heard about her. And now, as he sat in the middle of nowhere, those words haunted him. "This is where I was reborn. This is where I was made whole again. And this is where you'll find your answers."

The statue. She had told him to find the statue.

For a fleeting moment, he wanted to abandon everything and make his way to the Henbane River region. But then he remembered. Pratt. His partner was still in captivity, and it was because of him. He had escaped, but Pratt hadn't. That changed everything.

It was at that moment that he realized that he was no longer in the Veteran's Centre and that he must've escaped somehow. But how was that possible? He was taken by Faith. Did Pratt somehow rescue him from Faith? No, he thought. That was not possible. He saw Pratt get captured right before his very eyes. Did he escape on his own, while under the influence of the Bliss? Impossible. There was one other way, but that didn't seem plausible in the least. Pure insanity, and he wasn't going to think about that right now.

His heart pounded as he took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus on the present. He needed to get armed again because there was no way he would get back to the Wolf's Den and link up with the Whitetails without some firepower. This was no-man's land.

Dean's eyes landed on the supply truck that the other deputy had been planning to escape with. He staggered to his feet, shaking off the stiffness in his limbs as he made his way to the vehicle. His fingers gripped the door handle, hesitating only a second before yanking it open.

He searched the truck, rummaging through the cargo. Relief washed over him as he found exactly what he needed—an assortment of weapons, ammunition, and supplies. A rifle, a sidearm, even a combat knife. Food and water were also packed away neatly in the back, enough to last a journey through hostile territory.

He took a second to realize that he might as well drive the truck to the Wolf's Den. They could really use the supplies, and Eli would surely appreciate it. Plus, the truck was disguised in the cultist camouflage, making it the perfect cover for traveling unnoticed.

As he loaded up, his mind kept drifting back to Faith. To the Bliss. To everything he had seen and felt. The way she had spoken to him, the way she had made him feel as if he belonged. It scared him. More than anything, it scared him.

For a moment, he considered it—going to Henbane. Finding the statue. Seeking out the answers she had promised. But no, not now. Not while Pratt was still suffering because of him. He clenched his jaw, forcing the thought from his mind.

He climbed into the driver's seat, gripping the steering wheel tightly. Taking a deep breath, he turned the key.

The engine roared to life.

He had made his choice.

With one last glance at the road stretching toward the unknown, he shifted the truck into gear and drove toward the Wolf's Den, his mind still lingering on the surreal pull of the Bliss.