“What is the main reason that you joined The Chaos of the Five?” The cultist asked me.
“To be part of a group that’s bigger than anything else I’d ever been a part of and to worship the power and glory of Chaos and the seasons.” I answered. I immediately felt all the leeches on my body attempt to tear into my flesh, and even though the skin underneath them was now as hard as stone, I was still surprised that I could feel their sharp teeth trying to gnaw into me. Luckily, the sickening creatures had never stopped pulsating since I first saw them, either on the flesh-globe, or when they were placed on me, so it was not noticeable when they all continued moving as they tried to tear into me. It was difficult not to wince as I felt the fangs of the leeches sinking into the skin on the bottoms of my feet, and I immediately focused more energy to those areas to make them even more impenetrable.
I then concentrated on an old battle tactic I had used once, when fighting an adversary a few years ago. I had focused the electric energy in my body, transferred it to my hands, and let it accumulate. Then I used that energy, and the mystic energy around me, to blast electricity at my opponent. Using the same method, I then focused the electrical energy in and around me, but instead of directing it toward my hands, I moved it toward the bottom of my foot. I did not want to kill the leech, just momentarily stun it so it would let go. I also had to be very careful about where I sent the electrical energy. Although the chair was made of wood, and the straps holding me down were leather, the buckles were metal. I didn’t want the current traveling to any unwanted conductors. If more than one of the leeches fell off me, the cultists would know something was wrong. As I directed the electrical energy, I felt the leech tense, but it still hung onto my skin. I increased the energy, but it still would not release me. Finally, I sent one strong, but fleeting jolt of electricity to the bottom of my foot, and the leech fell to the floor. One of the other cultists picked up the parasite and placed it back onto the bloodied sphere of flesh. To my tremendous relief, the throbbing creature once again attached itself to the globe. I had not accidentally killed it, and better yet, the cultists watching me did not seem to notice anything unusual at all.
“Are your loyalties to Chaos, the five sisters, and The Chaos of the Five, truly genuine?”
“Yes.” I answered simply. As soon as I did, I felt all the leeches double their efforts to rip into my exposed skin, and for whatever reason, the one still left on the bottom of my other foot almost made me spasm. I sent the same jolt of electric current down to that foot and felt as the creature fell heavily to the floor. I tried not to let the relief show on my face. The same cultist then casually picked it up and placed it back onto the bloodied globe.
For the next few minutes, I answered question after question, one by one, stunning the angered leeches off me. Once I became used to the process, it wasn’t that difficult. As the last slimy creature fell off my rib cage, I allowed the accumulated energy I had used to quickly dissipate.
And that was it. The cultist who had asked me the questions said I had passed and proceeded to unbuckle the straps around my wrists and ankles. And as I put on my shirt, socks, and shoes, and picked up my sleeping bag, he reminded me to offer up any discomfort I had felt to the glory of the five sisters.
I agreed and followed another one of my caretakers out of the room. Despite feeling tremendous relief at walking down the corridor, I knew that without my powers, there was no way that I would have passed that test. If anyone was trying to infiltrate the cult and had somehow managed to make it as far as the first test, their life would have ended in an unbelievably gruesome and painful way.
As we continued down the corridor, I noticed that we were not heading back toward the original hall where I had come from. Instead, I was led into another large hall. This one, however, was truly remarkable. Although it looked almost identical to the previous hall, full of wide-open windows and locked doors, a large portion of this hall was covered in a huge explosion of glass. It looked like some sort of magical event had happened and left an uneven burst of glass around everything. Some parts of the glass were completely smooth and transparent, and I could clearly see the stone underneath it, while other parts were frosted, and looked like ice. The entire effect was beautiful, and jarring.
