True salvation

The cultist who had caught hold of Xander pulled him towards himself and looked into Xander's eyes.

"I have no personal grudge against your kind, but you chose the wrong vision, Dreamwalker," he whispered in a voice so jarring that it sent shivers down Xander's spine. "Perhaps this is your destiny, little vulture."

"Why are you doing this?" Xander muttered, clenching his fists. "You know Shamura is a dark deity. She has no love for humans. She's gonna kill us all!"

The cultist grinned at this and lifted Xander so high that his head nearly touched the thatched ceiling. "Shamura is our salvation. She has no mercy for the Ordinaires but has boundless love for Mystics like us. Once she is freed from her shackles, we will no longer have to hide in the shadows and fear being persecuted for every little mistake."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Xander yelled.

The cultist's grip on the Dreamwalker tightened, making him yelp in pain. As his shriveled fingers folded inward, Xander felt his ribs being squeezed by an invisible hand.

"Do you even know what it feels like to be harassed at every step by the powerless wretches?" the man shouted, pulling Xander close. "The Ordinaires treat us like vermin! No matter what we do, we are always regarded with suspicion. But that's about to change soon. Once Shamura crosses over to our world, she will reshape civilization with her dark fingers and free us from our oppressors. Shamura isn't a name to be feared, she is our salvation!"

"You're a Telemancer. What are you doing inside this vision? You do not belong here," Xander eked out his words, wincing in pain.

Telemancers were powerful Mystics whose special Talent enabled them to use the power of telekinesis to control objects with their mind without actually ever needing to touch them.

However, finding a Telemancer on the other side of the veil was incredibly rare. What was even more shocking was that Xander couldn't access any of the skills or cards, but the Telemancer's powers were completely unaffected.

"He is here because this is my vision," the second cultist answered Xander's question. With a snap of his fingers, he conjured a glowing black card in his hand and approached Xander.

Xander's eyes widened. His greatest fears had just come true. "You're a Dreamwalker?" he asked, fixing his eyes on him.

"How incredibly perceptive of you. Yes, I am a Dreamwalker, my dear friend," the cultist replied. "My name is Moreas Glaine. What's yours?"

The cultist tossed his card in the air, and a gust of wind blew his hood open. His eyes blazed with thunder as if a storm was brewing inside him. Sparks of electricity started dancing on his fingertips, and his lips turned a cold shade of dying blue.

The matted gray locks on his head turned spotless white and the taut skin on his smooth face became wrinkly and loose. The man who had been looking no more than fifty, now suddenly looked well past seventy.

"What kind of card was that?" Xander asked, fighting the pain.

Moreas' lips curved into a grin, and he replied, "I'll answer all your questions, little one. But first, you must answer mine."

"My name's Xander...Nyxon."

"Another Nyxon. How strange," Moreas breathed in a barely audible whisper that carried with it a touch of icy numbness. With silent and measured steps, he approached Xander and lifted his chin with his index finger. "I used to know a Nyxon. A charming woman. You wouldn't know her would you?"

Xander tried to break free with a jerk, but his limbs felt limp. It was as if his strength had suddenly deserted him. All he could manage was to utter a feeble whisper from his parched lips.

"You knew...Nelly?"

Moreas slowly pulled his finger back and smiled. "Yes, that was her name. Nelly Nyxon. Oh, how can I forget such a lovely face! She truly was one in a million." His smile gradually faded, and the light in his eyes dimmed. "If only she had joined us, she might have been alive today."

"So, you're the bastards who killed her!" Xander felt his strength return to him and tried to kick the old Dreamwalker, but the Telemancer held him at bay.

"We should dispose of him and get out of here," the Telemancer advised.

Moreas however, had other plans. He shook his head and replied, "I think he still hasn't served his purpose."

"How are you three here?" Xander growled, clenching his fists.

So far, the beings Xander had encountered inside this vision were all Ethereals. Even the people he was previously fighting beside weren't actual humans, but nameless dwellers of the veiled world who had assumed human forms.

