Archive of Our Own

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I will show you how humanity was saved by a benevolent, merciful god.

Know now, that despite your feeble mind grasping onto these threads of history, you will never understand fully what has occurred. I have been blessed with the sight of memory, and yet I do not understand either. All I am here to do is to retell history, as it is my purpose. A purpose I will always bear with the greatest gratitude, for I have been gifted.

Fate does not favour you yet, but do not fear. It will all be worth it. You will be saved, as I have been.

– The Documentarian

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

ACT I: PROPHET

A light beige file skidded across the metal table, sliding up to where Detective Joshua Dun sat, spinning absently in his chair.

“They call him ‘The Shepherd’, but he’s got a less fucked-in-the-head name too,” Mark pursed his lips, studying the image staring up towards the roof as Josh opened the file. “His name’s Tyler Joseph. Columbus born, left his family home with a friend when he was nineteen. Ended up here.”

Josh chuckled, kicking his feet up onto his desk while he flipped through the file. “What sort of name is that? The Shepherd? Get real.”

Blurred photos of Tyler’s face accompanied typed pages of interviews, a missing persons report from 2007, and a college class enrolment form. A smudged set of inked fingerprints flitted around upon a photocopied slip of pale green paper. Josh’s thumb slipped the most distinct photograph out of the file, holding it closely, as if trying to memorise Tyler’s features.

“Looked like a nice kid, back then,” Josh remarked, eyebrows furrowed at the discrepancy between Tyler’s appearance and his actions. “Not anymore, I guess?”

“Nothing nice about being the leader of a cult, Josh.”

Josh started rummaging through another set of files. “His followers wouldn’t call him a cult leader though, would they?”

“Yeah, but that’s because they think he’s going to save them from something. They think he wishes the best for them, which is not at all the case.”

“Sure,” Josh muttered, and reached for a document tucked behind a few others just like it.

A missing persons report dated 2015. Thumbing through the rest laid out a near-decade of other disappearances, it seemed the commune was potentially far less peaceful than it appeared to be.

“They don’t join the cult by choice, do they?”

Mark chuckled. “Some might be that crazy. They all vanish anyway. And if they’re in the commune, with no technology around, they won’t even know they’re being looked for.”

The fluorescent lights flickered above Josh briefly as Mark pushed another page over. This one, too, was photocopied, with its distinct shadowed blemishes and blurred text. A photo, colours faded, was paperclipped to the edge of the printed page. Bright green leaves flowered, blanketing a field beside what seemed to be an old shed, and a dark, foreboding smudge of ink covered a small corner of the photograph. Josh lifted the photograph to his face, studying the darkness.

“Oh, yeah, right,” Mark interrupted Josh’s intense study, “that’s not a misprint.”

Josh’s expression twisted with confusion until Mark handed him a separate set of photographs. One showed a collection of the same bright green leaves, and the other a closer look at what Josh had assumed to be the smudge of ink.

“It’s a plant?”

Mark nodded, eyebrows raised. “Yeah. Salvia divinorum—diviner’s sage. It’s a hallucinogen. Not only a bizarre thing to grow in large amounts, but also

incredibly

illegal.”

Josh’s eyes were fixated on the deep, almost black leaves of the salvia plant in the second photograph. Compared to the other image, these plants looked sickly. Half-dead, even. Their disease almost seemed to seep through the paper in Josh’s hands. Setting the photograph aside, Josh could’ve sworn his fingertips were stained with that impossible indigo, but with a second look he reassured himself otherwise.

Lifting his mulberry-purple thermos to his lips, Mark observed Josh in silence. Josh’s nose wrinkled at the smell of what was inside—Mark was a devout green tea drinker, which was something that Josh thought was better off poured into the garden.

“So…” Josh began, setting aside the photographs, “do you know if they’re gonna be force feeding me this hallucinogen?”

Mark smiled lightheartedly at the sentiment. “It’s not going to end up on your record, if that’s what you’re asking. We think they use the salvia for their… rituals.”

“Rituals?”

“Yeah, when this guy,” Mark pointed at the picture of Tyler at the front of his file, “makes up some shit and hopes it comes true.”

Josh glanced back over, taking Tyler’s image in again. He really could be just a damn good liar.

“Have they ever come true? Even as a coincidence?”

A glaze crossed over Mark’s eyes as if he was trying to retrieve the memory. “Yeah, I’d say so. How does predicting a major life event—down to the day—five years in advance, sound?

“Sounds like a lucky guess, and downright impossible,” Josh raised his eyebrow at the suggestion.

Mark just shook his head, smiling, thermos in hand. He leaned back in his seat to allow Josh to take in the details of the files before the detective, taking another sip of his tea, thick-framed glasses steaming up in response. Even here, in his work uniform, Mark was consistently the most intimidating and most comforting figure in the entire department: thick beard, broad shoulders, but the kindest eyes and rosiest cheeks.

Josh always gravitated towards those kinds of people: rough on the outside, soft on the inside. His dog, Jim, was no different, fascinated by Mark the moment the retriever’s eyes landed upon him—and, lucky for Jim, Mark had agreed to take care of him while Josh was gone. It would only be a few weeks, anyway. In, get information, out, gone. An easy thing in concept, really, but much harder in practice.

The detective would have to fully play into the cult’s delusions. Go to their rituals, work in their routine like clockwork, and follow their leader blindly. Josh was fully prepared to do all of this, just for the sake of information, even if it scared the shit out of him deep down. He assured himself his precarious position within the commune was held in an enormous safety net: if disaster struck, if things got out of hand, Mark and a band of his coworkers would be on their way.

Josh tore his gaze from the collection of files, meeting Mark’s watchful eyes. “I think I’m ready. Anything else I need to know?”

“I think you’re all good, man.”

///

Gravel crunched beneath Josh’s worn work boots. Beside him, spindly trees reached out with crumbling limbs, bright pear-green leaves dappling the spring sunlight. He’d been dropped off on the outskirts of Townsend, the closest town—but he hadn’t exactly kept track of where he was walking, just that he’d strayed far from civilisation. Mark had simply given him verbal directions, so Josh hoped that if he had to get out of there, he’d be told where to run.

For the commune, being so far out in the middle of nowhere was a blessing: the only people who would ever dare to cross into their territory would be those in search of their Shepherd. Josh supposed this was why nobody stood guard around the perimeter—whoever was wandering in was not a threat. In the commune’s glassy eyes, infiltrated by Tyler’s teachings, anybody who sought out the commune wanted nothing more than to be saved.

It was Josh’s job to keep his lost soul façade up and keep their collective defenses that far down for a few weeks, long enough to gather evidence until his colleagues could properly raid the place. Then Tyler and his inner circle would go to prison, his followers would lose momentum, and the precinct would celebrate with drinks at the gaudy pub down the street from the courthouse. Man, Josh could picture it already.

He’d have to endure the cult’s practices and routines for a while, first. Josh shut down the excitement with a suffocating blanket of concentration and dedication, following the path.

Rusted skeletons of fencing fell half-dead beside the road, trapped in perpetual decay. Josh could see the greenery of the salvia fields now, nestled within the trees, blending in with the wilderness. A farmhouse rose from the growth, ancient and yet somehow youthful, the deft hands of repair patching it back together. Figures, no more than the size of ants from afar, milled across the land between the fields. As Josh approached closer, a pale stone tower emerged from behind the foliage.

The threshold to the commune, a maintained wooden fence, welcomed Josh’s shadow. He passed through, as silent as a ghost through walls, invisible hands coaxing him towards the tower. The movements to him felt automatic, instinctual, and for a brief moment, Josh forgot entirely that he was here for any purpose other than to bear witness to such a peaceful, secluded place.

A myriad of faces worked in the fading heat, clothing consistent shades of pale hazel and flint. They watched him intently—curious about their new arrival, perhaps—but also paid him no mind as he wandered past them. Their fascination came and went in glimpses, almost like flashes of light as a meteor enters the atmosphere.

Josh found himself unsettled by how

content

everybody seemed here. Picking salvia in the heat seemed like the least pleasurable experience you could have in a place like this, and yet they all continued their jobs. They were devoted to that vivid green, leaves with their sharp points accompanying tiny droplet blooms of lilac. Josh tried to place himself in their position, imagining himself in those loose linens, hands clutching at the herb, but couldn’t.

“Looking for someone?”

Josh, torn out of his dazed observations, found himself in the shadow of the stone tower. Before him stood a man wearing a faded plum tunic, hand-sewn, with his head clean-shaven and narrow umber eyes watching carefully. To be fair, Josh

was

looking for someone—multiple people, really—but it seemed he had been interrupted by The Shepherd himself.

Tyler.

“You could say that,” Josh tried to nail down the stammer on his tongue. “I was looking for you, actually.”

Tyler smiled wryly, a strange knowing teasing his expression. Josh could see the faintest smudge of purple on the inner edges of the commune leader’s lips, wine-dark and staining in its vividness.

Josh awkwardly stuck his hand out. “I-I’m Josh.”

“Josh,” Tyler echoed quietly, not taking the hand—only staring at it absently for a few moments before Josh forced his hand back.

The way Tyler studied Josh made Josh’s stomach twist. His stare felt like the gaze of a predator hiding in the grasses, waiting for the right moment to pounce. Did he look at all of his… disciples… like this? Did they all feel as though they were about to be swallowed into that purple-tinged mouth when Tyler looked at them?

“I believe I may have had a vision about you, Josh,” Tyler pursed his lips, eyebrows furrowed slightly in thought. “I… recognise your face.”

Oh boy

, Josh thought.

Here we go.

Nothing could have prepared him for what Tyler would say. It could have been anybody in his shoes, and they would still have to fight the urge to run as far away from the commune as possible. Josh didn’t know why he didn’t run. He should have, but he didn’t. There were people here he needed to find and save from this

monster

in charge.

“You, Joshua, will die for me one day. I have seen it, and so it will be.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“...and we eat our meals here. The kitchen is just around the corner, which is where I work!”

Debby, a bright young woman with rosy cheeks, was giving Josh a short tour of the commune. Josh was trying to pay attention, he really was—and he felt bad for wasting Debby’s time—but Tyler’s voice kept echoing through Josh’s mind. Incessant repetition deafened the detective. He couldn’t stop thinking about that fucking—

You, Joshua, will die for me one day.

It had to be a ploy to unsettle him. It had to be. Tyler was just getting into his head, because that was what cult leaders did. Josh clenched his hands into fists, hoping dearly that nobody could see the tension in his body, about to snap like a hyperextended rubber band. He felt as though he was about to crack his teeth with how hard he was biting down.

The phone strapped to his leg, hidden underneath his cargo pants, weighed heavy. A strange guilt ate at Josh, nerves shrivelling. Why was he so nervous? This was his job. He had a job to do. Tyler was getting into his head. Josh blinked

hard

, trying to redirect his attention back to Debby. She was staring at him expectantly but didn’t seem bothered by the way Josh had completely retreated into his head for a moment.

“Are you alright, Josh?”

Josh forced a smile, flashing teeth. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Keep going.”

Debby had taken Josh from building to building, skipping the salvia fields—perhaps he wasn’t to be trusted around them, yet. They’d passed the bathhouse first, its warm, steamy atmosphere comforting to Josh’s erratic mind. Further onwards, Josh had caught a glimpse of the storehouses, previously dilapidated farmhouses transformed into something new and shiny. Everything was so perfect, it was almost grating to Josh.

He had expected it all to be unusual, unsettling. Why did he feel oddly comforted here?

Maybe they were just making everything look good for him. Maybe, by the time Josh settled in and passed the point of no return, every little thing in the commune would go sour, a bitter taste in his mouth, a terrible ache in the roots of the trees.

The dining hall was expansive yet cosy, the central area of what had once been a sheep shed converted into a warm, sunlit room with handcrafted tables and chairs filling the space. Each chair and bench and table was slightly different from the next, the wood a slightly different shade, legs of furniture slightly wonky. One candle was on each table, prepared in time for sunset when the natural light began to fade.

Hallways that branched away from the dining hall led to the rooms assigned to the commune members, dimly lit where windows were absent. Debby led Josh towards the kitchen, a small doorway to the side of the dining room the only indicator of its location. The steady hum of people milling about inside enveloped the pair, the occasional clatter of a spoon against porcelain the only interruption.

Josh’s throat constricted as he noticed the distinct purple shade of Tyler’s tunic, perfect and unblemished, inside of the kitchen. Tyler casually watched members cook with wandering eyes, gazing upon the meals being prepared for the evening. The meaty, vivid scent of a stew bubbling away on a gas stove forced Josh’s mouth to water, stomach growling quietly.

Under the gaze of the Shepherd, Debby glanced back at Josh with her wide hazel eyes. “I hope I see you around, Josh.” She smiled a little as they parted ways, thoughtful expression lingering longer than it should have.

Tyler approached Josh, that same hungry look in his eyes as before.

“So, Joshua,” Tyler started, raising his eyebrows, approaching the question Josh had been dreading, “would you like to stay?”

He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to. God, he had to get out of here.

“To have the chance to be saved—of course, I would love to.”

Josh swallowed hard, hoping desperately Tyler couldn’t feel the nervous energy practically radiating off of him. The smile he had forced onto his face was starting to ache, almost as if it was setting into place like drying clay. It was going to be plastered across Josh’s expression for eternity unless he broke out of it. Lucky for him, Tyler gifted him a new distraction: a package, wrapped in butcher’s paper, tied up neatly with twine. A note sat perfectly nestled between two threads.

Tyler placed a careful, slender hand on top of the package. “Some new clothes for you. Please leave behind your old clothes in the wrapping just beside the door to your quarters. I will take care of it.”

“Okay. Thank you, my Shepherd,” Josh replied, mouth dry at the usage of the title for Tyler.

It sickened him. How did a man, no different than Josh, demand to be called such a thing? Tyler was a liar and a fraud, nowhere near deserving of the amount of people who seemed to bow before him. At the same time, however, Josh had noticed how Tyler never had others do his dirty work. He was present, visible, unafraid to take upon the mundane tasks no glorious leader would undertake. The range of values Tyler upheld collided in catastrophic fashion, fighting against one another.

By the time Josh glanced up from the parcel in his arms, Tyler had disappeared into the shadowed halls of the living quarters. His presence in the commune seemed to be like a flickering light, vanishing as quickly as he appeared.

Josh thumbed at the note at the top of the package. With neat, cursive handwriting he could only assume to be Tyler’s, there were directions to his assigned room. It was all packed so neatly, almost as if Tyler knew that Josh was going to stay. Maybe that was how it always went: somebody arrived, was given a tour, and agreed to stay without a second thought.

Though, to be fair, Josh had

many

second thoughts. He just didn’t have a choice in the matter.

Then, Josh’s eye caught the words at the top of the note, addressing it to him.

My Chosen

Josh’s mind was set off faster than a firework. He didn’t even realise he was walking as his thoughts raced.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. What does that mean? I don’t want to be his anything. I don’t want to be his.

It was wrong. It was all so wrong. Josh walked himself deeper into the maze of the living quarters, burning skin illuminated only by the fading sunlight. His limbs ran on autopilot as his mind remained elsewhere, desperation clawing at his spinal cord. What was Tyler going to do to him? Did Tyler

know

Josh was a cop?

It was a ploy to get him more unsettled. It had to be. Josh’s sight blurred as he tried to justify the words used to refer to him. His name was Josh. He wasn’t a person to belong to anyone, especially not a deluded man who drugged up his so-called followers and told them he was seeing the future. After maybe kidnapping them. Fuck, he was

so

in over his head.

To be the Shepherd’s chosen was something that meant nothing to Josh at that point in time, and yet there was an intense fear woven through the concept. He needed to get the fuck out of here before Tyler did something to him. Tyler was going to open his purple-stained maw and bite down on Josh’s jugular, a lion and an antelope, prey bleeding out with nothing but pain in its periphery.

Josh stumbled through the doorway to his room. He slammed the door behind him, the frame shuddering. Without taking any notice of the interior, the detective tossed the parcel aside and sunk onto the mattress along the left wall, his head cradled in his shaking hands.

Get it together, man!

The phone strapped to Josh’s leg was burning a hole through his muscle. He kicked aside his boots and his socks soon joined the pile, casting away his connection to the outside world piece by piece. Josh pulled his cargo pants down to mid-thigh and wrenched his phone from its holster, unrooting his upset. He shoved it underneath the mattress, smothering the flames, and breathed deeply to clear the lingering discomfort.

He hadn’t really considered where he’d hide his one contraband item, his only lifeline connecting him to the precinct for information and even rescue if it ever came to that. Josh hoped desperately that Tyler wasn’t controlling enough to do room checks—or his death may very well be in Tyler’s hands. As if his current fate wasn’t already precarious enough with that horrible title bestowed upon him.

The label bearing it was taunting him from where it landed on the floor, somehow still face-up because Josh would be that unlucky. Begrudgingly, Josh pulled his cargos back to his hips and stood to retrieve the parcel. Tyler told him to dress in his new clothes, and he couldn’t stall and risk raising suspicion. Lifting the parcel, Josh placed it onto the bed, unravelling the twine surrounding the butcher’s paper.

He tore through the paper, the shreds falling down onto the planked floors below. Josh froze as he registered what was inside.

A bundle of clothing, just like Tyler said. That was fine. The colour, however, was far less

fine

.

White, as pure as the snow. The closest thing to holiness in physical form.

Josh had to suppress the urge to close his hand into a fist and launch it into the wall beside him. There was something terribly wrong with the way he was being treated already. All through the compound, during Debby’s tour, nobody else had worn white. Everybody else’s clothes were shades of tan and grey, light and indistinct. Two colours that made sure everybody was perfectly uniform and blended in with one another.

The only person who wore any other colour was Tyler—his purple. Josh was being displayed like a fucking painting, gilded in white linen. He wanted to be sick. He had to distract himself.

If he ended up being sacrificed or something, Josh was going to come back as a ghost

just

to haunt Mark. He’d knock over vases and steal Mark’s left shoe of each and every pair. He’d pull individual hairs from Mark’s beard while he slept. Anything slightly annoying to quietly bother his coworker would be enough of a punishment for sending Josh out here to die.

