When Billy Ranter’s journal was first released to the public—and on such a massive media scale—many who read it immediately dismissed it as fiction, at least at first. Those who did believe it were horrified at the ordeal Billy went through, but not surprisingly, they also took offense at Chaos’s view of humanity, and his plans for the journal itself. They openly resented how empty and lost Chaos thought people were. He stated his plan openly, as if mankind were mindless sheep, who didn’t care about the truth anymore. He spelled out his plan to the very people he hoped to manipulate. These readers interpreted this as negative, exaggerated, and false, and thought Chaos was arrogant, and had no grasp of what most people were like.
The sad thing is, while many people condemned Chaos and his brazen plan, many also did exactly what he said they would do. And the result was exactly what he wanted—the people who condemned him were collectively, and unknowingly, producing massive amounts of internal pain, resentment, and hate. Those who opposed him, as he predicted, brought the new cult to the forefront, as it started welcoming its members in with seemingly harmless, open arms. Each cult feels so much hostility, judgment, aggression, and disagreement toward one another, that it continues to be the perfect storm of turmoil and disorder.
Now of course, many simply ignored the media blitz surrounding the journal, brushing it off as nothing more than the latest viral spectacle—the latest piece of tabloid fiction. But even those people could not ignore when so many individuals went missing, and disappeared into the shadow, or the light, of either available cult. More grief, more pain, more confusion, and all connected to the worship of the five sisters. Chaos is in his element, and his eternal quest for revenge is going strong.
One of the many points of public hostility was focused on the sisters themselves. And the growing question was this: Why could Chaos manipulate people so directly, but the sisters—other than through the natural seasons—could not interfere with man at all?
I very much doubt that anyone knows the answer to this question, other than Chaos and the sisters themselves. Even the other mystics and I can only speculate. But what we have come up with is more practical than mystical. We assume that the sisters and Chaos are completely different entities, with totally different rules that govern their existence. Chaos’s very role is to set things off balance and to cause disorder, so in a lot of ways, interfering with, and directly manipulating mankind, is exactly what he is meant to do. The seasons, on the other hand, are about the natural cycles of rotation, nature, and the elements, as they pertain to the planet and the sun. Theirs is a set pattern that must remain constant, eternal, and undisturbed—at all costs. Other than the sacrifice that Lenaru made to save us, the sisters have probably never deviated from this pattern.
All this naturally then begs the question: What exactly is Chaos? Is he an immortal being? A demon of sorts? An ancient legend? A physical manifestation of turmoil? As far as the other mystics and I can tell—we assume that he is all of these things.
But despite these assumptions, we are still not completely certain about what Chaos really is. We’ve never seen anyone, or anything, like him. We do not think that he is literally the Chaos in Greek Mythology, though it would make sense that he was somehow the initial inspiration for that ancient myth.
All we know for sure is that he is an extremely powerful being. And while the same could be said of the five sisters, we have never seen any individual physical manifestations of them. The only tangible supernatural beings from the sisters’ story that we know to exist are Chaos, and according to Billy’s journal, the blossom-woman.
The thought of finally being able to weaken Chaos has become a driving force in my life, and in the lives of my associates. I must admit, however, that the thought of taking on such a powerful entity is daunting at best. But regardless of the odds, we must persevere. Fighting Chaos directly will definitely, and ironically, fuel him. But if it then leads to this main cult location being disbanded, and Chaos and his organizations were severely weakened, then it would have been worth it. It may be a temporary solution, but it’s the best we can hope for. Because while Chaos cannot be killed, that does not mean that his machinations will go on unchallenged. I hope, for all our sakes, that we are successful in our task.
Our hosts are making their rounds again, and are eyeing all the new recruits, looking for anything that might be unusual. I’d better go to sleep. I don’t want to draw even the slightest bit of unwanted attention to myself.
MAIN HALL: MORNING BREAKFAST
I did manage to sleep, which was a blessing. When I woke up, honey bread and water were once again being handed out to all the hungry recruits. Everyone in the hall was eating the bread as if their lives depended on them consuming it quickly. I followed suit and stuffed as much of it as I could into my mouth, chewing and swallowing it with obvious enjoyment. I know that it’s the least of my concerns—but I’m really getting sick of this dry bread.
As I finished eating, I noticed that many of our diligent caretakers were going around, seemingly at random, and were collecting the journals of some of the new recruits. I heard them assure several people that they were just eager to read what our experience here was like and to see if they could do anything better. One of the cultists collecting the notebooks reminded us all very loudly, that it was forbidden—now or in the future— to ever publish our journals on the internet, or anywhere else, as no attention should be taken away from Billy Ranter’s journal. He also reminded everyone that not only would violating this rule disappoint Chaos and the sisters themselves, but that the cult would administer the harshest of punishments on any violators. I assumed this meant that they would kill you.
Knowing that the enchantment I put on my journal to ward off anyone but me from reading it was firmly in place, I eagerly handed my open notebook to one of the older recruits who had been collecting them. As soon as he glanced in the direction of my journal, I felt the energy surrounding the enchantment surge. The man quickly looked away and, with a smile, said that he didn’t need to see mine. Faking eagerness, I tried to hand him the notebook again, which caused him to turn away and laugh, saying that he appreciated my enthusiasm.