I was instructed to join the other recruits in the center of the hall. They were already being served more honey bread and water while sitting on their sleeping bags. Some of them looked like they were about to go to sleep, while others were busily writing in their journals. Most of them, however, were ravenously eating more bread. I sat in the middle of the crowd, unfolded my sleeping bag, and put my journal and pen on my lap. And when one of our many handlers came up to me and offered me more bread, I gratefully accepted. I shoved that damn dry bread into my mouth, and pretended it was the best thing I had ever tasted. Then after gazing at my surprisingly captivating surroundings, I set to work writing this entry.
THE GLASS HALL: MORNING
When I pretended to wake up this morning, I was still stunned by how the hall looked. With the bright sunlight streaming in from the open windows and reflecting off all the different surfaces of the glass-burst, it felt like being inside a breathtaking crystal that had been roughly cracked open.
After writing last night, I watched as all the rest of the recruits slowly trickled in after completing the first test. And as everyone openly marveled at the new hall, I silently focused my energies, and tried to feel if any supernatural emissions were coming from the glass around me. Despite my best efforts, I did not detect anything.
After a long meditative night of chanting, I was greeted by the morning sunlight reflecting off this eerily lovely setting. And as I looked at all the different ways that the surrounding explosion of glass caught the light, the same cursed music continued playing around me. I couldn’t help but connect the stunning setting to the five sisters—which, I assume, was the entire point of the hall in the first place.
I heard many of the recruits saying that this was a special hall, and that it held secret power. But I knew differently, I had checked it. If I had to guess, I would say that this hall was made by Chaos himself. For a being as powerful as him, this probably took a few moments of concentration before it was done. The result is a fixed setting that new recruits become fascinated with. Their clouded minds see the surrounding beauty and connect it with thoughts of power and immortality. They become even more bewildered and amazed by simply using their own imaginations. It’s a simple but highly effective marketing tool to further enslave the minds of new members. As if this setting is proof that this is the best place to be. As if beauty and alluring scenery gives credibility to any endeavor. But I suppose it works. Chaos knows his audience well.
The interesting thing to me is that Chaos already has his recruits thoroughly addicted, brainwashed, and trapped. Why bother seducing them more? I think it’s because he enjoys it. He wants to totally dominate the wills of his followers. It’s not enough that their minds and bodies are captive, he wants to govern their imaginations as well. He wants to use their own sense of wonder against them.
And after looking at this hall, I have to admit…it works. It’s magnificent marketing for The Chaos of the Five. But at the truth of the matter, that’s all it is: marketing. It’s not magic, or a physical manifestation of power—it’s just glass.
THE GLASS HALL: AFTERNOON
After being given more bread, another likable cultist began speaking to us. After congratulating us all on passing the first test, he began the same old sermon. He energetically spoke about the story of the five seasons and the murder of Lenaru, and even if the recruits had been hearing this story on a loop, they obediently listened with rapt attention.
After the sermon, the speaker informed us that we would be starting the second test in the morning. At this, all the recruits began to holler and cheer.
After the speaker left, someone tapped me on the back. Before I had even turned around to acknowledge him, Phil sat down on t
he floor next to me.
Other than being immensely relieved that he had passed the first test, he wanted to express his excitement at the leeches and the sphere of bloodied flesh that we had all encountered. Although I knew that he was already programmed to worship Chaos and the sisters, he still seemed incredibly proud of himself for passing the test. He thought that soon, he’d have the life that he’d always wanted, and be part of something powerful, and special. Soon, he would belong.
Phil and I continued chatting, and even though his eyes were glazed over and distant, he did manage to express his stunned admiration for the hall around us. He said that he could feel that something both great and terrible had happened in this space, and that immense cosmic energy was coming directly from the glass itself. He told me how some of the other recruits had formulated a theory—that the broken, explosive beauty of the glass was a tribute to Lenaru, and her season of long winter.
The entire time Phil spoke, I nodded in agreement, until he eventually wandered back to his own area. I felt bad for him. I felt bad for all the recruits, and wanted nothing more than to make them wake-up from the poisoned haze that they were all trapped in.
Hopefully, in time, that’s exactly what my colleagues and I would do.