For now, sacrifice-free, Josh had to bite his tongue and do as the Shepherd willed.

Josh brought the clothing back over to the bed, perching at the edge. With shaking hands, he unfolded the bundle to properly reveal his new outfit: a tunic and wide-legged pants, paired with leather sandals. Simple, at least, but the colour alone still made his stomach twist into clove hitch knots.

He reached for the hem of his t-shirt, peeling it off before he could overthink it. His chest wasn’t bare long before stark linen came down to replace the pilling cotton, a familiar texture with foreign weight sinking into the skin laid beneath. His choker necklace was on full display above the notched neckline, a slight reprieve from the sight just below.

It was uncanny, half-clad in the Shepherd’s chosen garments, the glimmer of the metal and pearls still tethering him to a recognisable appearance. Would Tyler even allow him to keep it on? The muted colours of the cultists’ dress could point to some value in repelling vanity, a tenet of humility, ‘

follow the flock.

’ Even so, Josh wouldn’t remove it unless he absolutely had to.

He’d taken a last look at himself before shucking his cargo pants off to kick into his discarded t-shirt. The linen pants slipped over his hips, waistband snug without being too tight, hemmed right at his ankles. No less uncomfortable all dressed in white.

Last to adorn Josh were the sandals, slipped onto his feet as he stood on fresh legs. Right away he felt unease settling on his shoulders, walking in higher gravity, the weight of wet cement. A morbid sort of curiosity seized him, the sudden urge to see his new form.

The room was barren, Josh expected as much, his bed the focal point with little else surrounding it. A wooden table served as a nightstand, and on the far wall was a clouded mirror, right about head height from the looks of it. With cinder block steps Josh made his way over.

Even through the hazy glass, it was undeniable: the clothes fit like they were made just for him.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Josh lifted a spoon of oatmeal into his mouth, the sweetness of honey interwoven between the grains. Beside him, Debby sat with him, though like many that morning, she had first eyed the stark white linens on Josh’s body, the difference between his and her colours distinct. She only stopped for a second—but that second was enough to tell Josh enough of what was racing through her mind. There was a confusion there, only triumphed by something stranger: a faint reverence.

The sea of faces in the dining hall undulated softly as commune members came and went, preparing for their work. Unlike the faces, however, the constant drone of voices remained the same no matter how many people were inside of the hall. Tyler was sat among another group of followers, purple tunic sticking out like a bloodstain on a sheet. Josh couldn’t bear to be any closer to the man, especially now with the knowledge that Tyler considered Josh to be

his

.

Debby shifted in her seat, grabbing ahold of her bowl. “Gotta get back to work, Josh. See you later?”

“Sure,” Josh echoed, only half-present in the moment.

He could see Tyler approaching him from the other side of the hall. Josh’s mouth went dry, the appetite he had for his breakfast now gone. It didn’t matter that he had only eaten a few spoonfuls—his stomach was full of dread instead. Tyler’s slender figure, donned in that royal purple, parted the seas of grey and tan to reach Josh.

The leader’s gaze trailed Josh’s alabaster clothing, only looking up at the curly-haired man once he was pleased. He said nothing about the choker around Josh’s neck, eyes only lingering for a moment.

“It suits you, my Chosen.”

Josh couldn’t respond. He bit down so hard on his tongue that he tasted a trickle of blood, metallic and unforgettable.

“Come,” Tyler held out his hand, gesturing for Josh to follow, “walk with me.”

Leading Josh out into the sunlight, allowing him a complete look of the fields, Tyler floated across the landscape as if he was barely there. Members of the commune were already hard at work, some arms occupied with baskets of fresh salvia, while others held pitchforks. The vivid green was so bright it almost hurt to look at.

Well, sure, the commune was growing a highly illegal drug. Tyler could be charged with a Class C felony right then and there, if Josh wanted to blow his cover. Josh could put away the owner of that sickly smile immediately, and Josh would take infinite pleasure in letting him rot for as long as the justice system allowed.

Tyler kept his pace beside Josh, carefully calculating his steps so they remained in time. “What do you think, Joshua?”

“What is it?” Josh asked, playing dumb—he wanted to hear Tyler tell him

exactly

what it was, so he could take joy in knowing Tyler was just as unforgivable as Josh hoped. “I’ve never seen so much before.”

“Salvia divinorum. Diviner’s sage, some call it. It is our sacred herb.”

Gotcha. Outwardly declaring himself a felon. This guy’s insane.

Josh’s gaze wandered to the far end of the fields, to a dark smudge nestled around a small building he hadn’t been introduced to the purpose of. Craning his neck, he could now see more: the same leaves as the ones by his feet, and yet they were a disturbing shade of inky black. Mark said it wasn’t a misprint in the photographs from the file, and he wasn’t wrong.

The plants were a stark contrast to the rolling fields of green all around, blighted all over, like they’d been embalmed in a charcoal shell of their original shape. Josh had to see them close-up. He walked down the path with his focus on the diseased patch, half-minding the idea of growing distance from Tyler. If he was needed, he could be followed.

Approaching the shed, the morning sun beat down on the plants to reveal a distinct purple tinge beyond the midnight. Still dark but wine-like with glossy leaves, near-sparkling at the edges, as Josh’s steps carried him further along. Enchanting. Eyes fixed on the vivid colour, he drew closer still.

Josh was moving without thought, almost as if he was hovering an inch off the ground. Some distant part of him was terrified of what was happening to him, but the rest could only see that gorgeous, intoxicating purple. So close he could taste it, take a leaf on his tongue like it’s his Eucharist.

He wasn’t sure if he was going to pass out, or be sick right then and there on Tyler’s blessed herbs. Maybe, he would fall to his knees to pray amongst it, hoping that whatever gods were listening could stuff his body with that mulberry shade once he was dead. The leaves would grow, then, from his flesh—feeding from his blood, growing stronger, roots weaving around his throat to choke the humanity out of him. Dark violet would take up housing in his empty eye sockets, growing vibrantly out of his open mouth among rotting teeth.

Taxidermied in bliss.

The thought, though disturbing and vastly jarring, brought a strange comfort to him. Josh didn’t know which of the two emotions scared him more.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Tyler hummed, a faint smirk teasing his lips.

Josh could barely tear his eyes away from the plant. Spit pooled in his mouth, tongue dead in its cradle. He swallowed,

hard

.

What the hell was wrong with him?

A light touch grazed Josh’s jawline, his neck turning to follow its source. It freed him from his agony, holy water poured on a hellish wound. Relief flooded Josh before he could even register that Tyler’s hand was the one saving him. He wanted to blurt out a deep ‘thank you’, for saving him from that terror, but as Josh opened his eyes, all he could see was Tyler’s face and the tinges of purple on his lips.

That fucking purple. What was it doing to Josh?

As Tyler led Josh away from the intoxicating colour lining the ground, Josh had to bite his tongue to prevent gratitude from spilling out on its own accord. The thoughts within his mind had been drenched in that shade, and even as he attempted to wash it all away, the stain remained behind. Josh had to wonder if he was already under the influence of the drug—had they laced his food with it? His water?

He didn’t remember taking anything. Didn’t remember anything tasting strange, or unlike the way it normally did. Maybe that was part of it: maybe he didn’t remember

because

he was already under the salvia’s effects.

Outside of his vision, overexposed through sunlight, steps approached. A soft, practiced voice spoke with no regard to Josh.

“My Shepherd, should we be harvesting all we can today?”

Tyler ensured Josh was paying attention, leash on a dog that kept trying to escape. His hand remained at the lower part of Josh’s back, tethering his Chosen to him.

Josh studied the woman in front of him and Tyler, clad in the all-familiar muted colour palette but had gardening gloves on both hands. Her arctic eyes, piercing in colour, were a strong contender against Tyler’s own gaze. Blonde hair tied back neatly kept wisps out of her eyes in the sun.

“Oh,” she smiled, “you must be his Chosen. I’m Jenna. I look after the fields here.”

Another wave of nausea crashed over Josh’s body. “Uh, Josh is fine.” He couldn’t bear to hear that title from anyone’s mouth, let alone Tyler’s.

Jenna’s smile faltered just a little before she steadied again, hairline fracture in a harlequin mask. Never a coincidence, Tyler’s hand twitched along Josh’s spine at the same time.

“You’ll become familiar with her if you spend enough time outdoors,” Tyler said, voice taking on a grander tone. “But you won’t be burdened with this type of work.”

If Josh could have physically recoiled from Tyler’s hand, he would have. The way he was being coddled and wrapped up in gold compared to the rest of the commune, from what he had seen, was so terribly

wrong

.

Josh forced out a few words. “Uh, she asked if you—”

“Ah, yes—Jenna, I will need you and the others to pick as much as possible today. I fear the storm tomorrow will wear our precious leaves down,” Tyler interrupted, now focused on Jenna. “We don’t want that, do we?”

Jenna nodded, lowering her head slightly, almost in a bow. At the directive, she hurried away wordlessly, leaving the pair to wander the paths between the fields as they were. The power that Tyler seemed to hold over his people was immense to such a degree that he could tell them all the world was ending and they would believe him. Josh couldn’t help but fear that power.

Walking among the rows of salvia once more, Josh watched Jenna and the other members of the congregation out in the fields, baskets overflowing with fresh salvia. Over nearby one of the gardening sheds, they were washing the leaves in water before placing them on racks, ensuring the water evaporated. They worked like clockwork, every tick of the minute a well-oiled machine that responded to Tyler’s every command.

Josh’s mind returned to what Tyler had said before.

‘But you won’t be burdened with this type of work.’

What, then, did he have in store? Where was his place within the commune?

“I’ve been thinking, my Shepherd.” The title was still so unfitting of the man before Josh, an impostor at best, luring ordinary people into a life marionnetted. Still, repetition made it just a little easier to choke down his unease. “Is there any reason I don’t have a job yet?”

Tyler’s focus stayed on his plants. “You have since your arrival.”

That was news to Josh. Maybe Tyler was waiting to see if Josh would call his bluff, talk back to the great leader and risk whatever he does to dissidents. He said it so casually, like he believed it, but that was a cult leader’s whole shtick anyway.

Josh could deceive, too.

He nodded, well aware of his position at the edge of Tyler’s periphery. “Will I start working soon? I’d like to be useful to your cause.”

Tyler turned and smiled, then, with all his sharp teeth, eyes brighter than the sun beating overhead. Josh was sure he’d figured out how Little Red felt as the wolf lunged to eat her.

“You are my Chosen, Joshua. Your job is to be mine.”

Josh was sure the wolf swallowed his heart whole.

It would have been all too easy to turn to Tyler’s noxious, sacred plants and upheave his breakfast. Any punishment Tyler would want to give him for desecrating his property would pale in comparison to being so wholly

claimed

by a delusional man.

What could Tyler possibly want from him that he couldn’t get from any other devotee? His love, or some brainwashed illusion of it? His body? His life?

Josh was so sure he’d fall to his knees if he didn’t have the fencing to collapse into, no time to worry if the weathered wood could even hold his weight. Tyler’s gaze was burning hot on his side, ever a vulture circling carrion.

Even just Tyler’s staring made Josh more than uneasy. Clearly, he saw a sick purpose in Josh and wanted him to know it from the start. The bigger threat was whenever he’d decide to drag him into whatever fantasy world he’d created.

Any refusal would compromise the investigation. If Tyler ended up unhappy with Josh, casting him out of the commune, he would have to return to the precinct empty-handed and send another officer right into the lions’ den in his stead. How would Mark react to such a vile man declaring he claims him as his own?

Maybe Josh could bear it to save anyone else from having to bear such personal torment. He’d play house with a cult leader and the missing persons he’d entranced, pass along enough evidence to get Tyler shipped to a supermax prison for the rest of his life, and contact Mark for his extraction. Much easier said than done, bile still on his tongue, but he had no other options.

He choked down half a breath and straightened himself back to standing, eyes on the dirt path.

“Yes, my Shepherd.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Josh awoke the next morning to rain hammering on the roof, and thunder rumbling like a beast’s belly. The skies were a deep, angry grey, sunlight smothered by clouds. His window was slick with droplets, the landscape beyond a smeared mess of cool tones.

It was just as Tyler had said—but a storm is predictable. A storm can be explained.

So why did it feel so strange for Josh to acknowledge that the Shepherd had been right?

At breakfast, Tyler kept his distance from Josh, though every time Josh felt eyes burning into him, he was sure it was those dark eyes housed in a body clad in purple. He tried to distract himself with the hum of the dining hall, gazing around in search of faces he recognised: not just Debby and Jenna, but also for the people he was looking out for. Those who had left of their own accord and vanished into Tyler’s arms, never to emerge back into the light.

There were too many people here. So many people who had been convinced of Tyler’s delusion, so many who had lives before this place, who had all abandoned it for this. They’d been isolated from the rest of the world, cut off from the rest of humanity, put to work, and these people were

thanking

Tyler. What exactly was he offering to these people that made them drop their lives in a heartbeat to kneel to this man?

A spoonful of oatmeal—again, Josh’s breakfast, which he still wasn’t sure was absent of any salvia—rested heavy in his hand. This time, at least, Tyler had left him to eat his meal alone. Debby was still in the kitchen, and Jenna had already come and gone from breakfast. She, unlike Josh, was an early riser, which was a similar behaviour all of the field workers shared. Up early before the first light graced the salvia.

It wasn’t like Josh had a job to be at, anyway.

Tyler’s words from the day before stuck in his flesh like a bullet. His skin crawled where it had pierced through, but no decay formed from the wound. The pain was perpetual, a sting of fear unlike anything Josh had ever experienced. After all this, Josh was going to fucking retire. At 36. Whatever. He’d seen enough.

“Morning, Josh,” Debby said, sliding into the seat beside the detective. “How was your time with Tyler–uh, the Shepherd?”

Debby’s eyes narrowed at her own slip-up, almost as if she was trying to gauge Josh’s reaction. Was she testing him? Reporting back to Tyler, perhaps?

“The Shepherd told me about my job,” Josh remarked, eating another spoonful of his breakfast afterward. “I’m a little disappointed I don’t get to do more work as his Chosen.”

Referring to himself with that title made his stomach tumble, and his heart shudder. It was like walking right into the bear trap, exposing himself to the hunter waiting in the underbrush. He was doing exactly what Tyler wanted him to do: to fall for the mind games the leader had already played with him.

Debby smiled a little, an idea on her mind. “You could help me in the kitchen to fill the time, if you like. I’d hate to be sitting doing nothing all day like you.”

“You’d let me?”

“We’ll call it hanging out. I won’t tell Tyler if you don’t,” Debby chuckled, mischief sparkling in her eyes.

Josh found himself legitimately smiling, unforced. “I’d like that.”

Every little detail in the conversation, Josh was taking note of. The way Debby didn’t use Tyler’s title but instead referred to him by name—something people here didn’t tend to do—was not only unusual, but slightly unnerving. Was she testing him? Seeing if he was a skeptic, so she could report back to Tyler and have Josh removed?

Then, there was the possibility that she wasn’t going to tell Tyler at all. That she was a skeptic too, a devotee turned heretic, quietly denouncing the ways of the congregation while remaining under its wing. Josh hoped that this was the case, but how was he to know? Nothing here could be taken at face value and trusted in its entirety. Nothing was as it seemed, and even then, if you peeled back the first layer of lies, Tyler would just stitch it back up with salvia-laced thread to maintain his fantasy.

As other members milled around the dining hall, retreating to their workspaces at perfect times, Debby and Josh ate their meals in silence. Perhaps they were both weighing up the potential of the other being a nonbeliever, weighing the consequences if not. Josh took every spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth with every attempt he made to justify exposing his true intentions, even if for a fraction of a moment.

If Debby told Tyler, Josh could be cast out without a second thought—or maybe, Tyler would forgive his Chosen for his heresy without a second thought. Josh wasn’t sure which outcome scared him more.

Empty bowls were stacked and Debby motioned for Josh to follow her into the kitchen. In between meals, too early for preparation for lunch, the kitchen was almost deserted. A lone figure dressed in the familiar grey and tan was elbow-deep in a sink, piles of dishes beside them. The pair surrounded the corner of one of the long wooden tables in the centre of the kitchen, a pile of brown onions in the centre.

Under the guise of helping Debby in the kitchen, Josh picked up an onion. Papery skin flaked away as Josh picked at it, revealing the white root vegetable underneath. Debby quietly placed a knife beside Josh, trying to help him keep his cover in such a place he was not supposed to be in. He hoped that, if Tyler caught him in here, he would be able to run with the excuse that he was just trying to help.

Hopefully, Tyler would just smile at his Chosen and redirect him elsewhere without punishment.

Josh took his knife in hand and set his tableau, onion on the table before him, perpetually unchopped. It would do well enough to deceive the dishwasher, at least.

“So, Debby,” Josh started low, eyes on her very real food prep. “You like it here? It seems like a lot of work to feed so many people.”

Debby laughed, expertly dicing her onion. “It’s not so bad once you get used to it. The dinner we had the night before you arrived was stressful, though.”

“Glad I missed it, then,” Josh laughed too. Even the idea of preparing oatmeal for two hundred people made him weary, let alone a proper meal. If anything, his lack of a job would come as a blessing in disguise.

Debby turned to him with brows furrowed, searching for something unknown. “Did Tyler not tell you? It was to celebrate you.”

And just like that, the smile on his face vanished. The nausea returned in a violent wave that sent his vision spinning. A weight sat heavy in the base of his stomach. He was sure all of the colour had drained from his face, leaving his skin a sickly powdered white in the absence of his blood.

“What?”

“He knew you were coming the next day.” Debby slowed her cutting, eyelid twitching slightly.

Josh was going to be sick. “How the fuck did he know that?”

Someone doesn’t

just

predict that and get it right. People don’t do that kind of shit. Josh was convinced Tyler had been making lucky guesses all this time, but how the hell did Tyler get Josh’s arrival date right?