Being in Chaos’s main headquarters, it was reassuring to know that the enchantment worked, and that there were no other supernatural elements here that were disrupting my powers. If only I could put the same enchantment on myself that I had put on the journal, so no one would “see” me. But unfortunately, I’m not able to do that. Even mystics have limits to their abilities. And since I’m separated from the other four mystics in my group, my powers apart from them are nowhere near as strong as when we are together.
After our caretakers finished collecting the journals, we had another speaker talk to us about the story of the evil sisters. This speaker’s name was Jake, and like Kate, he too was young, fit, and pleasant, and had a very likable quality to him. He smiled as he spoke, and every so often, he would casually push back the thick hair that fell across his forehead. As for what he was saying, it was almost exactly the same thing that Kate had said the previous day. The same story, said with the same approachable energy. When Jake started taking questions from the audience, many of the new recruits were eager to start what they simply referred to as “The Tests,” and were asking what they were, and when they would begin.
Jake assured everyone that we were all exactly where we needed to be, and that everything would be made clear to us soon. Despite my having researched the cult, it surprised me that I had not heard of The Tests. I did, however, assume that there would be different levels, or stages, that new recruits had to go through during their training. Jake’s calming reassurance seemed to be enough for the assemblage, and he expressed how much he appreciated everyone’s energy and curiosity. After answering a few more questions, Jake concluded his talk with us, but before he left, he abruptly raised one clenched fist into the air, and yelled out, “Glory to The Chaos of the Five!”
Without missing a beat, al
l the new recruits and I raised our own fists into the air, and excitedly repeated the chant. Jake seemed extremely pleased.
Glancing around the hall, it was obvious that yelling this short exclamation was a milestone to most of the new recruits. And as I observed many of them, I noticed that they seemed much less physically sluggish. I assumed it was due to their systems having already processed the blossom-woman’s matter in the bread, making them more used to it. But just by looking at them, it was clear that even as their bodies became more physically alert, their minds, and their sense of individuality, were weakening.
As I write this entry, the same cursed music that has been constantly playing, has just been turned up to an almost disruptive level. None of the other new recruits seems to mind the change in volume. In fact, they don’t even seem to notice it.
MAIN HALL: AFTERNOON
It’s like they’re fattening us up for the slaughter, and in many ways, I suppose that they are. Once again, they served us more honey bread and water. And although it has happened very quickly, I am certain that all the new recruits are now completely addicted to, and dependent on, the bread.
And while I have used my powers to protect myself from the effects of the bread and music, it worries me to admit that I suspect a miniscule amount of poison is still seeping into my mind and body.
While I’m not feeling any of the addictive qualities of the bread, the more I eat it, the more I feel the protective energy at my core, pulse and heat up, as if my body is fighting off some kind of supernatural infection. And while the ongoing music is not causing me any discernable changes in my mental state, I often find myself thinking about the “evil” sisters. The fake murder of Lenaru also creeps into my mind whenever the music swells.
Although I’m not too worried about these developments, I’ll keep my eye on it.
MAIN HALL: EVENING
Knowing that the whole point of these journal entries is for public viewing, I think that I’ll make more of an effort to only write when something significant happens. Not to say that this entire endeavor is not fascinating to me, but our custodians seem to just be conditioning us with a trinity of music, bread, and likable, but wholly repetitive, guest speakers. And while I’m positive that this is all a completely different experience for the other recruits, for me, it makes for rather repetitive journaling.
So as of now: More music, more bread, and more enthusiastic speakers.
MAIN HALL: MORNING BREAKFAST
More bread and music, and another chipper speaker named Nancy.
MAIN HALL: EVENING
More of the same...
MAIN HALL: MORNING BREAKFAST
Bread, bread, bread, speaker, speaker, speaker…
MAIN HALL: EVENING
This is getting tedious.
MAIN HALL: MORNING BREAKFAST
It’s been four days since my last entry. I just did not see the point of writing “bread, music, and speaker” over and over again.
But having said that, last night, after more bread, music, and a speaker, I did notice something very interesting. A couple hours after everyone else in the hall had dozed off, several of the new recruits started speaking in their sleep. As time progressed, more and more people started to talk, until eventually, all the unconscious recruits in the hall were speaking in unison, reciting the story of the evil seasons, and the murder of Lenaru. Not only did I have to pretend to be unconscious, but I also had to chant along with everyone else the entire night. If I didn’t, the hosts who watched us sleep would have singled me out. Since the recruits were all saying the same words at the exact same time, I assumed that they were all verbalizing what their minds were being exposed to with the cursed music. At first, chanting with them was difficult, since I didn’t know what words everyone was going to say next. After repeating it all night, however, I now know every word by heart. And although I’m relieved that I didn’t get caught—I haven’t slept at all.
Our schedule has been very repetitive thus far, and the cult’s priority of getting everyone addicted to the bread and affected by the music has been achieved. I hope that this means that the rest of the indoctrination will progress much faster from now on.