However, these three cultists were different. They were all actual Mystics from the real world.

The old Dreamwalker enjoyed this question so much that he decided to humor Xander with a reply.

"We aren't actually here. These are just fragments of our soul, bound to the medallion. You see, I'm a master of my craft, and unlike a novice, I can split my soul into five fragments simultaneously. And I possess a certain skill that helps me carry others to the veiled world as well. All of us here are just fragments of our true selves. Our actual bodies are still in the real world. What you're looking at are merely manifestations of our psyche."

"You're all a bunch of lunatics!" Xander shouted, breaking free from the Telemancer's grasp.

But before he could charge at them, the third cultist rushed at him like a shadow and grabbed him from behind, holding a knife to his throat.

"You're not going anywhere, friend. Even if you do manage to kill us, it won't affect us in the real world. But I'm not so sure about you," the cultist hissed in his ear.

"A Shadowmancer. I never expected Shamura's cult to be such a colorful bunch," Xander jeered.

"That's right, brother. We are all working together to accomplish a common goal. I'm the one who killed that woman wearing this medallion."

"Why did you do it? She was innocent."

"Nobody's innocent in this world," the Shadowmancer said, pressing the blade softly against Xander's smooth skin. "She was a Harkin—the noble bloodline blessed by Mordred himself. We needed to sacrifice her to tear the veil and bring our worlds together."

"You made a mistake!" Xander snapped. "Her name was Esther Rayne. She had no connection with the Harkins."

The Shadowmancer laughed at this. "Is that what her Last Memory told you? I guess she never knew the truth herself."

"What are you talking about?"

"Esther was adopted. Her parents were murdered when she was just a newborn babe. There is no mistake, Dreamwalker. Your dead friend was a Harkin."

"And what did my sister do?" Tears came unbidden to Xander's eyes as he yelled at the top of his voice. All the angst bottled inside his heart overpowered his human fears and pushed him to the edge of madness.

In a fit of fury, Xander grabbed the Shadowmancer's hands and flipped him over his shoulder, slamming him into the ground like a sack of potatoes. Before he could retaliate, Xander had already plunged his dagger into the cultist's left eye.

The bloodied corpse soon melted into thin air and turned into a mere memory—intangible and harmless.

"You all will pay for what you did to her!" Xander thundered, his eyes blazing with righteous fury.

The Telemancer was about to fling him away when the other Dreamwalker stopped him. "It's alright. I'll handle this fledgling."

"I'd like to see you try!" Xander shouted like a madman.

"Do you think you've won just by destroying one of our soul fragments?" Moreas questioned, resting his darkling gaze on Xander. "You know this meager setback doesn't affect us. We are still hale and hearty in the real world."

"Then I'll kill you in our world as well!" With those final words, Xander rushed at Moreas.

The old Dreamwalker didn't move an inch from his spot but grabbed Xander by his neck before he could strike.

Xander tried to jab the old cultist, but his arms felt leaden and numb. A terrible weakness spread across his body, making his legs quiver under him.

"You and your sister aren't all that different. You're just as stubborn and reckless as Nelly," Moreas whispered, draining Xander of his life force. "I'll keep leeching from you, till all that you're left with is an empty husk of your true self. This is the final goodbye, my dear friend."

Xander tried to resist, but his strength failed him. He now realized the card Moreas had activated before was a corrupted leeching card. It enabled him to drain a person of all his power just by touching him.

With the last ounce of strength left in his body, Xander lifted his left arm, but he struggled to fold his fingers into a fist. Soon his whole body became limp, and a profound darkness smothered his vision.

Moments later, Xander's heart stopped beating, and he lost consciousness. Having drained his victim of all his powers, Moreas finally let go.

Xander's lifeless body collapsed on the cold stone floor, his face shriveled up like a wilting flower, and his eyes closed in eternal sleep.