How would Tyler even

know him

? Josh hadn’t said a word about the commune before his arrival, hadn’t told anyone he’d be going besides his colleagues back at the precinct. The commune didn’t even have phones, he couldn’t have told Tyler he’d be coming even if he wanted to. Yet Tyler knew about him, and had the whole commune celebrate him, an entire day in advance.

“

Josh,

” Debby said, the chop of her knife snapping him back into himself.

Her voice was lower, gruff, close to a warning. Fuck, that was it, wasn’t it? He’d failed his test, Debby would report him for doubting their leader’s great gifts and Tyler would come for him with sharp salvia teeth.

It would be ironic if he’d made it all the way to the commune, selected by his superiors for his excellent composure during cases, just to end the investigation early because Tyler terrified him enough to break his cover. What had gotten into him?

She turned her gaze behind her, to the sink, and Josh was sure he’d be facing something awful. If Debby and the dishwasher both grabbed an arm, they could drag him all the way to Tyler’s quarters and leave him to whatever fate Tyler would conjure up just for him. He wouldn’t go quietly, he needed a plan.

“Why don’t you call me the name the Shepherd gave me?”

“You’re Josh,” Debby turned back around, maybe Josh had bought himself another minute. If he was lucky, she’d end up distracted entirely. Maybe she’d cry at her onions and forget Josh’s blatant insolence. “Besides,” she continued, quieter now. “I don’t even call Tyler by the name he gave himself.”

There it was.

The strike of a match, the firing of a bullet. Debby doubted Tyler, and she could tell Josh did too.

“Our Shepherd?”

Debby slid the slices of onion aside, eyes trained on Josh. “Yes—Tyler. You should know that, since he’d actually let you say it. Perks of being his Chosen.”

The fear flooded back, adrenaline tearing apart the muscles in Josh’s heart. His hand quivered, and Josh hoped Debby wouldn’t point it out as he used his other hand to obscure his terror. Compressing it down, a desperate plea for blinded eyes. Josh could only choke out a few words, almost silent, from his shuddering chest.

“What does he want from me?”

Debby stopped cutting. The absence of her slices, of the repetitive movements grounding Josh to reality, only threatened to send him reeling further. Threads of sanity unravelled into flecks of instinct, of primal fear. Her hazel eyes were dull in the dim kitchen light, but Josh could’ve sworn he could see that very same unease swimming within.

“I don’t know.”

Was that really the best she could do?

Why would Tyler go so far to tell the whole commune of his arrival without stating his purpose? From what it seemed Josh was stuck in the centre of his horrible fantasy, the same one Tyler used to keep his cultists singing his praises, yet they’d learned nothing of his role. Not even his name, just Tyler’s title for him?

“

Chosen,

” Debby hissed just as quiet, and now it was salt in the wound. Josh had half a mind to snap completely, investigation be damned. If this was a long game to break him, she’d won.

At least, until an onion was rolled in front of him right along with approaching footsteps. Right, she was with him, they just weren’t in private after all. He picked up his knife and chopped at the end, skin still on, praying the dishwasher wouldn’t look too close at his lack of culinary skills.

Debby’s expression loosened up as the third inhabitant of the kitchen wandered out into the dining hall, clean glasses in hand.

“Some people here would really kill to be in your place,” she whispered, still wary.

Josh furrowed his brows, cutting motions slowing in accordance with his confusion. “Really?”

“Have you seen the way he looks at you, Josh?”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Josh quickly discovered what the stone tower in the centre of the commune was for.

Lined up outside, waiting for the enormous hinged doors to be opened, they had been summoned for a ritual. Josh was ready to observe, to take notes, to even use this as an opportunity to finally nail down Tyler as a fraud. He’d mimic the actions of the others around him, ensuring he played into the act to keep his awareness out of sight of the all-seeing eye by the altar.

The hum in the air of hushed voices died as the doors to the communion hall opened.

Beside Josh, Debby cast him a knowing look, words unsaid through a glance. She gestured for him to follow, declaring herself the anchor for Josh’s sanity in this place. Hopefully, their combined strength would get Josh through his investigation.

Inside, the tower rose further above than it seemed on the outside. The only light pouring down upon the commune was a rose-shaped series of stained glass windows, their colours shining onto the stone flooring. Ahead, directly across from the entrance, a marble altar marked the point of the preacher. The people ahead of Josh and Debby had arranged themselves into a half-moon row, the next row rippling out in the same shape.

It was the first time Josh had seen the entire commune up close. His gaze roamed the sea of devotees as they were herded into formation, hoping to catch a glimpse of any of the missing persons he’d memorised through their reports. It was futile—he’d only recognised those he’d already met through mealtimes and his welcome tour. Slowly, without luck, he and Debby made their way towards Jenna’s blonde.

At least, until Josh caught sight of Tyler looking him directly in the eyes, beckoning him away from the swell of sandy tunics. Right to the altar.

Debby could not protect him now.

Josh’s stomach twisted violently as he broke off from the perfect lines to take careful steps towards what could very well be his end. Was this it? Was Tyler going to bleed him dry for all to see, and display his pallid body as an object of reverence? His white linens would be too quick to soak in crimson. He’d be nothing but dead grey skin and muted reds, strung up behind the altar as his own effigy.

Would the congregation celebrate just like they had before his arrival? Josh’s eyes dropped to the floor, unwilling to face anyone who may be so grateful for his upcoming fate. He was sure that if he recognised any of the audience from mealtimes or touring the grounds, he’d be torn between tossing up his breakfast and begging them on his knees to be

saved

.

The altar platform was two steps above the stone floor, two steps closer to Josh’s doom. He’d trudged along and upward until Tyler’s purple sandals appeared in his vision, bringing him to a halt before his herald.

“Stand,” Tyler commanded, and crooked two fingers to his right, where a small white cushion had been placed atop the marble.

Evidently, that cushion would be Josh’s place of rest when Tyler struck him down before the people.

Josh obeyed, not wanting to disrespect Tyler—even if he was about to die anyway. On the altar sat two items, one of which confirmed Josh’s fears: a blade. Beside it was a tiny vial, small enough to hold between two fingers. A liquid Josh couldn’t identify was held within. Perhaps, he was to be anointed with whatever it was in his final moments, a blessing to take him into the afterlife.

Within blurs of pewter and tan, small porcelain cups were being passed along the rows. Tyler moved to obscure his view, a cup in hand presented to Josh. Now, he could see what he was about to be forced to drink. It was warm, the colour of dried herbs, and Josh was sure this was the salvia grown in the fields. Tyler stepped away, placing a finger upon the rim of the cup, a wordless instruction for Josh to wait.

Tyler settled in front of the altar, standing with his palms faced towards the crowd. He raised them upwards to elbow height, and at the action, his sea of thralls responded. Josh swallowed hard as every figure before him drank their tea, movements in perfect unison as commanded by their leader. Captivated, Josh watched them all place their porcelain cups on the floor, knees bent the exact same way every time.

They were entirely under Tyler’s command, and that scared the shit out of Josh. Any leader could tell their people to enact purposeful gestures, but only a leader like Tyler could demand perfection in the most mundane of movements.

Josh could feel his left cheek burning. Tyler had craned his neck to stare, to make it known to Josh what he had to do. Lifting the cup to his lips, Josh’s nose wrinkled at the scent, the herbal taste bitter and ever so slightly repulsive. He swallowed a full mouthful, dreaded the next when there was still tea left behind, then placed the empty vessel beside his feet.

In a clean, fluid movement, Tyler took the vial in his right hand, uncorking it to take drops of the inky substance contained within on his tongue. Every action he made in that hall was practiced, mechanical, even. Josh found himself strangely mesmerised by the man’s preparations—until Tyler picked up the blade.

Oh. This is it. At least I went out with a—

Tyler dug the point of the blade into his left palm without a word. His nerves had been set alight, and yet his expression never wavered. He was carving something, a shape, a series of lines hidden from Josh where he stood. Drops of blood marred the marble below Tyler’s feet, decorating it like sparkling rubies. Josh’s breath hitched in his throat, pulse racing.

Though he couldn’t see how Tyler mutilated his skin, the strokes of the blade were disturbingly precise, motions made by deft hands. Tyler moved on to the other palm, blade now gripped in a hand oozing deep scarlet onto the handle. This was fucked. Josh needed to get out of there. He glanced up at the crowd before Tyler, their fixation on the blade reminiscent of how he had been entranced by the mulberry coloured leaves of the strange patch of salvia plants.

Had he been drugged back then? The parallels of their obsessive gaze to his own that day clouded his mind. Nothing here was ever as it seemed. Surely, an entire group of rational people would find the sight before them abhorrent, an affront to everything orderly in human existence—but these people didn’t seem rational at all. They were just as delusional as Tyler was.

His vision, mind, everything, was flooded with light. His lungs stopped intaking oxygen. Flashes of those damned leaves, the same ones he had thought he could die surrounded by, impacted Josh harder than a car would a deer in the middle of the road. He felt himself in those headlights, laid bare before wine-dark herb held in hands born from the devil.

There were flickers of something else, but god, it was as if his mind was hunting for that purple within the blurs. He was hungry for it in a way he couldn’t begin to explain, even as the fragments of his rationality tried to tear him back to reality. He needed it. It could be his blood, and keep him alive, more than anything ever would.

Distantly, as if through frosted glass, Josh could tell his body was crumbling. Mulberry flooded his view, white-hot brightness, fuelling the same craving as the fields. Unsatisfied, all-consuming behind his eyelids. When had he closed his eyes?

All at once, Josh collapsed to his knees upon the altar.

In the fallout he blinked, twice, and the purple haze vanished as quickly as it appeared. All he was left with was the sudden sight of himself doubled in two, knelt atop the cushion the Shepherd had led him to as easily as his doom. No pain, just the softness of his pillow, a small mercy in the wake of whatever he’d witnessed.

The droplets of blood on the marble were bigger, now. Light reflected from the minuscule puddles, giving them a strangely purple tinge. Squeezing his eyes shut, Josh was sure he was still hallucinating. Josh instead looked out over the commune and found a half-moon sea of kneeling people, perfectly aligned just as they’d been when Tyler commanded them to drink their tea. Had Tyler actually made them see what Josh had seen too?

Faces among the ocean were blank, slightly green in their queasiness. Their bodies reflected an air of exhaustion, mirroring the dampening wave that had also impacted Josh. Debby, among the waters, was staring at Josh from afar, a slightly horrified glimmer in her eyes.

Just as he had done before, Tyler blocked Josh’s view of the rest of the commune, standing before the kneeling detective.

Without a word, Tyler extended a hand out to him. His left palm, still bloodstained with the eye carving in the centre, and- fully healed scars, raised and off-white. What the fuck?

Now Josh could see why salvia possession was a full felony charge. He shook his head, trying to clear the hallucination, and it did nothing. All that changed in his vision was Tyler’s hand pressing closer, the lines of the eye inescapable. Vividly realistic, even the uneven texture and small keloids seemed accurate enough. Josh would have to make a note to Mark about the potency of their ritual tea.

Tyler still looked expectant above him. Maybe he’d be explaining more in the rest of the ritual. Not wanting to delay and seem too suspicious, Josh took his hand.

Against Josh’s palm, the scars of the eye remained. Months of healing from how Tyler had mutilated himself, impossible for Tyler to fake. Josh could see the speckled blood on the altar, had seen the gashes so close he could smell it, yet all he felt were completely healed wounds. Salvia’s hallucinations were visual, nothing close to watching and

feeling

a man’s body repair itself in just a few minutes.

Tyler pulled Josh all the way to his feet, and the scars were even more unavoidable. Biting back the urge to flinch, Josh kept his eyes on Tyler’s palm as he dropped his hand, tracing each of the lines looking exactly as he’d felt.

“Something wrong, my Chosen?”

Everything.

Everything was wrong. A fraud had commanded his people and wrapped Josh up in it too, an unwilling witness to a violent act. Then, somehow, that same man had healed his own wounds while all his devotees collapsed before him. Even Josh ended up falling upon the altar.

Josh needed a deep breath. He couldn’t afford to break down and risk Tyler discovering his skepticism. Not when he’d already been so afraid for his life upon reaching the altar, tenfold when he’d seen that ceremonial blade. Tyler was a dangerous man, an enigma, and Josh had to play the faithful follower until he could wrap his head around the kind of power he held.

“No, my Shepherd,” Josh murmured simply.

Tyler frowned slightly, more in an effort to study his Chosen. “Hmm… you may just need some more time to adjust to the salvia,” he spoke, calling Josh’s bluff as he waved somebody over. “Take him to the kitchen for some water, please, and then send him to my chambers.”

Debby’s face emerged from the blur behind Tyler, her devotee act masking the horror Josh had seen underneath her skin. “Yes, my Shepherd.” Obedience was not just a demand, here—it was forced.

Minutes later, the pair would find themselves stood around the very same table they’d faked cutting onions at only a day prior, Josh holding himself up by an elbow while he drank a glass of water. He kept his eyes averted from the liquid, however—his eyes swore the water was slightly tinted green like the tea he’d drank. Perhaps it was tinged with salvia, too. He had no way to know.

Debby said nothing, knowing Josh’s overstimulated state was likely just as bad as she felt. Her energy had been sapped by what she’d seen, her heart beating sluggishly in her chest. Every breath was not deep enough to pull in enough oxygen to stop her vision from blurring at each movement. They were both utterly destroyed by the ritual, both in body and soul.

Josh shuddered as he swallowed another mouthful in the hopes it would dilute the tea swimming in his stomach, potentially lowering the effects it was having on his body. Maybe it was too late, and he’d taken the brunt of the dosage. He wasn’t sure, especially with the fear that there was salvia within everything in the commune.

“He’ll be waiting for you,” Debby spoke, her voice crackling slightly. “Don’t keep him waiting too long.”

Nodding, Josh set down the glass on the table with dead eyes. His stomach still tumbled, nausea nibbling at the lining. Steps made into the sunlight, exiting the dining hall, were absent of thought as Josh approached the furthest building from the central collective. Josh desperately tried to keep his eyes away from the deep purple leaves of the strange salvia plants.

Tyler was waiting for him, just as Debby said. The front door to his quarters was ever so slightly ajar, a welcoming gesture reserved only for Josh. Every step Josh made in the small hallway felt as though he was wandering deeper into the beast’s jaw, tickling the sensitive hairs on a venus flytrap plant. He feared that any wrong move would have him swallowed whole.

The hallway opened up to a small sunroom, with floor-to-ceiling windows on the left wall. A smaller, scaled down version of the marble altar in the communion hall was at the back of the room, dappled with afternoon sunlight. Josh squinted his eyes, that poisonous colour of the strange salvia assaulting his vision: in a cloth over the altar, a soft rug at the entrance, and those terrible plants right outside the windows.

In the centre of the sunroom, Tyler sat cross-legged, expectantly waiting, on a deep purple cushion no different to the one Josh had fallen to his knees upon in the ritual.

Another cushion waited beside Tyler, and Josh already knew what he was to do. Wordlessly, he mirrored Tyler, facing him, trying to suppress the anxiety bubbling inside of him. Tyler knew of his skepticism at the altar—would he be forced to atone for it now?

Tyler’s expression gave nothing away, just studying him with the same hungry eyes he’d so often had towards Josh. He could almost swear Tyler’s focus was on his neck. Maybe he was waiting to get him alone before sinking into his throat with those purple-tinged teeth.

“Are you feeling better, my Chosen?”

There it was, that same faux-concern as the communion hall. Maybe Tyler wanted more of a hunt, coaxing Josh into confessing his sin rather than confronting him outright. Either way, Josh would still risk losing the Shepherd’s favour. Outing himself as a heretic would be a dangerous thing.

Josh forced out the only acceptable answer. “Yes, my Shepherd.”

Tyler hummed with a brief sound of approval, but his eyes were still locked on Josh’s neck. He shuffled forwards, graceful yet intimidating, reaching out. Dark brown eyes studied the pearls strung around Josh’s neck, a bead between two fingers. Josh wasn’t breathing. He wasn’t sure if he ever would be able to again. One wrong move, and maybe, that decision would be made for him.

“You deserve a far more precious adornment than mortal means,” Tyler muttered, a strange look in his eyes. Fascination, or admiration?

Finally letting go and sinking back into his place, Tyler’s gaze finally left Josh’s neck. A breath of relief entered Josh’s lungs, finally free from the oppressive weight of the man before him. His mind lingered on what Tyler had muttered, unsettled by the phrasing—Tyler seemed to be okay with Josh wearing his choker, but found it… too

human

for him?

What does Tyler think he is, if not human?

Tyler then narrowed his eyes slightly, again, studying Josh. “What did you think of what you saw?”

What did Josh think? Oh, did Tyler want the honest answer? That the ritual was just full proof to him that Tyler was not only a terrible, exploitative person but also just downright

insane

?

But Josh could see those damned scars on Tyler’s palms, healed over as if nothing had ever happened. All-seeing eyes watching him. Josh had seen blood fall, he was sure of it. His body almost seemed to tighten at the thought of that blade opening those scars back up, and that felt to him like proof that it had indeed happened. It was real, but how could he be sure? The salvia tea was still undeniably in his system.

“I… it was a lot, my Shepherd.”

“You will get used to it over time, I assure you,” Tyler said, counterfeit compassion in his words. “You may even grow to love it.”

Josh’s heart thudded in his chest. “Have you seen that, too?”

///

The window by Josh’s bed had an awful habit of beaming morning sun directly into his eyes, rousing him far before the commune’s group walk to breakfast. He’d use the time to stretch, dress in his fresh linens, and avoid his reflection in the mirror.

Today was the same, sun streaming in, Josh’s eyes squinting as he rolled over onto his pillow. Soft like– just like the purple cushions in Tyler’s sunroom, where they’d been talking. Right around midday, not– how did he end up in bed, exactly?

He was talking to Tyler, alert, very aware of just how close the leader was to his neck. He couldn’t have just passed out, right? Surely he’d remember if he had any trouble before that, but he’d asked his question and nothing. Just the morning sun nearly a full day later.