THE HALL OF STATUES: EVENING
After my chat with Phil, I eventually settled in for another night of chanting and secret meditation. The next morning, after the customary bread and water, we all waited patiently for whatever announcement would signal the start of the second test.
I was trying to relax and prepare myself for whatever this next challenge was, when one of the older cultists addressed the recruits. Everyone quickly stopped whatever they were doing and paid attention. The speaker calmly told us that he would be calling names for the second test, and that once we heard our names, to pack up our sleeping bags, journals, and pens, and follow him down another corridor. Other than that, he divulged no other information about the second challenge, or what it entailed. Then he called the first two names.
Not making much of it, I simply watched as the two recruits gathered their things and followed the cultist into the corridor. Unlike during the first test, there were no stationed cultists at the corridor’s entrance, spurring us on with loud chants.
After quite some time, the cultist returned, and called two more names. The two recruits gathered their things and left the hall in the same manner. At first, I thought that we were being called at random, but it wasn’t until the fifth pair that I noticed the pattern. All the people that they were calling had been in one another’s company during this entire experience. I wouldn’t necessarily call them friends—some of them might have said a few words to each other or had simply set their sleeping bags next to one another. Some of the duos had obviously known each other before entering the cult and seemed excited to be doing their second challenge together. I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Whatever this was for, it would not be good.
An hour or so later, I heard my named called. The cultist announcing the names took a moment, then said Phil’s name as well. Glancing at Phil, I tried to mimic the clueless excitement on his face and smiled as I gathered my things.
As we walked over to the cultist who had summoned us, I was surprised when Phil gave me a quick hug before we all proceeded into the corridor. I had the distinct impression that he was relieved that he’d been paired with anyone at all. He seemed happy that it looked like he had a friend—especially in front of all the remaining recruits who were watching us leave the hall.
We followed the cultist down another stone corridor, until we finally entered a medium-sized room. Except for four other cultists sitting on chairs at one end of the room, as well as one empty chair, the space was completely bare. Once the man who’d led us there closed the door, he took the empty seat. Phil and I remained standing, waiting for our instructions.
Phil still looked excited, but nervous. And as I glanced down at the stone floor, I noticed that it was heavily stained with blood. I was surprised that I didn’t notice it sooner. After a few moments, the same man who had led us to the room spoke, and his instructions were very simple. Phil and I were going to fight one another. We could punch, kick, bite—whatever we wanted—until our opponent could no longer continue, was knocked out, or until they instructed us to stop. They also reminded us to offer up any pain and suffering to the five sisters. They warned us that if we pretended to be more hurt than we really were, in an effort to make the fight end sooner, they would know, and the punishment would be severe. This test was to show our true devotion to Chaos and the sisters. The more we suffered, and caused our opponent to suffer, the better our offering.
Thinking that Phil might still find this as grotesque as I did, I looked toward him and was surprised to see that all the dazed friendliness has disappeared from his face. He had tossed his belongings on the floor, his fists were already clenched, and he looked like he was ready to pummel me. Trying to mask my surprise, I tossed down my sleeping bag, then smiled, and thanked the seated cultists for this opportunity. They smiled back warmly, before the same man uttered, “fight.”
I followed Phil’s lead, as we both proudly declared “Glory to The Chaos of the Five.” In the ensuing seconds, a flood of thoughts raced through my mind. We were only standing a few yards away from the seated cultists. If I’d used my powers in any way, they might’ve noticed, and they’d have definitely noticed if Phil’s reaction was unusual. I briefly considered using electricity to stun Phil with my touch, but his ensuing spasms would’ve been a dead giveaway. I also considered making my skin as hard as rock again, but if every time Phil struck me, his joints sprained or his bones broke, that would get their attention as well. Either way, I couldn’t risk blowing my cover. In the past, I’ve made opponents fall asleep. It doesn’t work on animals, and it only works depending on the strength of the person’s will. If their will was strong enough, it doesn’t work at all. Under normal circumstances, I could just blast Phil with bolts of pure mystic energy, but to try doing so without a group of people noticing was tricky. After a second or two, I decided to take a chance, and try to enchant Phil into falling asleep. If I timed it correctly, I could make it look like I had physically knocked him out. Now came the difficult part. Regardless of my plan, I still had to fight him—at least for a while. And while I’m in good shape, and know the basics of hand-to-hand combat, it is definitely not my specialty.
