I thank you for thy gifts, Mithras. Now I control the voices…
*Mithras’ dark words echo in his ear as the Apostle begins chanting. Drawing his pentagram of blood, his eyes turn a smokey black as he begins hearing the voices of his dead cultist brethren.
His mind flashes back to when he was little, the Apostle remembered hearing the voices in his head. He remembered the touch of someone’s hand on his shoulder, when no one was there. He remembered being able to hear words spoken in even the quietest of whispers. He remembered spending all night wide awake, curled up in his bed, unable to sleep because of all the voices that tumbled around endlessly in his mind.
His mind flashes back to the present.
Do not worry, my brethren. I will avenge you. Mithras and Corax fuel my every step, every breath. The Cult will help everyone one in this court see the true light of them, and I will see you again very soon.
He closes his eyes, as well as the communication between him and the dead, and returns to the altar to aid the Leader in the summoning.