CULT
Haidar and Henry drifted through the darkness. It felt like they were inside a deep pool, but it didn't affect their breathing. Their hair and clothes gently waved, as if moved by soft ripples. Curious, Henry reached out his hand to feel the surroundings. Sure enough, the sensation on his palm was like being underwater. However, neither Henry nor Haidar could swim freely as they normally would.
The two of them kept slowly falling downward. The light from the place they had entered was becoming dimmer, and below them was a pitch-black area that the light couldn't reach. As they began to enter that pitch-black zone, their bodies slowly faded, swallowed by the darkness and disappearing from sight.
It was completely silent in the darkness, and they were still falling deeper. Henry began to feel afraid—everything around him was so dark that he couldn't even see Haidar anymore.
Crick! A cracking sound was heard. Suddenly, a greenish light appeared. Haidar was holding a glow stick.
Since they still couldn't see the bottom, Haidar threw his glow stick downward. It fell faster than them, and its light became smaller as it got farther away, eventually stopping at one point. Though the glow was faint, the fact that it didn't keep falling proved that there was a floor down there.
Crick! Haidar snapped another glow stick to light their way as they continued descending.
Hoping for a smooth journey was out of the question. Haidar and Henry began to feel that the air around them was colder than before. Haidar gripped his axe, staying alert, scanning around as far as the dim light allowed.
"Hsshhrr… vzzhh… krh'aa… shhhrl…"—echoing voices slowly started to rise from the darkness. Over time, the sounds became clearer, though still chaotic and loud. It was impossible to tell whether the sounds were from someone in pain, trying to intimidate, or laughing. But the worst part was what came along with those sounds.
"AaaAAARRGHHhh…hh…hh…"—a loud, echoing cry was heard. Then, a smoke-like creature appeared, shaped like a face frozen in pain, screaming. The creature rushed toward Haidar, leaving behind a fading trail of smoke.
Since moving freely was difficult, Haidar prepared to strike with his axe. He waited for the perfect moment—right when the creature entered his range.
-
Once Haidar was sure his attack would land, he swung his axe directly at the smoke creature's face. "Slash!" His strike cut the creature clean in half, and both parts flew past him.
Haidar quickly turned around—and what he saw shocked him. The two halves of the creature rejoined almost instantly and then shot toward Henry at high speed.
Henry tried to dodge, but the smoke creature was already too close. It crashed into his chest and passed right through his body.
"Mr Henry!" Haidar shouted, his voice muffled, as if something was blocking it.
Henry was stunned. He expected something terrible to happen to his body, but when he checked his chest, there was no hole or injury. He started to calm down—
—but then, suddenly, his body felt strange, and his vision was overwhelmed by a blinding light. It shifted into a blurred image, eerie and unsettling.
Henry saw a completely different place. Everything looked foggy, and his body was moving on its own. It felt like a dream—and that feeling was confirmed when he looked down and saw that his hands were shackled, and they weren't his real hands.
He was walking through a corridor with three other people who were also shackled. They were being watched by figures in black robes, led by someone holding an old lantern.
Then, the light flashed again—his vision was wiped out.
When it returned, he was in another place. He was kneeling beside the same three shackled people. In front of them stood a line of black-robed, black-masked individuals, swaying their heads side to side while chanting some kind of spell.
Meanwhile, others in black robes walked slowly around an altar. On the altar stood a blood-red urn, radiating an ominous aura.
Those circling the altar carried lanterns glowing with a fierce red light, casting an eerie atmosphere. The lanterns were strange, each having a small compartment on top—like a built-in incense burner. From these compartments rose trails of smoke with a strong, distinct smell.
It was clear—they were performing a dark ritual to welcome the being they worshipped. Judging by the presence of the shackled group, bloodshed seemed inevitable.
-
Henry tried to observe his surroundings, though he couldn't move. All he could do was focus on the vision being shown to him. Amid the eerie scene, he noticed something deeply disturbing—above the altar, attached to the ceiling, was a hairless creature, its entire body soaked in red fluid, hanging as if fused with the wall.