What did Tyler do to him?

Josh swore he had been mostly sober by the time he’d stepped into that sunroom. From what he’d been told, salvia’s effects only lasted an hour at most. He was as collected as he could be post-ritual, and yet here he was missing several hours of his life. Josh searched through his inner library, rifling through pages, casting aside memories of the day before in search of answers.

He found none.

Where there should have been a response to the question Josh asked Tyler, there was nothing.

///

Josh

mark

mark

i think he drugged me

Mark

Deep breaths, Josh. Tap them out on your arm if you need

Josh

tyler drugged the whole commune too. he’s unhinged

worse than we thought

Mark

For one of those rituals, right? I told you it’s not going on your record, if that’s your concern

Josh

mark

please

he did something to me

i can’t remember anything

why can’t i remember anything

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“How are you feeling this morning, Josh?”

Debby stopped eating her breakfast purely to look over Josh and his dishevelled appearance as he stumbled into the dining hall. Tinges of tiredness still ate at her expression, leftover symptoms of the ritual the day before. She’d had the evening to rest, as did the rest of the commune, but the vision yesterday had hit everyone harder than normal. It was violent, more like a forced viewing than a dreamy hallucination. She was sure it had ruined Josh, seeing how pale he was walking towards Tyler’s quarters in the late afternoon sun.

With a spoon dead in his hand, and bowl of oatmeal untouched, Josh squeezed his eyes shut briefly. “The ritual certainly did a number on me,” he responded, forcing a smile onto his lips.

“What about the meeting with Tyler?” Debby asked, swallowing a spoonful afterwards.

Josh pressed his hands together tightly underneath the table. He wanted to say it was fine—that he and Tyler had just talked, then he was sent back to his quarters without a word. Not only was he missing his time inside of the sunroom, but he was missing several

hours

of time alone with the unsettling figurehead of the commune. Josh’s stomach twisted with the idea of Tyler having free reign over him in the gaps in his memory.

Mark assured him it was okay. After numerous frantic messages from Josh, Mark had consoled him for some time until Josh had to appear for breakfast. The reassurance remained resolute in Josh’s mind, the only thing keeping him from falling apart. It was fine. Memory loss was a potential side-effect to salvia’s weaning effects. It was fine.

Pulling him out of his introspection was a soft kick from Debby underneath the table, a silent gesture of ‘say nothing’. Approaching from the other side of the room was the very man they were speaking about, purple tunic dizzying through Josh’s gaze. Normally, Tyler would be fluttering around the dining hall, speaking to members, giving them directions for their work in the day ahead. Here, he was zeroed-in on Josh and Debby, dark umber eyes marking them as his target.

Tyler made himself at home across from Josh, frowning slightly at the uneaten breakfast before him, but remained silent. He seemed expectant, as if they’d just carry on their conversation like the Shepherd himself wasn’t listening in and fully capable of reprimanding them for any missteps. At the very least, Josh could try.

“Thanks for your help yesterday,” Josh started, full focus on Debby and not the man surely staring right at him. “Wasn’t expecting the tea to upset my stomach, you really saved me there.”

“Learned a little trick from Jenna,” Debby’s focus was elsewhere, too.

Josh followed her gaze to the crowds milling about the hall, mostly field workers who’d filed in fresh from harvest, and the familiar face wandering not ten feet away. Suddenly standing from her place, Debby’s eyes lit up, arm lifted and waving in the air. Jenna, breakfast in hand, noticed immediately, and joined the group of three at the table. Her spoon rattled on the wood as she sat down, smile across her face.

Though it was barely visible, Jenna and Debby shared a brief smirk, a small joy seeing each other. They whispered between themselves, forcing Josh to face the purple-robed man before him.

Tyler’s intense gaze was blinding so early in the morning. With Josh too unsettled to eat, and Tyler without breakfast at all, there was no escape from him.

“How have you been settling, Joshua?” Tyler’s eyes were too bright, faint crow’s feet like arrows on warning signs. “I can imagine it must be hard leaving your Jim behind.”

Jim?

How the fuck did Tyler know about Jim?

Josh was one thousand percent certain he’d never risk telling such a dangerous man about his best friend, God forbid Tyler decide to use his attachments against him somehow. He hadn’t even told Debby, and he would like to believe he could trust her more than anyone else in the commune. Surely he could, after he’d shared his doubts without Tyler hunting either of them down for heresy after.

But Josh couldn’t trust the gap in his memory.

Too quickly, the jigsaw pieces fell into place. Did Tyler drug Josh to extract information he’d never consciously give away? That could be disastrous. If he’d already told Tyler about Jim, he easily could have revealed his skeptic mindset. Or his status as a detective hellbent on taking down Tyler’s operation. Or his secret phone.

That could get him killed.

Was that Tyler’s plan all along? Was he just playing with his food, batting Josh around like a mouse in front of his friends before sacrificing him with the same ritual blade that had carved his own flesh? Josh’s slaughter would serve as a lesson for the devotees: lack of faith will be your downfall.

“Joshua,” Tyler was a cat purring before opening its jaws to swallow its catch whole. “Are you feeling alright? If you need cold water, I can have that arranged.”

Cold water like he’d had yesterday, right before he’d lost a full day of consciousness to Tyler’s chambers. It was definitely drugged. He’d be a fool to accept it again and face whatever else Tyler could do to him while so unaware.

“I’m just tired, my Shepherd,” Josh mumbled. He’d throw up a half-truth and hope it wouldn’t be seen through right away. “The sun shines right through my curtains, wakes me up early.”

Tyler frowned, maybe it wasn’t as believable as Josh hoped. The pointed look he sent Jenna’s way didn’t help much to ease his nerves.

“I told you some very important things yesterday, Joshua. Do you remember?”

No. God, no. He didn’t remember a thing. What could be so important yet so easily swallowed by the void in his mind? Josh couldn’t fathom what Tyler had found so important to tell him while he was still under the salvia’s effects—and, potentially, something else as well.

Josh had to suppress the instinctual urge to confront Tyler as he sat there, breakfast still untouched. Tyler was playing with him. Tyler could tell Josh couldn’t remember a thing, and was fucking

playing

with him. In that moment, Josh deducted that he must have been drugged under Tyler’s direction, and that the memory loss was purposeful. What could be so important to tell him knowing that he wouldn’t remember?

Choking out a response, Josh maintained his composure. “Yes, my Shepherd.”

“Good,” Tyler hummed, releasing his chokehold on Josh’s psyche. “You should do well to keep remembering. As my Chosen, you have a certain role to fulfil here.”

Though the pressure from Tyler was fading, Josh felt a ghostly hand still around his neck. Turmoil twisted within him, trying desperately to understand why Tyler would have told him all these things while he was unconscious. Some kind of sick fantasy? Something worse? None of it made sense.

Josh’s eyes flicked over to Debby, desperately hoping she’d be a little more steady. Instead she looked even more horrified, lucky Tyler hadn’t noticed her expression before she managed to steel it into something closer to faux-reverence. Josh didn’t want to know what he’d do if he noticed a devotee so openly skeptical of his grand plans.

As the sun began peeking through the windows with a mid-morning warmth, the entire dining hall shifted enormously. The hum of the commune increased as they said their parting words to their friends, vanishing into hallways and out into the sun for work. Both Debby and Jenna took this as their cue to leave, too.

Before Josh could do anything, a hand had already grabbed ahold of his bowl. A brief guilt filled his expression, the oatmeal still there untouched as it was stacked underneath Jenna and Debby’s own bowls. Josh muttered a quiet thanks to Debby as she prepared to go back to work. She returned his appreciation with a knowing smile, a slight concern in her eyes—hoping that if they had the chance, Josh would open up to her about what was bothering him.

Debby waved briefly in his direction, eyes lingering on Jenna as they mouthed a goodbye. Tyler remained silent as Jenna stood from her seat, mind locked on her work for the day. She was about to start walking away when she glanced back at Josh, blue eyes studying him briefly, and tilted her head towards the door leading out towards the salvia fields.

Josh took the open chance he had to separate himself from Tyler. He didn’t do so much as offer a goodbye to the man in purple, stomach still turning from the racing thoughts in his mind. Hopefully, if he hung around Jenna for the day, he’d be able to forget about forgetting.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Doesn’t the Shepherd want you elsewhere?” Jenna asked, though a flash of guilt crossed her expression right after the words left her mouth. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to sound rude. He said you have a job?”

Josh stood awkwardly at the entrance of one of the storage sheds, watching Jenna pick up a basket. “I do, I suppose. I just get restless.”

Jenna placed the basket on the stone floor and dug through a wooden crate, the scent of turned dirt rife through the air. She retrieved a tired looking watering can from inside, and, after setting it aside, grabbed ahold of another. Closing the crate, Jenna picked up both watering cans and held one out to Josh.

“If you want, you can help me water the salvia,” Jenna smiled as Josh took the watering can. “I won’t complain about some extra help.”

Out in the sun, Josh finally understood why his and the rest of the commune’s clothing was light and airy. With sweat already beading on his neck, he followed Jenna’s precise routine for each plant: inspect the leaves, pull away any dying ones, then water it. Initially, he found himself too afraid to touch the bright green leaves, but after a row of Jenna instructing him which leaves to remove and which to leave, he was growing more confident.

There were about forty people scattered across the fields, all following the same routine. Clearly, the commune considered the cultivation of their prized herb of utmost importance. Jenna explained to him as they worked how they would water the plants first, and then later after lunch begin to collect sprigs of salvia in their baskets. Off to the side of the field, a rack was set up where the leaves would be washed and dried in the sun.

Jenna had her mechanical procedure down to the second, perfect. Her hands seemed to float through the leaves and heal the plants of their wounds, casting away anything tainting the crop. She did it with a gaze no different to that of a mother looking down at her child, wiping away tears from soft skin.

It was nice, really, to be put to work. Watching Debby cut onions while he pretended to do the same only got him so far, and just

existing

as Tyler’s obsession was sure as hell an easy job. The repetitive motions of crouching down beside each plant and rifling his hand through the leaves for any defects kept his mind occupied, and restless heart at bay.

A hand on his shoulder nearly made Josh jump, head whipping around to face its owner. It was only Jenna, looking a little worried to have startled him so badly.

“The Shepherd’s salvia grows on its own,” she said, tilting his watering can up with her free hand. “No need for us to care for it. It will be ready when the Shepherd predicts its harvest.”

When had Josh made it all the way to Tyler’s plants? Last he’d realised, he’d been working along the endless rows of salvia and far from the shed that shielded his view from Tyler’s patch of the fields. Yet he knew if he looked down now, he’d be captivated by that damned mulberry.

He shook his head, clearing the urge to look down and double-check anyway. “So it doesn’t need any water?”

“Only sun,” Jenna confirmed. “And you should step back, don’t get too close.”

Josh didn’t step back. Strangely, the warning felt hollow, an assurance not meant for him to heed. He was leashed to the plants without even looking at them, their dizzying hue infiltrating his body. Jenna stayed close, but her muscles were tight with apprehension. It was taking every fragment of her will to remain beside Josh to try and keep him away from Tyler’s salvia while keeping her eyes averse from the colour.

“The thorns are really sharp. Even through gloves you’d get pricked.”

Josh was pretty sure salvia didn’t have any thorns, but Tyler’s variety seemed to be an exception in many ways. Though, he was pretty sure he hadn’t seen any along the stems either. More fascinated than fearful of the plant after Jenna’s warning, he kneeled down beside it, watering can dead in his limp fingers.

His empty hand twitched, like each finger had a string attached to the tip. Josh reasoned that the threat of being hurt by the plants must be empty, a lie to prevent the commune from going near Tyler’s special plants. The effects it had on unenlightened eyes, however, made him question whether maybe there was some truth in the warning. Slowly, mechanically, Josh reached his open hand out towards the leaves, an automaton with the sole purpose of seizing divine herbs.

Josh squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as the purple haze descended over him, his numerous thoughts returning to the colour like a stretched rubber band. Jenna, outside of his periphery, protested as his hand closed the distance between him and the salvia. Her hands must have been grabbing at his wrist, trying to pull him away, but her touch was feathered and all he could see was the wine-dark of Tyler’s salvia.

His want to test out the warning evolved into something darker, dripping with viscous desire. He

needed

to touch it, to become as close as he could ever be to the leaves. It was no longer a curiosity, no longer skepticism—Josh had his hand reached out for no other reason other than to grip a sprig of the herb in his fist in the hopes it would tear his palms apart.

And, if it tore his skin apart, he would lovingly stuff it into his mouth to have it mutilate his insides on the way down. He’d let it open him up, expose his sinful flesh, so that somebody may free him from his terror. Tyler would crack open the ribs of his salvia-stuffed body to pull out his purple-stained heart, still beating out of his chest with arteries dripping mulberry blood, kept alive by nothing but obsession.

Josh brushed his fingertips against the leaves, silken and soft. He waited for the pain, but there was none. A sickly smile tickled at his lips, but the awareness came crashing down on him immediately after.

What the fuck was he doing?

Jenna, wincing as she reached into the brambles, grabbed ahold of Josh’s wrist. Tiny droplets of blood formed in perfect lines, following the scrape of invisible thorns across her hands. It burned, a poison coursing through her veins. The burn, she’d been told, was disgrace—it was a declaration of her mortality, and a declaration of the inhuman qualities her Shepherd seemed to have. Jenna tore Josh’s hand out of the salvia bushes.

Recoiling from the plant, tearing his eyes away from the sight, Josh stood back. He held up his hand in front of him, spreading his fingers, flipping it over. He was untouched. Tears he didn’t know he’d shed remained in silvery lines down his cheeks, which he wiped with his sleeve. Josh swallowed hard, thoughts still swimming in a lilac-tinged ocean, and turned to Jenna.

Despite Jenna’s own injuries, her ocean eyes were locked on Josh’s hand, his skin without a blemish, no blood spilling from tiny pinprick wounds. A complete deviation from the Shepherd’s teachings.

Josh was a deviation from everything she and the commune had ever known. Nobody was fed their ritual tea right from the Shepherd’s hands. Nobody sat beside the altar, the closest view to the visions of their prophet. Nobody touched the blessed salvia plants and came out unharmed. The pair shared horror in their glances, split in two by their racing thoughts but reunited by one thing: neither of them knew what this meant.

Jenna’s hand reached for Josh’s wrist again, pulling his hand up for her to inspect closely. There were no signs of thorns, not even micro-tears in the skin. Her fingers moved up towards his palm, checking for uneven texture, yet he was completely unaffected by the same thorns that left a still-burning sensation in her own hand.

“The Shepherd won’t be happy if he finds out about your heresy,” she murmured, a little less shaky than Josh’s own internal monologue. “We should never speak of this again.”

“Heresy?” Josh pulled his hand out of her grasp, frown curling at his lips.

Just one devotee labelling him as a nonbeliever could easily make its way back to Tyler, even if Jenna swore not to tell a soul. Tyler had proven time and time again he could get whatever he wanted from his followers, and Josh was sure he’d take every chance to get information on his Chosen.

“I was just curious, I’m sorry you got hurt because of me.”

“You were just curious,” Jenna repeated, and those ocean eyes froze over when they flicked up to meet Josh’s. “And I was just saving you. Right?”

Josh released an unsteady breath. “Yeah. Right. Thank you.”

At the very least, they were on the same page for now. Josh could step away to water the fields like nothing happened, wallow in his thoughts, and try not to pray too hard that the ground would swallow him up. He hoped he’d be a goner long before he could find out why he’d somehow escaped the salvia’s pain.

Tyler wasn’t lying after all, yet only Jenna faced any consequence for reaching out to the plant. Was it something to do with her faith? Perhaps, only believers would bleed as an atonement for their skepticism, and heretics would only be damned by Tyler’s own hand.

Jenna couldn’t shake her fear. Josh couldn’t help but feel unsettled by the way she looked at him as he tried desperately to return to work.

“Mortal hands can’t touch the Shepherd’s salvia unharmed. What does that make you, then?”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Josh’s hair was getting long.

The last time he’d grown out his hair was just after high school, and even then his style was crispy-straight down to his ears, nowhere close to his current waterfall of curls brushing his shoulders. It was already surprising to see his reflection back in the city, and with his new growth since arriving at the commune he was sure he’d be surprised once again.

After his strange experience with Jenna out in the salvia fields several days ago, Josh’s muscles still held a residual ache. His body wasn’t used to the same motions the others found so easy, and his right shoulder was stiff from holding the heavy watering can for a few hours. Josh chuckled a little at this, suggesting to himself that somehow, his extensive time spent at the gym back home was not enough to keep up with Jenna in the fields.

He’d slept well. After returning to his room just after dinner that night, a warm meal satiating his hunger, the thin curtains covering his window had been replaced. Now, there were thicker curtains in their place, which blocked out most of the morning sunlight he had offhandedly mentioned to Tyler at breakfast. The way things happened in the commune just with a certain look from their Shepherd was not only fascinating, but slightly terrifying.

If Tyler could make somebody change Josh’s curtains with nothing but a pointed glance, what was stopping him from saying a single word and having Josh sacrificed at the altar? His only solace was that, so far, it didn’t seem like Tyler was interested in Josh dying—yet.

Josh changed into his white linens, a clean tunic left on his bed the night before. He wasn’t exactly sure who was doing his washing, but the concept of somebody in his room without him made his skin crawl. It only took sticking a hand underneath the mattress for somebody to find the phone he’d hidden away underneath, and if anybody had found it, he’d be dead meat.

Josh turned to face the mirror across from his bed on the far wall. His bedroom mirror had been cloudy with dirt and dust, far from ideal to see anything besides vague silhouettes and blurry colours. At least until Debby lent a dishrag from the kitchen, Josh hadn’t seen his own reflection in over a week.

His own reflection was not the one staring back at him.

Lips tinged with purple. Deep umber eyes, about to swallow him whole.

Flinching, Josh turned away. With eyes squeezed shut, he tried to rationalise the face in the mirror as a hallucination. His body must still have some salvia in his system, maybe laced in his food. He couldn’t be sure he was entirely sober despite being almost a week since the ritual and his encounter with Tyler in the leader’s private quarters.

