"INHALE..."
"EXHALE..."
"INHALE..."
Each breath seemed to carry the weight of absolute faith, the kind of belief that could move mountains or start wars depending on how it was directed.
'System,' Jack thought desperately, his mind reeling as he tried to process this surreal situation. 'Please tell me you have some explanation for this madness.'
[Analysis: Religious zealots. Probability of rational discourse: 12.7%]
'That's... not particularly helpful.'
Through their soul link, Corvin shifted restlessly on Jack's shoulder. The raven's supernatural senses were picking up something that made the creature deeply uncomfortable.
Not fear, exactly, but the kind of wariness that ancient predators developed when facing something they couldn't categorize.
"Great Lord," the lead figure continued, his voice muffled but fervent, "we have traveled from the sacred lands of Sanctorium to witness the awakening of He Who Walks Between Storms."