MAIN HALL: EVENING
Some of the new recruits were chatting this afternoon and mentioned Billy Ranter’s journal. As soon as one of our custodians heard this, they immediately walked over and joined in the conversation.
The recruits were wondering who Billy was writing about when he described the hall of people sitting at the long tables with the computers. Even if those people were described as being very quiet, they were wondering if they were the recruiters who they had spoken to before being brought to this hall. Our host told them that everyone in the organization began by doing exactly what we were doing, but that after much time and effort, many members achieved a higher rank. Some were also assigned recruiting duties and were allowed the honor of regularly being in the same room as Chaos himself. This was, however, after they’d proved their loyalty to the cult.
This once again prompted questions about The Tests. Our handler gently reminded the recruits that they had to be patient, that all would be revealed to them soon, and that they had already made exceptional progress. He encouraged them to offer up any feelings of apprehension or fear as a sacrifice to one of the seasons.
But as much as The Tests did concern me, I knew I had an immediate matter to attend to. Now, I know for most of you reading this, you might assume that being a mystic means that I can just use my powers against any challenge facing me, but as I have already stated, my powers are limited. And more specifically, my abilities are much weaker when I’m not in the same vicinity as the other four mystics in my group.
I bring this up because I assume that tonight, I will have to once again pretend to be asleep, while simultaneously chanting with the hall of unconscious recruits. This might seem like a small problem, but it’s actually very significant. Like everyone else, I need to sleep. But if the older cultists, who are watching us all night, notice that I’m not reciting along with everyone else, it’ll be a dead giveaway that I’m not being affected by the bread and music.
While I think I’ve found a solution to remedy this problem, it’s far from a perfect one. I’ve put a restorative enchantment on myself that will renew my energy as I’m chanting along with the others. Even if I’m not actually sleeping, I’ll still be in a meditative state. I’m hoping this is enough to restore my energy by morning. I’m not sure how long I can substitute this process for actual slumber, but it’s definitely only a temporary solution. Eventually, I’ll need to sleep. I’ve never attempted this, but hopefully it will work.
MAIN HALL: MORNING BREAKFAST
So the restorative enchantment worked, but not as well as I’d hoped. I was chanting all night, and though I’m tired, I’m not exhausted. It feels like the equivalent of having had a couple hours of very restless sleep. Not to mention, my throat is sore.
MAIN HALL: EVENING
We listened to another likeable speaker this afternoon, repeating the same story with the same predictable enthusiasm. The cursed music is ever in the background and is constantly reminding me of the sisters’ story. I can only imagine what the other recruits are feeling. I assume that they’re already obsessed.
MAIN HALL: AFTERNOON
I had just finished my breakfast, when another new recruit named Phil once again attempted to have a conversation with me. Phil has been trying to get to know some of the other new members for the past day or two, but he’s not very good at it. Not that anything is wrong with him. He’s nice enough. Although he’s a bit robotic, I assume that’s more to do with our conditioning, rather than his personality. While most of the recruits do chat and interact, it’s all in a constant daze. At first, I assumed that Phil was really an older cultist pretending to be new, in an attempt to weed out any information that the cult might find useful—however, after speaking to him, I do not think that’s the case. Despite my best efforts at lo
oking hazy and uninterested, Phil just kept babbling on about himself.
Among other things, I learned that Phil had sold refrigerators for a living. He was the type of person who felt like he had spent his whole life doing everything that people told him was the “right thing to do.” He got good grades when he was in school, didn’t do drugs, and as soon as he could, he started earning a living for himself. He admitted that selling refrigerators wasn’t the most exciting job, but he had grown to like it. It gave him an opportunity to meet and interact with people—which he enjoyed—and it made him just enough money to pay his bills.
The more Phil spoke, the more relatable he became. He always thought that someday, despite all the things he already had in his life, he would end up being so much “more.” He knew it with every fiber of his being. He would either find the great love of his life, win the lottery, or even have his fifteen minutes of fame. But as the years passed, none of this ever happened, and although, like me, he was only in his late thirties, he had grown tired of waiting. The only real happiness he found was with his girlfriend. And while he did not consider her a “great love,” they were together for three years before she broke up with him. After that, he moved into a studio apartment with a view of a pet food store.
Not to sound naive, but as far as I could surmise, nothing was wrong with Phil’s life. In fact, if he asked me—which he didn’t—I would have said that he was very blessed. He was healthy, he had a job that paid his expenses, and for a time, he even had someone to love. But what I sensed from Phil, and from many of the other recruits, was a feeling that their current lives were just some kind of “transitional period,” before another truly great life started. So, as a result, these people were never in the moment, enjoying themselves. They were always waiting to start another better life that they thought would somehow solve everything. They were waiting to meet someone who would take away all their pain, take care of them, and be every fantasy that they ever had. Or they would eventually get a job that would not only make them rich, but globally rich—and famous. These people wanted more followers on social media, more money in the bank, more square footage where they lived, more of the newest technology, more apps on their phones, more things—more, more, more. This combination of not feeling attached to the reality of their lives, and the constant need for “more,” seemed to be factors that the cult used to recruit them.
It Took Billy Page 9