Maybe, he was just going crazy. Maybe the cult had gotten into his head, and shattered him. Years of experience as a detective didn’t matter when there was mulberry purple infiltrating every part of his body and mind. Nothing could have prepared him for whatever the hell Tyler was doing to him.

///

Josh carried his plate into the kitchen, shadowing Debby as she placed her stack of dishes beside the sink. He copied her, placing his plate upon the stack. People were already disappearing back to their work areas, lunch in their bellies, warm meals keeping them energised for the rest of the day. Josh, as per usual, couldn’t stand being left to his own devices while everybody else worked, so he hoped he’d be able to stay with Debby again.

Before he could turn around, a hand landed on Josh’s shoulder, thumb catching on the end of a curl. Josh didn’t need to turn around to know it was Tyler.

“Would you like me to cut your hair, my Chosen?”

Josh turned to face Tyler, just as Debby fled from the pair. “I… I suppose I need a haircut. But I can…” He trailed off, lost in thought and hesitation.

He wanted to say, ‘I can do it myself’. Would Tyler be furious if he refused?

Tyler raised an eyebrow at Josh’s unfinished sentence, but said not a word. Swallowing his unease, Josh conjured up the answer he knew Tyler was waiting for.

“Yes, my Shepherd. Please.”

A pleased glint filled Tyler’s eyes as the edges of his lips turned upwards to form a slight smile. Wordlessly, Tyler spun on his heel and walked out of the kitchen, robes flowing behind him instead of his usual tunic. Josh followed, knowing he was expected to, and was bathed in sunlight as he exited the dining hall.

Only as they were approaching Tyler’s building did Josh’s mind finally connect the dots: he would once again be alone with the Shepherd, right where he’d lost a full day of his memory. This time with Tyler holding a sharp object to his head from two feet away for an entire haircut. Not a recipe for disaster, not at all.

Though, oddly, Josh’s heart rate was steady even as he crossed the threshold at Tyler’s heels. None of the instinctual panic he’d been expecting at re-entering Tyler’s quarters, just eyes focused on his robes stalling before his personal altar. The white cushion from the communion hall was resting on the marble, nudged closer by Tyler’s sandal, and Josh knew what was expected of him.

Sinking to his knees was easier than collapsing had been, head bowed toward the dais. A set of barber supplies were set in a neat row beside his cushion, along with a small wash basin.

“Are you comfortable, my Chosen?” Tyler’s voice floated from above, tumbled green glass, lacking the sharp edges of his usual commanding air.

Honestly, Josh wouldn’t be lying in his response this time. As unsettled as he was about sharing his personal space with Tyler, at the very least, he was physically cared for with the cushion protecting his body from the marble he knelt upon.

“Yes, my Shepherd,” he murmured, eyes still on the wash basin.

The water was suspiciously clear, no hint of the salvia tinge that seemed to grace everything the Shepherd touched. It was almost unfamiliar to lack his signature hue. Purple still flooded Josh’s vision as Tyler crouched before him, robes pooling at his feet. The only reprieve would be to look up at Tyler’s face, and Josh wasn’t sure if he could handle that deep stare so close.

At least, until Tyler reached towards him, palms angled up to his neck. Josh’s eyes flew wide, hyper aware of the grip landing heavy on his shoulders, salvia-stained fingers reaching for—his choker?

“Be still, Joshua,” Tyler commanded.

He worked at the clasp with deft hands, dark stare trapping Josh in place. Josh didn’t risk moving an inch. Not even when Tyler’s right hand reappeared in his field of view with the pearls wrapped around it, held as if counting out a rosary.

Internally, though, Josh was laser focused on his prized possession being stolen away. Tyler had been strange about his necklace before, but he’d never asked Josh to remove it entirely. What had he said when he’d reached for it last? Something precious and mortal means.

Maybe Tyler saw it as offensive for Josh to wear something outside of the commune’s influence, beyond the delusional claim he’d staked over him. Maybe he’d been waiting all this time to make it an extra personal lesson, one that started with Josh on his knees and awaiting his penance.

The necklace was lowered and Josh’s eyes followed all the way until it was tucked somewhere beneath Tyler’s robes. Never to be seen again, whatever Tyler would choose to do with it.

Then Tyler’s hands were moving again, forward, to the clasp of his cloak. The sea of purple parted and Josh’s gaze was quick to hit the marble, watching fabric tumble to the floor in velvet waves. What could Tyler want from him that would need the sharp-eyed man without his cloak? Maybe, he was casting it aside to keep the bloodstains away when he inevitably ended Josh’s life.

“You may look at me,” Tyler said, an order barely disguised as a suggestion.

Josh looked up to be greeted by the same captivating wine hue, this time in lines and patterns adorning Tyler’s bare chest and arms. Tattoos, almost, though Josh was certain they’d been stained with salvia ink.

Had Tyler carved the designs with his blade at the altar? Same as the fast-healing eyes on his palms, etched with sickly precision, then doused in salvia to keep the colour? Or were they just tattoos after all? Josh hoped he wouldn’t have to learn the answer before the end of his investigation. Bearing witness to one mutilation was enough.

Tearing his gaze away, Josh found himself roaming Tyler’s torso instead. Honestly, Josh couldn’t say he had any expectations for what Tyler could look like beneath his cultist garb, but he was almost pleasantly surprised at his toned physique. Almost.

Objectively, Tyler might have been something close to handsome, but just as objectively he was a cult leader too. And a felon on multiple charges, if Josh’s investigation went well.

Josh was pulled out of his thoughts by velvet falling over his shoulders, draped across his front to cover him. Tyler’s cloak, his signature purple shade, that same hue that intoxicated whoever looked upon it, was obscuring Josh’s entire upper body. Feeling the weight of its caress, Josh kept his focus upon Tyler’s hands moving to lift the pair of scissors beside him—shiny, new, perfect.

Behind the metal, Tyler’s lip caught between his teeth. Josh couldn’t help his shiver at that.

“Be still, my Chosen,” Tyler warned again, low with the lack of distance between them. Josh wouldn’t risk moving again between his tone and the coupled blades held in steady hands.

The first cut left a dark curl tumbling to the cloak below, velvet serving as a salon cape. Distantly, Josh wondered why Tyler would offer up his own ceremonial robe for the task rather than a less important drape of fabric. Why would a so-called “god” grant a mere devotee use of his garments?

Josh’s focus was quickly consumed by the snip-snipping of Tyler’s scissors all around his head, forming his image into what the Shepherd desired of him. It was startling at first with Tyler so close, his stare burning into Josh even as he avoided eye contact. Josh was sure if he looked up he’d be greeted by hungry eyes and a purple-rimmed maw.

Though, after a few minutes, the repetition of Tyler’s movements began to lull Josh into a calmer state. His eyes traced over the designs on Tyler’s chest, over and over, in time with the careful cuts.

Tyler’s hand on Josh’s jaw broke through the haze, warm, thumb and forefinger urging his chin up. Josh went easier than he should’ve, gaze trailing up as well, finding the very edge of Tyler’s face. The corner of his lip was quirked, was he smirking? Josh couldn’t care much as the rhythm of the scissors resumed, foggy-edged focus back to the salvia patterns.

///

Working slowly, every movement precise, Tyler shaped Josh’s curls to fall softly around his ears. Every fallen curl brought him just a bit closer to seeing the exact same boy he’d learned would be tethered to him for eternity—his second half, one to complete him.

Long before Tyler learned his Chosen’s name, he’d known a lifetime of visions.

At first, Tyler was convinced he was daydreaming, having fallen to the grass during Little League practise. The stranger’s back was turned in his mind’s eye, a young boy called for by his mother.

‘Son,’

Josh was, skipping away from Tyler on a field of his own.

When the same boy returned to Tyler’s mind with six months’ growth to his curls and a chipped front tooth, kicking his feet in an oddly familiar church pew, daydreaming didn’t seem so right. In vignettes he watched the boy grow older with him, binary stars in parallel orbits.

Even when Tyler started having visions of greater things, of world-shaking tragedies, none captivated him the same way as the boy he’d been chasing across Columbus shadows. Then, unfamiliar ground emerged as their roads diverged, Tyler searching desperately for another chance to entangle their golden threads.

Until he found Townsend through a vision of this same boy, now a man, driving past the town’s corner store. The commune began as two, Tyler and his very first devotee, growing through the years as Tyler awaited the prophecy that would bring his Chosen to him.

All of this was for him.

On the eve of the solstice, after a hundred visions and thirty years of waiting, the man had finally spoken Tyler’s name.

‘The Shepherd?’

Tyler was, slipping as casually from the not-stranger’s lips as the swivel of his desk chair.

Standing at his altar, empty cushion at his feet, Tyler was sure he’d been following the right path.

Crouching before the same marble, his Chosen knelt upon the dais, Tyler knew it was all worth the wait.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Josh didn’t need to be told where to stand, this time. He knew where he belonged.

This ritual was different to the one he’d witnessed days prior. There was no blade upon the altar, and no tea to pass across the half-moon rows. Strangely, Tyler was absent from the hall, but despite his lack of direction, the commune responded accordingly. The hive mind took their places, as they always did, standing in their perfect rows and waiting patiently.

The white cushion at Josh’s feet was ready for his knees to sink into it. Josh could’ve sworn there were still imprints left behind from the force he fell upon it last time, the fabric holding the memory. He could remember, still, those flashes of purple surely fuelled by a drug-induced hallucination—and yet Josh found himself wishing he could remember more.

From the ocean of faces, Debby and Jenna both had their eyes fixed upon each other. They found solace in the waves, separated by their half-moon rows, keeping each other afloat. Both women clutched to a rotting piece of wood floating among the seafoam.

Underneath the stained glass windows, sun constructing blurred swathes of colour dappled across the marble, the commune waited patiently. Across the altar were a scatter of materials—empty glass vials, a larger bottle of a clear liquid, and a small polished wooden tool. Everything was set out perfectly, each vial spaced out from the other in exact measurements, the larger bottle centred in the middle of the altar.

Nobody turned as footsteps from outside the hall approached. The crunching of the gravel and the wisps of grass whistling all foretold the commune of their leader’s arrival, silhouette tinged with his distinct mulberry shade. In his arms, as he stepped into the dappled light of the hall, were cuttings of the deathly salvia cultivated for him—the very same that Jenna was hurt by, the very same that Josh was untouched by.

Josh watched Tyler come closer, cradling the salvia in his arms like a child, sharp eyes locked upon the altar. Though, as Tyler placed down the herb upon the altar, his intense gaze turned to Josh, the slightest hint of something barely recognisable in his irises. In the sight of his Shepherd, Josh lowered himself to his knees, decoding the emotion Tyler was conveying as disapproval. It stung, as though the invisible thorns of the salvia plants were digging into his throat.

Or perhaps, the pearls around his neck had been clasped too tight. Tyler had given his choker back right after his haircut, distaste clear in his half-scowl even as he’d refastened it to sit exactly how Josh liked. It was a strange kindness, or the closest impersonation of it Tyler would be able to manage, but Josh didn’t dwell much on what that could mean. Especially not with Tyler’s herb overtaking his thoughts once again.

This close, the wine-dark haze beckoned Josh. It taunted him from no more than a metre away, vines grabbing ahold of his ankles to drag him under. Desperately, Josh averted his eyes, trying to keep his focus upon the half-moon rows before him, of the congregation silently watching in fascination. They were already gone, eyes fixated on the inky darkness of Tyler’s salvia. If their mouths were open, they would be drooling, minds calling them to grab handfuls and swallow with reverence.

In silence, not a word escaping from any of the hundreds of mouths underneath the stained glass, Tyler deftly handled the herb, small handfuls picked from the bunch to be wrung out between the raised scars on his palms. A distinct herbal smell leaked from the microscopic tears in the leaves as they were twisted carefully. Every motion was calculated, perfect. Tyler had done this thousands of times. His tincture was an amplifier to his visions, a match thrown into a room full of natural gas.

With the thin pointed tool in his hand—carved by his first devotee—Tyler forced mulberry leaves through the openings in each vial. Josh watched out of the corner of his eye, wrenching his wandering gaze as he was repeatedly drawn towards the distinct colour in the vials. They called to him. They beckoned him closer, whispering sweet nothings about the possibility of being saved. The voices were a terrible chorus of recognition and unfamiliarity, and somewhere within the hum, Tyler whispered along with them.

Preparing the vials, Tyler reached for the larger bottle, brown glass with clear liquid inside. Upon uncorking it, Josh felt the distinct burn of ethanol in his nose, fiery and unruly. The air seemed to become heavier as he attempted to breathe fresher air in, bringing in more and more of the searing sensation. Tyler seemed unaffected, pouring the alcohol over the leaves in each vial until they were submerged.

Josh expected the ritual to be over, for the vials to be whisked away to develop their strength in darkness, but Tyler simply moved behind the altar and watched them with eagle eyes, observant. The clear liquid began to darken right before the congregation, shade deepening impossibly fast. Soon, even through the glass, the purple haze intensified.

Josh couldn’t resist. He needed to look. He needed to.

He let his sight wander to where it belonged—fixated upon the beauty upon the marble altar.

Josh was so possessed by that swirling purple, darkening right before his eyes, that he barely noticed his mouth watering. Ravenous hunger captured his mind. Agony burned in his stomach as he fought against a deep-seated instinct to crawl on his hands and knees and drown himself in every vial upon the altar. The pain was unbearable. Either it was going to kill him, or Josh was going to have to kill himself to free his mind from the desperation. His vision blurred. This was hell. It was hell. He needed to get out of there. He needed that poison inside of him before he collapsed in on himself.

A sea of that marvelous hue flooded Josh’s vision, lava-hot tidal wave cresting over every other sensation in noxious ecstasy. This was everything he thought he wanted, and yet, he still wasn’t close enough. He needed to drown in it, feel salvia overtake his every breath, flow through his lungs and veins to fill him up completely until his insides were molten and mulberry. Desperately, with outstretched palms to greet the flames, he pitched forward and awaited his salvation by consumption.

A strong force gripped Josh’s jaw, holding him in place just shy of the bliss he’d been craving. He might’ve cried out to the shoreline, miles away from his ears already stuffed with salvia leaves. What God would be so cruel to deny him searing-sweet release when he’d been so close?

That divine hand tilted his head up, up, above the purple tide until he was ripped away from the cresting waves completely. The horizon was blurry and pinkish, edges still tinged with that same hue, moving in slow-motion as Josh blinked his way back into high definition.

As Josh’s lungs refilled with oxygen, agony slipped away like sand through an hourglass, boiling heat mellowing out to just two campfire-toasted spots on Josh’s jaw. His saviour, it seemed, thumb and forefinger his lifeboat from the siren song that endlessly sought to drag him under. Or towing him along, still so far away through the salvia fog, every second freeing him from more and more of his suffering.

“Thank you,” fell from Josh’s mouth before he could think much of it, half-melted with the residual heat. Liquid smooth, drops from wine-stained vials or blood from a kicked-in tooth.

If he didn’t spit it out, he might’ve choked on his words and ended up right back under the salvia sea. He wasn’t sure if his cry made it to his saviour, but he found he couldn’t mind very much when a second reverent hum slipped out alongside it.

Desperation breaching the fog again, Josh leaned into the hand keeping him afloat, praying he’d be kept free of the poison’s hold long enough to clear his mind. Maybe he’d spoken that, too, still dripping blood from spit-slicked lips.

In the distance, Josh could almost hear a reply. His saviour granted his wish, tightening his hold to keep Josh’s focus on the hazy silhouette before him, pinky brushing his choker.

“Thank you,” Josh mumbled again, just a little closer to shore. Purple anchored his focus, though with a clearer mind he merely saw the salvia-tinted edges of moving lips. Soothing, almost safe compared to the pain of a full glimpse.

Those lips formed words just out of Josh’s reach, buzzing like radio static. Josh tried to force fresh air into his lungs to flood out the lingering haze, though the salvia’s pull was persistent.

“Deep breaths,” his saviour urged finally, parting the fog in two.

There was the catalyst for Josh to kickstart his lungs into action, stumbling into a rhythm, tapping out eight counts on his thigh. His saviour tapped along, too, thumb on his cheek further steadying him.

Still, the intoxication was a powerful force. Even with the aid of his saviour, the last recesses of Josh’s mind were salvia-stained, seeking a fresh fix to drag him back under.

“Please,” Josh heard himself whisper above the white noise, slipping out with the receding tide.

If he were any hazier-headed, he might not have known he was begging, let alone what for. From above, Josh heard the ghost of laughter, pattering down like rain through the ever-present clouds. It would be melodic if he weren’t so sure his God was mocking him.

“You aren’t ready for it yet, my Chosen.”

My Chosen?

All at once the clarity was so bright it stung, ultra-sharp focus on a familiar smirk. Josh screwed his eyes shut, unable to face one more second of the man in front of him. How could he be so reckless to let the salvia’s influence overtake him enough to revere a fraud?

The grip on Josh’s jaw tightened, blunt nails digging into his cheeks. It was a warning, Josh knew his insolence would never go unpunished, but he stubbornly kept his eyes closed until the pressure was just shy of painful. With a lump in his throat, he looked up, and there was Tyler.

No God, no saviour at all.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Stained glass parted to reveal the universe cracked open, the end of the world nearing.

Josh wasn’t breathing. He didn’t need to, his life held in suspended animation in salvia stained hands as a vision impaled his mind. Neurons fired in rapid succession, confused, disorderly. Images flashing before him were as bright as the sun, and Josh could’ve sworn he was catching repeated glimpses of heaven between the sights.

Murmurs of voices joined the screeching chorus, news readers speaking their scripts. A number kept appearing within the blurs. Cars piled up in streets, bridges collapsed into fragments of concrete and twisted metal beams. Magnitude. A dam wall cracked, buildings half-crumbled. 7.2. People screaming, mass destruction. 7.2.