Red, root-like veins stretched out from the creature, branching across the ceiling, almost covering it entirely. It looked as though the creature was part of the structure itself. Its hands were clasped together in a prayer-like position, its lips moving rapidly as it chanted something unknown.
Its jet-black eyes, each with a glowing red dot at the center, were fixed intently on the urn atop the altar. It stared without blinking, brimming with anticipation.
After a moment, the orderly formation of the black-robed figures suddenly parted, forming a path. The group surrounding the altar stopped moving and began swaying the lanterns they held.
From the newly formed path, a small procession emerged. Leading them was a robed figure whose hood was adorned with golden patterns, wearing a golden mask and holding a golden staff in his left hand. His mask bore a sorrowful expression, and the staff's end was shaped like a human hand.
Behind him followed a woman dressed in a red robe and veil, flanked closely on both sides by two black-robed individuals wearing plain white masks. Their hands were posed exactly like the creature clinging to the ceiling.
The woman in red was escorted toward the altar by the golden-masked leader. When they both arrived at the front of the altar, the leader turned to the blood-red urn and raised his hand. He made a lifting motion, and the urn rose slowly into the air—suspended perfectly between the creature on the ceiling and the altar below.
The leader then stepped back, allowing the woman to continue the ritual.
She began removing the robe that covered her entire body. What appeared was a woman in her twenties. Her long black hair flowed down her back. Her eyes were glowing red, seductive and intense. Her face remained a mystery behind her red veil, while the rest of her appearance was strikingly revealed—something rarely seen in public.
She wore a red evening gown that exposed most of her skin, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. Her fingernails and toenails were painted red, and the scent of flowers gently radiated from her presence.
But one thing stood out the most: her swollen belly. It was obvious—she was carrying another life inside her.
Henry felt deeply uneasy about what was about to happen. "This must be madness," he thought. And he was right—something even more disturbing was about to unfold before his eyes.
The woman laid down on her back atop the altar. The robed leader stood by her head, lifting his staff and slowly swinging it while chanting a spell.
All of the other black-robed followers dropped to their knees at the same time—except for the red-lantern bearers, who stood a bit farther back in a circle around the altar, and the two white-masked individuals standing on either side of the woman's body.
-
The sound of whispered chants filled the air. They weren't just sounds—they felt like intrusions, forcing their way into the mind and heart.
The whispers clawed at Henry's sanity, echoing in his ears, like invisible daggers slicing through his thoughts. Every word sent chills down his spine, soaking his body and soul in discomfort.
Then suddenly—"CLAP!"—a loud, single slap echoed as the leader of the procession clapped his hands. Instantly, every chanting voice fell silent.
The leader extended both arms to the sides. The golden staff he once held was now floating in the air—rising slowly toward the creature clinging to the ceiling.
The creature reached out and took the staff, then aimed its hand-shaped tip directly at the red urn and the woman lying on the altar. It began to move the staff in slow, circular motions while muttering another chant.
Suddenly, a red mark appeared on the woman's belly—right at her navel. The mark spread outward, forming intricate patterns that crept across her skin. The pattern reached her forehead, where it stopped, forming the shape of an open hand.
The creature raised its left hand and made a calling gesture. All the glowing red symbols on the woman's body began to lift off her skin, swirling upward like mist, then flowed into the floating red urn.
The woman screamed in agony. The two white-masked figures pressed her down, keeping her from thrashing too violently.
"Hear the echo of a heart scorched not by flame, but by desire." The robed ones spoke in unison, their voices echoing across the chamber.
At the same time, the woman's swollen belly began to shrink. The red symbols drained completely into the urn, leaving her body empty and still.
Then, several muscular robed figures approached Henry and the three other shackled individuals. Without a word, they grabbed them roughly and dragged them toward the altar.
"I open the soul, I open the flesh, I open the time that separates will from fulfillment."
The robed ones continued their chant, stretching out their arms.
Henry and the others were forced to lie flat around the altar, held in place by more robed followers.
The leader approached each of them in turn. From within his robe, he produced a small, sharp blade and sliced open his right palm.