Phil was the one who took the first swing. I blocked it with my forearm and was surprised by his strength. Even though I was ready, I staggered at the weight behind his punch. Phil followed with another swing, which I barely managed to dodge. Knowing a few tricks, I cupped my palms, and slammed both of them over Phil’s ears. When he grabbed his ears from the resulting ringing, I reared back and punched him in the jaw. Now as I’ve mentioned, this kind of combat is not my forte. And while I didn’t think that I’d broken my hand on Phil’s jaw, it certainly felt that way at the time. As it turned out, he was much tougher than he looked. And while I was somewhat secure with my plan of how I would end this fight, it suddenly became a very real possibility that Phil might knock me out. Either way, I suppose that the fight would’ve been over, and we would’ve passed the second test. But I still didn’t want to get beaten into unconsciousness. And even if I didn’t want to permanently hurt Phil, I had to make this fight look real.
As I was about to rear back and punch Phil again, he suddenly pushed me in the chest with both his hands, and sent me flying backwards, and down to the floor. With a manic look in his eyes, he then rushed toward me, and was about to start pummeling me with his fists. At this point, instinct took over, and I used my position on the floor to kick him as hard as I could between his legs. He immediately grabbed himself and let out a pitiful moan as he fell to his knees. I quickly stood up and was about to punch him across the face. I was hoping to simultaneously send him into an enchanted sleep as soon as my fist had made contact with him. Hopefully, the timing of the att
ack would make it look like my punch had knocked him out.
To my surprise, however, Phil reached up and grabbed me by the back of the skull, and head-butted me right in the face, sending me stumbling backwards. For a few seconds, I was completely disoriented, and thought that I’d pass out. A moment later though, I caught my balance. Despite myself, I really had to resist the urge to blast Phil through the wall with an energy bolt. As adrenaline raced through me, I let out a guttural shout that I’d never made before and leaped toward Phil as he was getting up. Before he could fully stand, I grabbed the back of his head with both my hands and kneed him as hard as I could in the face—twice. Since my hands were already around his skull, I used the direct contact to send him off to sleep. Normally, I would not need to touch him for this to work, but since I had to keep up the appearance of the fight, it was a good opportunity. I was more than relieved when Phil fell heavily to the floor, completely unconscious. I initially felt bad for kneeing him so hard, but I had to, in case Phil’s will, like his body, was stronger than it looked. If the enchantment didn’t work, I had to make sure that the fight ended one way or another.
When I looked down at Phil’s limp body, my sore hand instinctively came up to my face. I felt my nose and cheekbones where Phil had head-butted me. My nose felt broken, and I could taste the blood running down from my nostrils into my mouth.
When I looked at the seated cultists watching us, they all had sick, satisfied expressions on their faces. The man who had led us into the room was observing me as I felt my bloodied nose. With a pleasant smile, he reminded me to offer up my pain, injuries, and blood to the sisters.
And that was that. A few moments later, the man who had led us to the room told me to grab my things and follow him, as two of the other cultists each grabbed one of Phil’s arms and dragged him behind us. Another host also grabbed Phil’s belongings and followed us. At first, I had the sick thought that they were going to kill him, and only let the “winners” live. But as we continued walking, the cultist leading the way said that both Phil and I should be proud of ourselves. In the cult’s eyes, we had both passed the second test, and even if they had taken note of who won the fight, the losers had still generated, and felt, a great amount of pain.
It Took Billy Page 11