Josh barely felt himself slip forwards, body swaying. Bile rose in his throat, caustic, burning its way back down into his stomach. Whether his eyes were shut or wide open, he couldn’t tell. Reality bled silver and purple on the marble below. His only saving grace here was that the mulberry haze was light, parting to let him through. It recognised him, in a strangely sentient way. It knew he had fought before.

By the time Josh could feel his heart pumping once again, an enormous pressure was pressing in across the side of his head. Cold on his cheek, an icy embrace, his eyes fluttered open to see himself crumpled on the marble like a discarded marionette. His strings were slack, puppeteer abandoning him. When had he fallen?

Outside of his peripheral vision, a pair of purple sandals approached. Josh groaned weakly as Tyler’s blurred face emerged, showing his usual faux-concern. Surely, he was enjoying seeing Josh suffer like this—watching from above like some sick god playing with its domain like a set of toys. Wine-tinged fingertips caressed the other side of Josh’s head, a touch Josh found overwhelmingly hard to resist leaning in to.

The repeated whiplash of being torn apart by Tyler only to be stitched back together meticulously by the same hands was eating away at Josh’s remaining defences. He would never admit it in the moment, but part of him

craved

the process of healing by Tyler’s hand, sewing his flesh back together with salvia-stained thread to make him whole.

So, when Tyler’s hands lifted him to his feet, Josh welcomed it.

A thumb brushed Josh’s cheek, both raised scars on Tyler’s palms burning themselves into Josh’s jawline. Tyler held him carefully, now, with eyes that gazed upon his Chosen like a porcelain doll.

“It will get easier over time, my Chosen,” Tyler hummed, and it was a

promise

.

///

Cracking his window open slightly, the morning air flooding in, Josh grasped an icy shape sat just out of view on the windowsill. As he slipped it through the gap between the frame and the glass, he plugged in the weighty power bank into his phone to charge it.

Mark had set up a mole—somebody else like him, but buried in the shadows—to exchange power banks once a week so that Josh’s communication outlet would remain open. Josh had been instructed not to search for this person, lest he accidentally expose them to the rest of the commune. He momentarily wondered if the mole was Debby, but her brazen disregard for the Shepherd’s rules seemed to be almost asking for trouble.

The screen lit up as the phone turned on, lockscreen a default artwork. A few notifications flooded in, including one from the news app. He clicked it, more out of curiosity than anything else, but was greeted with terror.

Magnitude 7.2 earthquake strikes southern California

7.2.

What?

Josh scanned the headline again. He reread the subtitle, searched through sensationalism for details. So much destruction. An ungodly amount of damage. It was exactly as he’d seen in the vision: cracked concrete, rubble covering the shells of cars, people displaced as their homes crumbled. Distantly, his heart stung, but that was rapidly overcome by an unbridled rage.

That motherfucker.

Tyler was right. It had happened just as he’d predicted, a magnitude of 7.2. Josh shook his head, lip curling in disgust. He tried to chalk it up to a lucky guess, one of thousands Tyler had probably made over the years—but the statistics were against him. The math lined up wrong. There was no way Tyler could have guessed that so perfectly, down to the decimal.

And that scared the shit out of Josh.

Like many of those who go into law enforcement, Josh liked things to be reasonable and orderly. Truth was always infallible, grounded in reality. Things were black and white in the same way things were either legal or illegal. Reality had rules, and humanity followed them to a tee. It was impossible to break those rules, governed by science and rational thought.

Yet here Tyler was, with his impossible prediction perfectly spotless and his impossible scars healing over in seconds, shattering all that kept the world in order.

///

Josh

he was right

7.2

Mark

Right about what?

Was it another ritual?

Josh

check the news

earthquake

Mark

You think he predicted it?

Josh

i saw it. he’s not lying

7.2

i swear to god mark

he might actually be predicting the future

Mark

Didn’t he drug you last time? Hallucinations are a side effect. You can’t trust what you see

You said it was impossible for him to be right, Josh. What changed?

///

A sharp knock jolted Josh out of his reply. He stuffed his phone back under the mattress before whipping around to face the doorway, thankfully just ajar like he’d left it.

“Come in!” Josh called, hoping he didn’t sound like his heart was running at a marathon pace.

The purple robes were less of a surprise than they should’ve been. Tyler had never sought Josh out in his room, but he’d followed him all around the rest of the commune. It was inevitable he’d end up trying to drag Josh out of bed.

Even as Josh was torn between throttling Tyler and bolting through the open door behind him.

“Joshua,” Tyler started, that faux-concern back and brighter than ever. “Are you feeling better today? I can imagine you needed your rest.”

Josh was a mouse batted between sharp claws again, Tyler’s stare burning into him. Maybe Tyler caught on to his heresy somehow, was benevolent enough to grant him a saccharine smile before slaughtering him. Before Josh could parrot his usual ‘

Yes, my Shepherd’

, however, Tyler let a smug smile twist at the edge of his lips, sickly sweet.

“I expect you have some questions about what you saw.”

That was an understatement. Josh wanted to interrogate Tyler back at the precinct, cuffed to the metal table, where his trickery could be peeled away from his bones like skin. In that clinical environment, the rules of reality laid bare, he wouldn’t be able to weasel out of the truth. If he was the man he said he was—which was no man at all—it would emerge out of him as a violent parasite, writhing on the linoleum.

Josh swallowed hard. “How did you know? Does the salvia show you things?”

“The salvia helps me, Joshua. It is an amplifier for what I see. The tea the congregation consumes at rituals allows me to share my gift,” Tyler explained softly, as if telling a small child about death. “I have been touched by the divine, my Chosen.”

A part of Josh believed him. Whatever Tyler was doing to predict this all correctly had to have been sourced from somewhere within the stars—how else would he have this power he claimed, perhaps even rightfully so, to have?

“I have always had my visions. Always known things before anybody else,” Tyler continued, running a salvia-stained fingertip across the edge of Josh’s mirror. “But you—I have been seeing

you

my entire life, Joshua.”

Tyler was staring right at Josh, hungry eyes demanding to devour. The deep umber in his irises seemed to swirl with a darker purple, about to lash out and inject its venom into Josh’s veins.

“I watched you grow up. Your whole life was laid bare in front of me.”

The detective’s composure was beginning to crack under Tyler’s pressure. Josh had to hold himself back from swinging a fist, furious, the obvious taunting a thrill for Tyler. He clearly loved the game of chasing his prey like this, but was it all just a ploy to have Josh shatter? Josh’s average life surely hadn’t been the fascination of a half-god-half-devil in the Appalachian mountains. It didn’t make sense.

“I remember when you chipped your tooth. Your doctor fixed it perfectly.”

Josh chipped his front tooth at seven. Three decades before setting foot anywhere near Tyler, quickly bonded over to disguise his accident completely. Even his own dad had long since forgotten about the week where his eldest boy had half a tooth.

Yet, Tyler remembered.

“My tooth?” Josh could only keep his voice steady enough for two words.

Maybe he misunderstood somehow, maybe the bond got discoloured from the salvia and Tyler was turning an observation into smoke-and-mirrors deception to further get under Josh’s skin. Tyler wasn’t actually using divine powers to know Josh out of everyone in the world. Right?

“Always clumsy around tree roots, weren’t you?”

Tyler couldn’t possibly have guessed that part.

Fuck.

Tyler was—fixed on him with an easy smile, like he’d just told Josh the Reds beat the Pirates again, not that he’d been stalking him for his whole life with the aid of the stars above.

“That fall looked pretty bad, with the dirt and your split lip.”

Josh had to bite his lip to avoid saying something Tyler would condemn him for. The same spot Tyler had watched him split from God knows where, God knows how. Tyler was right, it was an awful collision between Josh’s face and an exposed root. He’d collapsed to the dirt, scraped hands hugging his knees, and cried for his mother. Tyler saw him cry.

“Couldn’t find the chip in all those leaves. A shame, Joshua, you tried so hard.”

He

had

tried so hard. His nails were soon lined with dirt as he dug through the ground beneath him where he’d fallen, a mess of rotting leaves and worms weaving through the earth. In hysterics, Josh searched until sunset, blood pouring down his lip, pain throbbing through his skull. Somehow, Tyler had seen it all. He was retelling it all as if he was there, watching through young Josh’s tear-blurred eyes.

“I wonder what your parents said about you running home with grass in your hair and a bloody tooth. Poor thing.”

Josh was carrion, halfway to a heap on the floor, salvia-rimmed maw above him awaiting its meal. Tyler knew his entire life, and sought him out just to

claim

him. Every word from Tyler’s mouth was another rib snapped away to be one of his new playthings. Josh was convinced Tyler was about to stick his hand into an opening in his abdomen to pull out his gorgeous, slick intestines to look at with a sweet, loving gaze—and then stuff them back inside, hands glossy with blood, sewing Josh back up with purple thread.

Unable to stutter out anything else, Josh’s voice crackled with desperation. “How…?”

Those salvia-stained lips did nothing but smile. Teeth flashed in a show of thrill, the electrifying excitement of the game Tyler was playing with Josh.

“I have known you for a lifetime, Joshua. Your fate is to be mine.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

ACT II: CHOSEN
Josh welcomed the bite of marble on his knees, cushion cast aside by his own request.A hand on his jaw kept his focus straight ahead, half-lidded eyes fixed on the curtain of velvet stood before him. He was patient, sitting pretty to await direction from above. If he could be good enough, he could get a greater reward.Already, he had been blessed by a hand combing through his hair, spinning stray curls into liquid gold that flowed right through him. Nearly ichor, though full divinity was reserved for the man above him. When blunt nails scratched at his scalp, he’d been reduced to a shiver before snapping back into his posture, repentance thick as molasses weighing down his tongue.“Be still,” came Josh’s only direction, a fresh tether to his place knelt upon the dais. He was grateful to receive mercy, eager to show his appreciation for such a gift. After that, Josh was perfect, didn’t move an inch even as his hair was tugged just enough to test him without really stinging. He was far too close to his promised bliss to consider breaking a divine order, no matter the cost.Finally, the hand on Josh’s jaw tilted his head skyward, up towards the angel haloed by the soft light of the moon. Josh couldn’t help but smile as he gazed upon him, reverence on the tip of his tongue.“My Chosen,” Tyler was smiling too, salvia tinge ever-present on his lips. Josh had wondered how it would taste, and he was so achingly close to finding out.“My Shepherd,” Josh responded, hyper aware of Tyler’s hungry stare sizing him up. For the first time he understood what it really meant.Tyler’s hand brought Josh closer to being consumed by that purple maw, just like he’d promised, and Josh went with pride. He tipped forward of his own accord, overeager, and bridged the brief divide between himself and his saviour.The salvia was bitter, though Josh couldn’t bring himself to wrinkle his nose when it reminded him so much of Tyler. Tyler, whose lips were soft and steady, beard stubble just a little scratchy against his jaw. Josh wouldn’t mind if it tore him apart.Josh was drawn further into Tyler’s orbit by heavy gravity and a heavy palm cradling his head, thumb rubbing little circles on his crown half as fast as Josh’s rabbit kicking heartbeat. He had half a mind to open his eyes just to see the smug look he knew Tyler was wearing, satisfied by his conquest.Every thought dissolved when deft fingers tugged at the top button of his sheriff’s uniform shirt, working it undone with ease. Whatever surprise he had was swallowed up by Tyler’s mouth, fingers still working away at his buttons one by one to reveal his undershirt.Like a man possessed, Josh knew exactly when to tilt his head back in anticipation of Tyler’s lips trailing down towards his jaw. The path left behind the faintest trace of wine-dark smears, almost crystalline in their shimmer. He rolled his shoulders back as his uniform shirt gave way, stiff tan fabric consumed by a sea of velvety purple.Every brush of Tyler’s lips left behind a burning sensation, and Josh was sure there were holes in his skin where his collarbone could be seen in the moonlight. Ghosts of Tyler were left behind in prints of mulberry, salvia stain transferring from godlike lips to mortal skin. Every kiss was another blessing, another assurance to Josh that he was just as divine as the deity who held him on his knees.A shudder rippled through Josh’s body as Tyler’s canines, fang-sharp and shiny in the low light, grazed the point where his jugular vein met the dip in his collarbone. Josh wanted nothing more than to bleed out on the marble in service of Tyler, allowing his life force to be consumed for the sake of ascension. He’d let Tyler thrust the ritual blade into his chest and watch as his own heart gave out.Those blunt nails ghosted his cheek as Tyler pulled away, remaining only a few inches away from Josh, staring deep into his eyes. Josh leaned into the touch, eyes half-shut in a blissful state, and smiled.“Your fate is to be mine,” Tyler whispered, almost inaudibly, gazing over the constellation of purple stains he’d left behind on his prize.///Josh awakened from the dream with a hand at his throat, the other shakily holding himself up on the mattress. His thoughts were molten lava, searing and incomprehensible in their flowing form, burning his hands if he tried to hold one still. With a pounding heart, sweat trickling down his back, Josh tried to escape the covers on his bed, tangled in the fabric.Among the whiplash, terror emerged.He had been dreaming of kissing Tyler. Knelt on the marble, enduring pain for him. Josh wanted to crawl out of his skin, leaving a shell behind that he’d never return to. Even better, he could open up his skull to grab his brain, fingers clutched into grey matter, and tear out whichever segment had constructed such a dream—though not due to the aversion he had to Tyler. He hated the dream because he liked it.Josh lifted his defeated gaze to the lower edge of the mirror, keeping most of it out of sight. If he saw those hungry eyes looking back at him, he’d run far away to never return. He kept his neck down, sight locked on his collarbone—his collarbone, with his choker right above—and searched for remnants of Tyler he was sure would be left behind.But there was nothing. No smudges of mulberry, no reminders of his disturbing surrender.Josh swallowed his apprehension and dressed for the day, averting his eyes from the mirror. He didn’t want to admit that he thirsted for those salvia-infused lip prints to be real upon his collarbone.///Shadowing Jenna like he had in days prior, Josh kept himself busy. He desperately sought out a distraction from the burning sensation dotted across his collarbone, remnants of his dream. With a basket in hand, he clasped bunches of herb, green leaves and their juicy stems piled into the woven bed. His mind kept returning to the dream, over and over, no matter how hard Josh tried to focus on the harvest.The sky above was clouded, a leftover ghost of spring as the seasons began to turn. Sweet air became brighter, imbued with the flowering life of renewal. A fresh breeze tumbled over the fields, keeping the sweat on Josh’s neck to no more than a shimmer. Josh relished in the diversion Jenna had allowed him to participate in, despite how hesitant she seemed to let him help.He’d been standing in the doorway of the shed, no different to the day he touched Tyler’s salvia plants, hoping Jenna would permit him to work the fields with her. Her face had shown a flicker of concern for the desperation Josh seemed to be unsuccessfully trying to obscure, but nonetheless she smiled and handed him a basket. “Does the Shepherd know you’re doing this?” She had asked, reminding Josh immediately of her unwavering belief in Tyler. “You’re his Chosen—you already have something to keep you busy.”Jenna was already guilty of distracting the Shepherd’s Chosen once before, and each time after was staining her conscience. Though, she couldn’t help but wonder what exactly Josh was meant to be doing. Was his job nothing more than to sit pretty and collapse on demand during rituals?Something was bothering Josh that day, though. Jenna could tell, through the way his eyes kept unfocusing, basket slack in his right hand. Light touches were made as he absently brushed his collarbone with calloused fingertips, almost as if searching for something invisible. She left him be, knowing that if she asked anything she would be met with nothing but a strained ‘I’m alright’ from a man who had been wholly claimed by a god.Josh wanted to assure himself the dream meant nothing. That dreams are just that—dreams—and no reflection of his inner landscape, no insight into his subconscious. He knew, though, that it was futile. Maybe he was still under the influence of the salvia. His mind must have still been warped by the soft embrace of the hallucinogen for a dream like that to emerge.As much as he threw himself into denial, at the spiked core of his spiral was the disturbing truth: somewhere, deep down, he wished the dream was true.///The full moon was high above the stars, bright enough to filter through the curtains, and still Josh couldn’t sleep.All day he’d been haunted by visions of his dream, chasing him even to the shadows behind his eyelids. Tyler standing at the altar, smiling down at him, taking him apart with salvia lips and hands. Possessive, Josh still swore he could feel the imprints Tyler’s lips left all over him, a wine-stain collar binding him to his Shepherd.Josh didn’t know what was crueler: that he’d been so sick to imagine his own fate as a deity’s pretty pet, nothing more, or that the urge to seek out Tyler and act on his subconscious desire was nearly consuming him.He didn’t want to sink completely into that salvia haze, that much was crystal clear. But, honestly, he was still curious. Dream-Tyler had been soft with him even as he’d marked him with his signature shade, closer to reverence than merely claiming him. Would his Tyler be so gentle? Would he treat his Chosen to kind hands and whispered praise from wine-rimmed lips?Would Tyler welcome him tonight?The idea played on loop between flashes of midnight at the altar. It was an awful thought, giving himself so freely to a man with immense amounts of power, but Josh couldn’t help himself. The curiosity bled from his sleeping mind to his rational thoughts, leaving salvia stains in its wake.More importantly than his own jumbled feelings, there was a real benefit of close proximity to the Shepherd: information. Gaining Tyler’s trust could aid the investigation, get Josh that much closer to going home and seeing Jim and Mark and his parents. Even if it came at the cost of feeding into Tyler’s delusions about what Josh is to him.Tyler’s delusions. Never his own.Still, Josh was scared. Walking into the lion’s den knowing Tyler could pounce right on him, rip out his throat with his canines, was a task for a braver night. Even as his subconscious kept urging him out of bed, chasing whatever Tyler wanted to do with him.The longer Josh spent at war with his own mind, the more his legs twitched as if they were spring-loaded, ready to propel him all the way to Tyler’s quarters. Would Tyler be sitting up somehow, divine blessing telling him of Josh’s arrival, or would Josh have to enter his bedroom and wake him? Would Tyler want him on his knees just like he’d dreamed of?Josh was wobbling along a tightrope, unsteady even unmoving, certain thoughts threatening to push him off.Some time around midnight, the tightrope snapped.Falling through mid-air, limbs slack as he searched for a foothold to grab ahold of, Josh was helpless. He barely faltered as his hand closed around the handle to his room, discovering it hadn’t been locked like previous nights. If his eyes were open, he couldn’t see a thing—a mosaic of cold moonlight and grey shadows across his vision.Josh was being pulled along, salvia-thorn collar tugging at his neck, leash held in a vice grip. He was being summoned to wherever his master demanded, tripping over floorboards as he practically fell through the doors leading out into the night. The salvia fields, leaves deep teal and moonshiny, taunted him as he stumbled across a silhouetted landscape to a lone building.With arms reaching out for stability, Josh crossed the threshold into Tyler’s quarters, not taking note of how the door was already open. His head pounded, pain throbbing in his ears from the pure desperation to be freed from his ache. As Josh stepped into the sunroom, dappled in silver, his soul shattered into billions of glass shards, Tyler was there waiting for him.Stood before the altar in his deep purple robes of velvet, hungry eyes fixed on his Chosen.“My Shepherd,” Josh choked out, still strained from the force that had overtaken him, end of his leash now laying slack at Tyler’s feet.It was Josh’s choice to flee or face annihilation by stellar hands, reduced to mulberry haze and a molten core. All Josh could dare to think of was Tyler, pitching towards the altar with palms to the sky, pleading to be saved from his delirium.Tyler’s eyes were shiny in the moonlight as Josh nearly tripped up the marble steps to reach him. Bright as lighthouse beacons to guide Josh in his frenzied quest to push forward until he crashed straight into salvia.All at once, Josh was a shooting star surrounded by wine-stained aurora borealis.Meteors fell all around him, sound of their trails just a little like Tyler’s name, matching the rhythm of the kiss. Josh’s gravity was Tyler’s lips on his, pulling his body back to the altar, mind still seeking the most distant ethers.The ever-present salvia tinge was bitter, just like Josh imagined, heady hops further fogging up Josh’s thoughts with every passing second. It was intoxicating, weighing down his mind like sugar cubes in a swirling teacup of Tyler’s special brew.Tyler’s canine caught on Josh’s bottom lip and sunk down, just shy of drawing blood, sharp jolt a lightning strike directly to Josh’s already-pounding heart. If he were ready to devour Josh—starting with biting his bottom lip off whole to leave his pearly teeth exposed—Josh would welcome his end with open arms.Josh was sure he was dying already, waxen wings burning up under the heat of Tyler upon him, awaiting his collapse upon the altar. His head was spinning too quickly to keep him steady, a carousel in reverse or a cyclone with an umber eye, dragging him closer to a world of midnight.Before he could tumble into the inky black, Tyler was pulling away, salvia-stained grin with all his sharp teeth in Josh’s sugar spun vision. Josh swore he could see speckled crimson on his canines, remnants of the flesh Tyler had been so poised to take from him.Josh caught his breath while Tyler looked on, still hungry, not yet sated. In that way they were two, parted at the mouth and still bound together by salvia thread. Tyler’s lips were spit-shiny with their mulberry edges, and suddenly moving.“Is this everything you dreamed of?”“Yes, my Shepherd.”Josh’s mind hit the marble, shattering stained glass, every shard far too clear. He was fucked .Tongue dry, throat as though it was closing, Josh pressed his lips together in fear of Tyler invading his space again. What the hell had possessed him to do that? He was the one to step forward, he was the one to close the gap. It was no longer a thing he could explain through the hallucinogens in his system and the words of the man before him weaving through his mind.Backing away, Josh swallowed hard, thoughts in pieces on the floor for Tyler to reconstruct another day. The moonlight burned him as it shone through the sunroom’s windows, almost as though it was punishing him for getting too close.He had gotten too close. Too fucking close. Tyler watched, wordless, as Josh stumbled out of the sunroom. In the darkness, a satisfaction tugged at his smirk, dark and twisted. Josh couldn’t figure out whether he wanted to throw up or savour the taste on his lips, glazed in divinity. As he staggered into his room, closing the door with a slam far too loud for that time of night, Josh pressed his hands over his ears in a desperate hope to silence the monster in his head. He shouldn’t have done it—but he did.He did it to get closer to Tyler for the investigation. Josh did it to get closer to Tyler for the investigation. Right?

