Mortal, your lords call upon you.
"What is it you'd have of me now?"
Watch your insolence, feeble human. Remember we saved your pitiful life when we did not need to. And remember the reward that awaits you if you serve us well.
"God-hood? You think I actually buy into that?"
You have no choice, for if you cross us, we will destroy you. Are we clear?
Craddock took a deep breath, then gave a sharp, imperceptible nod of his head.
Good.
"So what do you want with me now?"
We do not approve of the investigations your new friend Professor Masterson is making. Either get him to stop, or kill him.
"Hey, he's done nothing wrong! What possible threat does he pose to you?"
SILENCE!
The voice boomed in Zack's head; he dropped to a knee, hands clutched on his ears, screaming.
We will not warn you again about your insolence, mortal. You are a soldier. We are your superiors. Obey us.
Zack was on his hands and knees, letting out sobbing breaths, clutching at the sand beneath him. He no longer had a doubt these were the Xan faction known as the Unredeemed, the Sacrosanct, the Chosen, the Grand. Their names were many, but their motives were single; to get back into the Shadowlands, at any cost.
"Forgive me, please."
Perform your mission well, and you will be rewarded.
"Yes, my lords."
With that, the voices disappeared. All that left was a broken soldier lying in the sand of Newland Desert, confused and unsure about his future.