Page 29 of Possession

“Give me a brief history of this ‘Following of Forewarned,’” Aris says. “When I was here last, it didn’t exist.”

“Of course, my Lord. The first gathering was in the year 26 B.C.,” Silva begins, then hesitates. “I only say ‘B.C.’ as that is the unit of measurement. I mean no offense in the mention of the false religion.”

B.C. Before Christ.

Aris waves his hand. “I was in Babylon last. That was six hundred years before this gathering you mention.”

“Your followers in Babylon died, and the knowledge of your existence was recorded but hoarded, kept from the public until a great scribe found the history of the true God in Alexandria. The scripts were kept under scrutiny, and the scribe made a sacrifice of knowledge to obtain the holy books.”

“Hm,” says Aris, thoughtful, while I listen carefully, trying to make sense of the dates and the meaning of a “great sacrifice.”

“After he escaped Egypt with the text, he spread the holy word for a decade, traveling to distant lands. He made a strong impact, though, intelligent as he was, he made the mistake of traveling on Roman roads. He was found and crucified as a heretic. Thankfully, the truth of the Dark Chaos Lord was already spread, and it was easy for another to take up his mantle. When the first true Follower found the holy books, he had a conclave and hosted mass.

“Since that initial gathering, we have grown exponentially in size and strength. From the ashes of Alexandria, to the Renaissance and to today, we flourished in your name. Awaiting your return.”

“Hm,” says Aris again, his gaze switching between the two of them. Roaming. “And I was the only mention in these holy texts?”

“You are the only true God that was written,” Silva hedges skillfully.

I think of yesterday, of the mention of Jaegen. I know better than to ask who or what Jaegen is; Aris obviously doesn’t want to tell me. The only “true God” doesn’t mean the only god.

Quite right, Mary. I believe it’s time to show them what their true God can do.

What do you mean by that?

“The history you described has enlightened me to the true efforts of your association,” Aris says. Abruptly, his voice is his own again—deep and haunting, which, even when he doesn’t intend it, sounds like it’s mocking you. “I’ve decided I will reward you for your endeavors.”

Silva lights up—he practically glows.

“Though those touched by Jaegen will not be blessed by me,” he snaps with a brief flare of anger.

“Of course,” says Silva, nodding. His eyes are bright, despite the fact that he’s clearly been denied, almost chastised.

Aris’ eyes slide to Ryan, who stiffens under scrutiny. He stalks towards him, gliding around Silva like a knife through butter. “Your mind is clear and open to me, almost debilitatingly so,” says Aris. “It takes no effort to see any memory of yours. Especially the worst one. From the book your mother read to you that night, to her scream when your father shot her… It’s all there. I see why you sought me out. I see why you were accepted here.”

Ryan shakes slightly, and all the while I’m wondering how he can really hear through one ear. Either way, he still stares at Aris with blind devotion.

“I see the years of your life you dedicated to my name,” continues Aris, mouth curling. “Your sacrifices, your rage and guilt and need for blood. I see it. Would you like to be the first in a millennium to receive a gift from me?”

Ryan gives a quick, jerky nod, eyes glistening.

“You value strength above all else,” says Aris.

“More than anything, High Dark Lord,” murmurs Ryan as he falls to his knees. “I beg of you to make me a worthy servant. I want to be strong enough to protect you, the most glorious of beings, the harbinger of all and greater.”

Aris thrums with equal parts pleasure and power. “That kind of brute strength comes with a cost.”

“There is no cost in accepting a reward from my master.”

There wasn’t exactly a wrong answer—there was no question asked—but Aris’ flash of approval tells me that Ryan has answered correctly.

“May you defeat any foe,” says Aris and takes a long breath.

There’s no other prelude.

One by one, the blood vessels in Ryan’s eyes pop, until there are no whites at all. His irises go as black as his pupils, the darkness spreading in tendrils over the redness—until his eyes are completely dark. And then Ryan starts to change, becoming something of a nightmare.

With a shout of surprise, Silva jumps away from Ryan. Aris is calmer, simply backing up to watch.

---