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

With tiredness nibbling at the edges of his vision, Josh listened in on the mutters among the congregation. Gathered outside of the communion hall once again, figures of grey and tan milled around, the hum of discussion at an unusual peak compared to previous times. In the sea of devotees, Jenna pushed her way through the crowd towards Josh, Debby right behind, gossip clearly on the tip of the blonde’s tongue.

Josh, relieved, sought out answers. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“Have you seen our Shepherd?” Jenna asked, eyes bright with conviction. “He’s creating himself anew to save us.”

Flicking a glance over at Debby, Josh couldn’t help but notice the sickly green tinge to her skin, expression scarred by uncertainty. Jenna looked oblivious to her friend’s upset, wide smile pearl-shiny, clearly expecting Josh to sing their leader’s praises.

The communion hall’s double doors opened, silencing the group and swallowing heresy. Debby forced a weak smile onto her face as she split away from Jenna, wishing her designated place in the hall had been closer to her. Josh continued forwards, knowing where he was meant to be.

Midway through his step, Josh’s body seized briefly at the sight of Tyler behind the altar. He swore something was off about Tyler, but attributed it to the splashes of light and shadow cast across the communion hall. Half-moon rows formed as he approached the altar, his white cushion perfectly arranged for his place upon the dais.

Tyler was watching intently as Josh took his place, as per usual—but there was an odd glint in his eyes, an almost

proud

sparkle.

Josh’s unease reached fever-pitch as he studied Tyler’s shadow cast upon the marble, colourless robes swarming around him like vines. It seemed to loom over the entire congregation in a way it hadn’t previously, almost consuming the other shadows in its path. Even among Tyler’s robes, he could now tell something was

wrong

with Tyler.

He was physically false, visually erroneous in shadow, something not quite right but also not quite wrong.

It became terribly clear to Josh once Tyler turned to face him, lips curled in a smirk, drinking in the whispers about him like a life-giving elixir. Deep mulberry stained his lips more than ever before, and his fingertips seemed as though they’d been dipped in the vials. His skin reeked of the bitter divine, and even looking at Tyler was a hard thing for Josh to stomach without that familiar salvia haze threatening his downfall.

He could resist, though, and allowed Tyler to enter his personal space with wide eyes fixed upon the porcelain cup of tea in—

Tyler’s hands. Fingers ever so slightly too long, almost as if another joint was added along each. They curled around the edge of the glazed pottery in a distinctly unnatural way, almost skeletal in their spindly nature. Josh didn’t recognise the hands that had pieced him together, lifted him from the marble, and cradled his jaw.

A pale lilac swirled in the porcelain cup unlike the familiar sage green Josh had grown accustomed to, and despite the discrepancy, the detective took his cup diligently and held it in preparation for drinking. He was sure this tea had been brewed with the salvia that Tyler grew for himself, and the concept of being treated differently in such a way, to be given something

special

to consume, was oddly comforting.

Tyler nodded, lips pursed slightly as if trying to hold back a delighted smile at Josh’s acceptance of the tea. Standing before half-moon rows, the warmth spreading through his hands from the cup, Josh waited for his direction.

Arms raised, a wordless instruction. Gulps of tea were drank through mortal mouths, swallowed to capture some of the divinity Tyler had freely given to his people. Perfectly steady hands lowered each cup to the floor, including Josh’s own. He knew the routine, and followed it so that Tyler wouldn’t cast a scathing look in his direction. To be looked upon by the Shepherd with anything but that hungry, devouring gaze was a blessing.

Josh’s tea tasted slightly sweeter than the bitter herbal notes of the regular tea. It tasted more like

Tyler

, like the infinity he’d witnessed when their lips had met for the first time. He welcomed the taste, flooded with familiarity as it flowed into his stomach to smother his breakfast in hazy lilac. A faint smile slipped onto his lips as he observed through slightly blurred eyes, Tyler lifting his vial from the altar’s embrace.

Instead of taking a few drops, though, Tyler emptied the entire thing, then craned his neck to show Josh how remnants of the dizzying wine-purple elixir dripped down his lips. A taunt, or an invitation? Josh was no closer to understanding Tyler at all, and yet, he had been skin-to-skin with him the night prior.

Tyler set down the vial back on the altar, completely empty. He cleared his throat, wandering gaze travelling through the sea of eyes fixated upon him, and spoke.

“I share my gifted visions with you, true believers, worthy witnesses of the divine,” Tyler declared, flashing a salvia-tinged smile. “The devout are to be rewarded. Those who do not succumb to blasphemous thought.” His gaze was sharper than his teeth. “I am your psychopomp in this realm, freeing you from the uncertainty and despair of your original fates. As the heretics crumble to ash and rubble, you who believe will prevail.”

Josh listened intently, mind swimming among the lavender sea, trying to retain any information from Tyler’s sermon. Tyler spoke grandly of himself, and Josh supposed it was only fair, considering he could see the future, to act in such a way—but how was he

saving

people? What did saving people mean, to him?

Tyler continued, arms outstretched now to address the commune. “Our core tenet is salvation of body and mind, and in my palms I will cradle those worthy of the stars above shining upon them,” he said, making eye contact with those in the crowd. “I will promise you this over and over until you know this as truth.”

Josh wondered, then, what the purpose of drinking the tea was at this gathering. He thought that, perhaps, the consumption of the drug was used to help unwilling minds soak up Tyler’s rhetoric, but at the same time, were there really any unwilling minds in that room?

“Do not fear your fated stories,” Tyler assured, conviction dripping from his words like the smears of salvia concentrate on his lips. “I know you to be faithful, and I know by my guidance you will endure beyond the disasters that awaited you in the old world of dangerous ideas.”

Josh was half convinced if he looked down he’d see mulberry splatters on the dais. He swallowed hard, wondering whether he, too, could find any reassurance in those words. How could being Tyler’s Chosen possibly outweigh the life Tyler claimed to witness in his visions, the life his true God gave him?

“False idols of mortal worship cannot save you.” Tyler paused for just a moment, fixed on the sea of blank faces. “The damned will entertain their temptations, evangelise suffering and condemn others to their same peril. All will perish in the skeletal embrace of their so-called gods. Do not fall to the lesser. I cannot rescue those who refuse to see the truth.”

As he spoke, Tyler’s eyes trailed certain fragments of the half-moon rows, almost as if he could root out the dissidents with sight, feeling their disbelief through their shared state of minds altered by the salvia. Josh thought up a silent prayer for those he could be seeking, praying Debby wouldn’t be among them.

Tyler seemed to find whoever he’d been looking for, turning instead to look at Josh and his cushion for just a moment. As if Josh would dare drop to his knees before Tyler willed it. Tyler found this, too, and faced his altar.

“Comfort your hearts in knowing it is not too late for untainted outsiders to stray from their hellbound paths. Those who have not yet bore witness to these astral blessings, as you once were. If they heed our warnings with unwavering faith, they can join us and still be saved.”

That piqued Josh’s interest. Outsiders, those would be the missing persons Josh still had yet to find. Even in the half-moon rows, Josh saw not one follower who matched the faces and photos Mark had drilled into his mind. It was as if those lost souls became phantoms, wandering the endless rows of salvia. Or, worse, buried beneath them.

“These outsiders sacrifice all they’ve known to seek our glory, and that sacrifice does not go unnoticed.” Tyler’s tone softened to match his words, though jagged edges were barely hidden, sharp burrs in tall grass. “If you are among our newest, I offer you a special comfort: it’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything. You will find your true purpose here, free of your fated bonds.”

Josh’s fate was to be Tyler’s. It was something he continued to hear more often now, whether from Tyler’s lips or from other devotees. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was truly considered ‘free’ if he was allowing his fate—dying for Tyler—to creep closer and closer in the dark.

Speak of the devil, Tyler raised his arm in Josh’s direction, sweeping purple velvet. Josh straightened his posture as the sea of eyes fixed upon him, not wanting to disappoint the one person who could look at him with disdain.

“For those of you who are well-versed in our ways, you will welcome the freshly faithful with arms outstretched to bestow our blessings upon them. Just as you have welcomed our freshest of all.”

Tyler gestured to Josh with an extra flourish, “I present to you the man you have come to know as my Chosen. As you know, I have seen each of your fates as gifts from the sky above. My Chosen, he has been especially cherished by the heavens.”

Josh suppressed a shudder as Tyler’s hand landed on his shoulder, bony fingers digging into his muscle. His hand, though it was still of flesh and bone, barely felt human as it rested upon Josh, claiming him in front of the entire commune.

“A great many visions have been revealed to me, and in these I have found a most amazing truth: my own fate has been divinely bound with that of my Chosen.” Tyler smiled with all his sharp teeth, mulberry-tipped canines glinting in the stained glass lighting. “It is the wish of the stars that his fate is to be mine.”

Did the stars know they had fated something so terrible? Did they look down upon Josh now, knowing what a disastrous mistake they had made?

“His arrival beckons an auspicious time for us. Though mortal, he has been granted an extraordinary gift, an emblem of our bond. I urge you all, bear witness to his exception.”

His exception?

Josh wasn’t sure he wanted to find out what that meant—but the decision was made for him the moment Tyler turned to face him, salvia-stained fingers turning Josh’s palms outwards to face the sea of faces watching from afar.

“Be still,” Tyler whispered, ensuring Josh didn’t move a muscle, spindly fingertips like spiders on silk. “They will need to see you.”

In a swirl of velvet, Tyler was floating towards the altar with silent steps, deft hands reaching for the blade. All at once, Josh’s chest tightened, hands still frozen in place, fear cold upon his spinal cord. He was sure his death was imminent, though a part of him reasoned that Tyler was not so cruel to do such a thing without reason. He hoped part of him was right.

Tyler wordlessly brought the blade to his own palm, expression vacant, before pushing the sharpened edge into his skin.

The nerves along Josh’s left palm were immediately set alight, napalm on a wooden cottage. Falling to his knees, unsteady, he panted with the desperation of a dog caught in barbed wire. The pain did not retreat, biting down harder, and that was when he looked up with fogged sight to see Tyler’s lip ever so slightly curled in a snarl, mouth forming one word.

“

Joshua

,” a name spoken harshly and relentlessly, a laceration across Josh’s shattering psyche.

He scrambled to his feet, resuming his position despite the burn spreading further across his left palm, a bloody handprint now marring the marble altar. He was sure to pay for that mistake later—or, perhaps, he was already doing so right then.

Josh kept his neck straight, barely able to see the damage being done, and yet he could feel the blood already dripping down his fingers. His thoughts clashed in the discrepancy, Tyler and the blade in front of the altar, so far away, and the pain all around Josh in a cruel embrace.

Skin caught, snagging on the microscopic imperfections of the metal. Flesh was split in a dizzying speed, Josh’s vision threatening to tumble as the torment clouded his consciousness. He wondered, almost delusionally, if he would be punished further if he passed out in front of the congregation. He’d be a disgrace, if he wasn’t already.

Relief was only short lived as Tyler finished his first carving and moved to the next. Josh swore that Tyler’s blood on the marble was definitely less of a red and more of a maroon, but in the haze of lavender, it was hard to distinguish what was true. Perhaps, if he looked down to see his own blood, it would be the same—infiltrated by mulberry, blessed by the prick of thorned salvia.

All he knew was that he was being torn apart, and he knew that he deserved it.

Oh, my God.

Josh didn’t know who he was praying to, anymore.

The reprieve was only as graceful as the peace between each searing throb of Josh’s heart, hands covered in blood from the wounds carved by divine hands of invisible gods. Even as Tyler placed the blade, now drenched from tip to hilt in the very same display of mortality as the marble now was, Josh could barely process what had just happened.

Just as quickly as the pain had arrived, it vanished. Josh’s fingers twitched, middle and ring fingers daring to brush his wounds—no,

scars

. His skin was still slick with blood, but he could feel that distinct twist of scar tissue in place of where he once had unblemished skin. The very same eye shapes carved onto Tyler’s palms were staring back up at Josh from his own palms. Josh was convinced he must be dreaming.

Despite the horror, Josh felt a cleansing wash of light upon him, a conviction in declaring the event a miracle. He was still investigating, yes, but he could no longer deny that Tyler was no man at all. No fraud, for how would a fraud wield godly power so effortlessly?

He had to tell Mark.

Not only of the terror, of knowing Tyler had full dominion over him, but also the phenomena that occurred at the wave of a salvia-stained hand.

It was impossible. It was happening, undeniably. It was divine.

Josh searched for Debby among the rows of devotees, catching a glimpse of her wide eyes, mouth parted. Shock bled from her shadow, seeping out like silvery wisps, and they stung Josh’s face as they passed him. He met her gaze briefly, trying desperately to convey his own message through flickering eyelids and heavy swallows of lead-filled saliva.

On the other side of the hall, Jenna was fixated on Josh’s wounds. She noticed him staring and shrunk into herself, bowing her head ever so slightly. There was belief burning in her ocean eyes, a fire untamed. She had seen the truth and could not deny its beauty.

Josh turned away, unwilling to face her pious expression for more than a few seconds. Jenna had shared his terror over Tyler’s salvia plants, the earliest signs of his twisted fate, yet she had no reservations about her worship under the Shepherd’s watchful eye. That duality felt more unsettling to Josh than facing more devout believers.

Purple velvet swept again, commanding Josh’s attention back towards the altar, the bloody aftermath of his ‘

exception.

’ Even the scars on Tyler’s gesturing palm were a perfect match to Josh’s own, jagged at the very start of the carvings.

A brief and ridiculous thought found Josh through the haze, to trace both sets of scars with his forefinger to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. Josh’s eyes were working just fine to see Tyler waving again, a warning to focus and heed his word.

“You, true believers, have witnessed a miracle. My Chosen has proven himself worthy in the eyes of the divine, receiving a gift unlike any other. You will do well to remember what you have seen today.”

