Chapter 20: Crowd Control
I can't move.
The man's body lies crumpled, his face twisted in a frozen mask of terror. His mouth gaped open, but no breath passed his lips. His eyes, glassy and unseeing, were locked on something only he could witness. Over and over. Again and again.
And I was the cause.
My fingers twitch at my side. I swear I can still feel the weight of his mind in my grasp, his terror bleeding into my own. The whispers slither through my skull, thick with laughter, delighted in my action.
"There it is, there it is," they croon, sickly sweet. "You feel it now, don't you? The power. The truth. The divine hand that guides you. You were born for this Ayatoooo"
I clamp my jaw shut, nostrils flaring. I want them out, want them gone, but they are me. Twisting. Rooted. A part of my very being. The worst parts of me. My hate, anger and grief turned into this vile power.
Movement shifts beside me. The inquisitors rise from where they'd knelt, the weight of the moment finally breaking. The woman—the one who recognized my name first—steps forward. She keeps her hands visible, her expression composed.
She doesn't look at me like I've done something wrong.
She looks at me like I've proven something right.