Then, one by one, he pressed his bleeding palm onto their foreheads—marking them with something unknown.
-
"Grant me…
Gold that never fades in the palm…
A throne that cannot be toppled by time…
A life that does not bow to fate…
And power… that even the sky envies."
The chant continued, repeated over and over, revealing the desires and goals of the robed figures.
A sharp blade was then pressed against Henry's neck and those of the three others. They struggled, but their resistance was futile. The blade's edge was pushed harder, and its holder took a ready position.
Henry, trapped in a body that was not his own, felt an overwhelming sense of fear, as though he was facing directly what he had only witnessed in nightmares.
His eyes widened in horror, desperately trying to predict the inevitable. The robed figure pressing the blade against his neck continued the chant, while the terrified moans of the others mixed with the resonating words of the robed ones, building an overwhelming pressure that strained the very soul.
"I do not call your name, yet I summon your presence.
Take your payment, as my will becomes law."
A loud "SLAP!" echoed as the robed ones, their arms still outstretched, clapped their hands in unison, stopping their chant at the same time. In that instant, the figures holding the blades pulled them away. A burst of red liquid sprayed into Henry's vision. Time seemed to slow down, and for a brief moment, Helena, his wife, flashed in his mind.
His vision began to fade to black, and he felt his strength drain from him. It didn't take long before all he could see was darkness.
"Haaaaah!" Henry gasped as he snapped back to consciousness.
He immediately checked his neck and scanned his surroundings. He was lying on the cold floor, the base of the dark chamber—where the creature that resembled smoke had touched him, pulling him into the nightmare.
In front of him stood Haidar, still gripping his silver axe.
"Got a new experience, Mr.?" Haidar asked.
"I… I… My neck… the woman in the red robe… so many black robes..." Henry stammered, his voice trembling with fear.
"Calm down, Mr., I know what you've seen." Haidar said, motioning for Henry to stop speaking.
Before Henry could settle, he noticed something unsettling above him. A swirling vortex of smoke-like creatures was spinning in the air. There were so many of them that the entire space seemed enormous from Henry and Haidar's viewpoint.
-
"It seems they are victims of this mansion, just like what you saw." Haidar guessed, likely picking up on Henry's thoughts.
"You saw them too?" Henry asked.
"Some of them showed themselves to me." Haidar replied.
"Are they the spirits of the victims?" Henry asked again.
"Ha ha, all spirits of the dead return to their creator, Mr. Henry. What remains are just memory residues or things trying to mimic them." Haidar answered.
"Oh right, you tried to attack it earlier." Henry said.
"Yes, memory residues are actually very rare to be seen directly, unless opened by someone with special abilities. And usually, those residues stick to objects, not wandering around like that." Haidar explained.
"Oh, so this is also the first time you've seen them." Henry said, with a hint of sarcasm.
Haidar shifted his gaze around, then walked slightly toward a gap resembling a corridor entrance.
"We can go through here." Haidar said, pointing to the corridor gap.
"Did your compass show it too?" Henry asked.
"Yes." Haidar answered.
"So the compass can also show Helena's whereabouts?" Henry asked.
"Its primary function is to show the shortest path out of The Border. But it can also be used to search for lost objects, if you focus your mind." Haidar explained.
Henry didn't say anything more. He stood up and walked over to Haidar. Haidar broke a new glow stick, and they both entered the gap in the corridor. Tap tap The sound of their footsteps echoed through the silent dark corridor, with no visible end.
But before they could take many steps, the silence of the corridor was abruptly broken.
"Bzzzt… Bzt…" The flickering sound of a light suddenly appeared on the ceiling of the corridor, providing a faint red light that revealed the form of the corridor. The walls were covered in cracks, with raised stains sticking to them. Soon, the walls and floor began to peel, transitioning into a slightly different state, but with smaller cracks and stains lifting and vanishing. The light, originally flickering in red, slowly changed to yellow and gradually stabilized.
Haidar immediately took a defensive stance with his axe, while Henry also readied himself, both staying alert for anything that might come at them.
To be Continue