How could Tyler simply continue his sermon with no regard to what he had just done?

Josh’s brain seemed to flow as freely as his own blood, grey matter transformed into a disgusting sludge. Neurons died by the second, and Josh wasn’t sure whether it was the drug doing it or Tyler’s grasp on him. The sea of eyes before him were transfixed on Tyler again, almost as though Josh’s little display hadn’t even happened at all.

“Heretics and those forsaken may test your faith, deny our creed. You will prevail because you strive for salvation.”

Lips parted by the command of unseen hands. Josh had no idea he was meant to respond, or what with, until his vocal cords had already produced the words for him.

“Grant us our salvation.”

Voices echoed through the communion hall, all in unison. They knew the words to respond with, and somehow, Josh did too. It was as though Tyler was inside of his head, puppeteering him, parroting back the words he was required to respond with.

Panic rose from within, a bubbling fury. He didn’t want to say that. He hadn’t even known what to say. Why had he said it?

Josh redirected his eyes towards Tyler, whose umber eyes were burning through him. A smirk was on his mulberry-tinged lips, knowing that Josh had spoken the words without ever meaning to. Dark satisfaction, a gleeful celebration silent in glinting eyes.

Tyler then turned to address the commune once again. “I know you to be deserving of my guidance. The stars have revealed your misery for me to remedy, and I stand before you offering what you seek.”

Josh tried to fight it. He bit his tongue, drawing blood and something else slightly bitter, slightly familiar. With a jaw clenched shut, his skull ached—until it opened loosely, relaxed, and Josh’s lips moved of their own accord. Iron flooded his mouth, but the words still came as flowing and unrestrained as before.

“Blessed be our Shepherd.”

Fuck.

Fuck

. He couldn’t fight it.

It wasn’t the salvia haze—Josh felt strangely present and aware, perhaps struck into lucidity from the pain of the carvings. Something was writhing inside of him, a parasite planted in his intestines as a challenge to his humanity. If he was to remain here, it was likely the monster inside of him would eat his heart and take up housing in his shell.

“The heavens will continue to favour those who remain faithful,” Tyler’s voice increased in volume, finishing his address to his devout followers. “You, grateful for your glory, free of false beliefs. Fate smiles upon you as I have willed.”

Josh, letting his false beliefs established by the society he’d known slip from between his fingers, answered as he should.

“As our Shepherd wills.”

///

Only under the candlelight did Josh finally notice the faint smudges of salvia purple fingertips on his linen shirt.

As he sat on the edge of his bed after conveying more information to Mark, he could have sworn that Tyler was behind him, hand still on his shoulder. The weight of his perception was still present, unsettlingly so, but in a way it was comforting to feel as though he was consoled in his turmoil. Josh had told Mark everything. Everything he could, everything he remembered.

Mark had called Tyler ‘fascinating’, but Josh wanted to assure him that Tyler was much more than that.

Wearing his alabaster shirt, marked by a god, Josh laid underneath the light covers. He should’ve changed out of his day clothes, but the absence of the heavy hand to remind him who he was felt too jarring, too violent.

An absent hand traced the scar tissue on his left palm. Light dustings of his fingertip sent shivers across his body. He knew the curve of the deviant skin before long. He knew exactly where Tyler had started carving the eye—in the inner corner. In the darkness, a faint smile turned at the edges of his lips. Something about the perfection in execution made them artworks, rivalling his own tattoo ink, and Josh felt blessed to have such things on his skin.

Josh couldn’t sleep that night. His eyes remained wide open as he alternated between each palm, tracing the scars repeatedly, until the sun began peeking through from behind the curtains.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Showered in afternoon sunlight through the sunroom windows, Josh sat cross-legged on the floor across from Tyler. Through the glass, the breeze rustled wine-dark leaves, their ancient whisperings no longer able to reach Josh—he’d requested to face away from the windows. Tyler had complied in a flash of canines, tinged slightly purple still from his consumption of his tincture the day before. He would always ensure his Chosen was comfortable.

“How are you feeling, my Chosen?”

Porcelain cup in hand, lavender swirling, Josh swallowed another sip of the tea. He studied Tyler’s expression, tried to gauge the concern in his crow’s feet. Was he meant to be honest?

“I…” Josh bit his tongue before committing to an answer. “Yesterday’s ritual hurt, my Shepherd. Will I have to go through that again?”

Surely, Tyler would appreciate him being honest. It wasn’t a declaration of disbelief, just a hopeful attempt at trying to save himself from future pain.

Tyler leaned forwards, reaching out. “It will not hurt for much longer,” he said, soft voice accompanying a softer hand on Josh’s jaw, cradling it. “I would never wish suffering upon you, Joshua.”

His eyes were warm, too, a shift from the burning stare Josh had almost grown familiar with. Closer to embers from a bonfire, a little shiny with sparks. Distracting from the full weight of his words, beyond that Josh’s pain would be coming to an end. Tyler would will it so, for him.

“Thank you, my Shepherd.”

Rather than respond, Tyler’s free hand took Josh’s teacup from him, lifting the porcelain right to his lips. Another comfort in the slight tinge of sweetness as Josh took his last sip. Just as Tyler lowered the cup to the marble below, his eyelids flickered briefly. Wrinkles turned sour as his breath audibly hitched.

Josh frowned slightly, tilting his head in concern. “Is something wrong, my Shepherd?”

Tyler shook his head wordlessly, pressure building up around his temples. Everything was incredibly

right

, really, bones aching with the weight of change. His mouth was too dry, in need of being satiated by the only thing that he hungered for. Only one vial was prepared, waiting for its consumption on the altar.

There was a distinct desperation to the way Tyler got to his feet, staggering, his usual grace partially shattered by something that wasn’t quite fear, wasn’t quite excitement. He was eager, spit pooling around his tongue as he entered his room with mind already locked on the cabinet beside his nightstand. Spindly fingers were barely able to grab ahold of the tiny vials in darkness.

Emerging back into the sunroom, Tyler retrieved the other vial from the altar and returned to his seat. It was his turn to be consumed by the purple haze, though he knew with the sensation of millions of hands pushing out against his skull that the consumption would be worth it. The gods were telling him to drink, and so he did so with the hope they were watching from the stars.

He almost chuckled as he uncorked one of the vials, remembering only days prior he had been taking drops. It used to take him a week to get through two vials, but here he was, drinking the same amount in half a second. The sweet-but-bitter taste of his elixir flooded his mouth, staining tendrils leaving their mark on his inner lips and gums.

Josh watched, mesmerised by the tipped glass draining every last bit of its wine shade into parted lips. Tyler’s hungry eyes had returned somewhere in his staggered quest, for the first time fixed on something besides Josh: the single drop of salvia that fell onto the dais, lost to the marble.

All at once Tyler was overcome with the urge to collapse in front of that drop, scars raised upwards to the stars. He had wasted a drop. He had wasted something gifted to him by the gods. He would have to repent. Repentance was the first step to transformation—but his transformation had already begun. The gods would have to wait.

Josh was torn out of his staring by Tyler’s salvia-stained hands reaching for his wrists, upturning his palms with the same precision as he had at the altar before reaching for the ritual blade. Was this why Tyler had been so gentle with him? To ease his worries before another display of their connection purely for their eyes?

Tyler pulled away, leaving Josh’s hands once again poised for agony. Josh couldn’t watch, scrambling to hide his gaze in the velvet of Tyler’s robes, mulberry lips at the fuzzy edge of his vision. Tyler was nearly smiling, maybe closer to a smirk with Josh being so easily sated.

Then, featherlight, Josh felt a fingertip graze his left palm, the innermost corner of the scar.

Oh.

No blade, no bleeding, just Tyler tracing the outer curve of the carved eye as slow as sweet molasses.

Outside of Josh’s peripheral vision, his eyes fixed on the stained fingertip tracing his new features, skin split to make way for something new. The pressure in Tyler’s temples increased, almost as though it was beginning to escape from the new openings in his flesh. Breathing steady, Tyler continued to trace with both hands, eyes catching a glimpse of himself in the window’s reflection.

The velvety, soft shell around two points revealed his next step towards ascension. Tyler’s lips parted slightly. A mix of bliss and relief was coursing through his veins, light and delicate.

Josh held back shivers as Tyler’s tracing became fainter, the assurance of softness at the forefront of his mind. Tyler wouldn’t hurt him—it was no game, he was no prey chased by a predator. A lion would not be merciful to a lamb with a broken leg. Steadying his breathing to be in tandem with his Shepherd, Josh gazed up at Tyler.

Two neat lines of blood were dripping from Tyler’s temples, now occupied by growing antlers of a young deer. Horns of a young demon, or the scaffolding for an angel’s halo? A sick, salvia-stained smile accompanied Tyler’s repetitive light touches. Josh’s eyes widened, but he was immediately redirected from the sight by Tyler ceasing his tracing ritual.

“Shhh,” Tyler coaxed, placing his hands over Josh’s eyes, raised imprints on palms looking right back. “Close your eyes, my Chosen. Do not be afraid.”

Josh did as he was told, knowing it was for his own good.

Once Tyler was sure Josh’s eyes were closed, he stood from his place upon the dais and stared deeply into his reflection in the window. His skin was tingling, pressure at a fever-pitch in his head. He felt feral, as though the foam in his mouth was the glorious purple he’d consumed. Thoughts raced through his mind without true purpose or coherence.

Droplets of blood streamed down from the openings left behind from his antlers’ emergence. Tyler understood that the velvet was to help deer’s antlers grow, only to fall away once they were fully grown, but he was impatient. He didn’t care if it hurt. He wanted it gone.

A pang of compassion struck his heart as he looked down at his Chosen, obediently sitting and waiting for his return. Tyler decided he was to distract Josh, to keep his fear at bay as he satiated his own craving.

“The stars favour you, my Chosen,” he spoke, digging his fingernails into the fleshy velvet.

Josh listened intently, silently. As he did so, Tyler ripped a finger through the velvet, wet and slick on the inside. The bony core of his new growth remained solid, covered in the blood that would have facilitated further growth. He took a fistful of the velvet in hand, stringy pieces trailing behind like morbid fairy lights, glinting in the sun.

Tyler continued speaking to mask the sound of the velvet landing on the marble. “Your gifts elevate you in the eyes of the gods. Do well to remember that.”

Every piece Tyler peeled away was slung onto the floor, splattering in some places and landing softly in others, cushioned by the velvet torn apart. More bone was now visible than what Tyler had shed, his hands covered in blood down to the wrist in an effort to tear away the remainder. Something about his grasps were frenzied, and yet, he remained collected and in one piece to keep his Chosen from worrying.

Tyler clenched his jaw as he pulled at the last few pieces, shaking away the wisps and letting strands of flesh stick to the marble. Whether Josh was hearing the sound of each impact or not was unclear, but as he approached his Chosen once again to comfort him with still-bloodied hands, Josh could tell to lean into the incoming touch.

“Everything you have witnessed is for a reason, Joshua. It is our fate.”

Blood-slick fingertips went back to tracing the eyes looking up from Josh’s palms one last time as a signal for Josh to open his eyes. At the urging, Josh was witness to a salvia lump sticking in his throat, staring at the antlers that had emerged from Tyler’s temples—and the proud smile Tyler wore among the almost burgundy tint to his blood.

Tyler broke his smile in two to whisper an assertion to Josh. “Do not worry about the parts of me I have cast away.”

Josh kept his eyes upon Tyler’s piercing eyes and salvia-tinged lips, studying how the deep purple seemed to seep through his flesh.

Tyler hummed as he got to his feet once again, retrieving the wash basin that had been used during Josh’s haircut. It was full of water, clean as if almost prepared for the plum-tinged blood on Tyler’s hands in need of being washed away. Setting it down on the marble, silent in action and word, Tyler plunged his hands into the basin.

Slowly but surely, the water turned a pale crimson, diluting the sins of the man cleansing himself in it.

Josh prepared to close his eyes again when Tyler’s hands re-entered his periphery, unwilling to face the carnage he’d been directed to hide from. Though he hesitated when he was greeted with clean skin, approaching slowly as if Josh were a wounded deer caught in a wire fence.

Salvia was ever-present even with the evidence of Tyler’s actions washed away, staining his palms and fingers up to his knuckles. The sight was comforting in a way, much more than the dripping crimson at his temples that had given way to his antlers. Josh kept his focus solely on the purple, Tyler’s palms and his lips with the faint smile behind them.

Once his own hands were clean, Tyler reached forwards with dripping fingers to take Josh’s hands between his own. In silence, the salvia-lipped man poured water over the smears of blood he had left behind on his Chosen’s hands, washing away the final remainders of liquid sin that Josh had seen. There was a distinct care to every caress.

Both let the droplets fall from their clean hands, waiting until there was only a dampness to skin left behind. The basin of water held the memory of what had happened, but no skin between the two men was blemished to indicate anything had taken place at all. Tyler pushed aside the basin, red-tinted water sloshing a little as it found its new home at the base of the altar.

When Tyler’s hands angled towards Josh’s neck, he knew to tilt his chin up and make it easier for Tyler to reach the string of pearls. A bead was caught between two fingers, that strange fascination back in shiny eyes, and his other hand reached around for the clasp.

“May I replace this for you?”

Josh found his lips moving before he could process the question. “Yes, my Shepherd.”

Then his brain kicked back into gear, one word pinballing around with a vengeance.

Replace?

Before he could think too much of it, or risk blurting a protest, Tyler was already parting the two halves of the choker away from Josh’s neck. He tucked it beneath his robes far from Josh’s view, and this time, Josh knew he wouldn’t be getting it back.

“Be still,” Tyler directed simply, and his hands came up towards Josh’s neck again.

For a brief moment Josh worried that Tyler would harm him, leave some sick imitation of jewellery with nails dug into his skin or far worse. Though the idea slipped from his mind as Tyler’s fingertips brushed his collarbone as gently as he’d been all afternoon. Tyler had reassured him he didn’t wish suffering on him, and every little gesture was tripling down.

Tyler’s fingers traced above the neckline of Josh’s tunic with precision, just below where his necklace had sat a minute prior. His hands and Josh’s chin hid his movements from view, all Josh could do was feel the light dots of pressure and keep his fuzzy focus on Tyler’s lips.

“You are an exceptional mortal,” Tyler whispered, deft hands slowing their rhythm.

Exceptional.

Tyler had said the same at the altar, right before the agony inflicted by his blade. What did he mean exactly? Josh was a man like any other in the commune. Even with Tyler’s grand declarations of his fate, with the claiming as his Chosen, Josh was no ‘gift from the heavens’ as Tyler might call him.

Did Tyler mean that Josh was a cop? He claimed to know him for his entire life, had proven he knew a memory from thirty years before they’d ever met, yet he never said a word about Josh’s six years at the precinct. Was he just waiting for Josh to slip up in private, under the salvia’s influence, and make him repent for his betrayal?

Did Josh’s job even matter for Tyler’s delusions? Tyler seemed so sure of his divine blessings, of Josh’s ultimate sacrifice for him. As if it were set in stone, immovable, greater than their life paths.

Tyler’s hand stilled on Josh’s collarbone, pulling him out of his head jarringly fast. Josh could still feel the slight warmth where his fingers had been tracing, a trail of dots across his collar.

Meeting gazes, staring right into those umber eyes, Josh felt safe, comforted. Tyler’s expression truly seemed to radiate a kindness unlike anything Josh thought would ever be coming from an unyielding leader like Tyler. It was unsettling, slightly, but also strangely comforting to know that Tyler looked at him that way.

With adoration, with care. It was an alien feeling, but also a distinctly familiar feeling. It felt

right

.

“Walk with me.” Tyler extended a hand which Josh took, pulling him to stand on creaking knees from holding his ritual pose for so long.

Crossing the marble, the pair approached the same doorway Tyler had vanished into prior to his antlers emerging, and as they passed through, Tyler had to duck ever so slightly to avoid bumping into the frame. It was as though he had always had the variation in height, despite the change only occurring moments prior.

The room, which Josh now understood was Tyler’s bedroom, was mostly shrouded in shadow even with the light from the sunroom spilling inwards. It was a glimpse of the private space that Josh hadn’t expected to receive, but only because of the mirror above the dresser that Tyler was pulling him towards. They weaved around the edge of a modest bed, frame a deep walnut wood and sheets an unsurprising plum purple to match the rows of Tyler’s salvia just outside.

Josh bit down hard on his cheek as they stopped in front of the mirror. He begged to see himself in his reflection instead of wearing a face that wasn’t his own.

In a curve across Josh’s collar, salvia-stain fingerprints lay like rough-cut crystals or a set of shark teeth, tapered edges where the salvia had smudged in its transfer from Tyler’s hands. Each mark had been placed with care, a clear attempt at something close to Josh’s pearls. Close to

pretty

.

Josh brought his own hand up to trace each of the prints, still feeling the concentrate’s lingering warmth as he trailed phantoms of Tyler’s creation. He was light with his touch, careful not to smudge the design. Tyler wouldn’t like that very much with the way he was looking at Josh’s reflection.

Staring with those bright umber eyes, the corner of his lip was quirked in something close to a smirk. The same smugness Josh dreamed Tyler would have after a conquest. Which was fair, wasn’t it? He had taken Josh’s favourite necklace and replaced it with markings of his own creation, just like he said and Josh agreed to. Claimed him.

Tyler’s eyes met Josh’s in the glass and his lips drew a greater curve, more hunger seeping into his irises. His ravenous look that threatened salvia teeth sinking into Josh where he stood. “How do you feel, my Chosen?”

Josh thought for a moment, thumb stilling on his skin. Tyler had only been gentle, alarmingly so, yet he’d stripped away the last of Josh’s known possessions like it meant nothing, too. Less than, if Tyler’s disdain for the choker hadn’t been clear long before he’d unclasped it for the final time.

Worse, Tyler’s design could only be described as beautiful. Josh had been granted something personal, special, with the only cost being his necklace in exchange. A temporary work of art painted by slow hands. Far too close to something precious.

“Why… why did you remove my choker?”

Tyler’s salvia maw became a proper grin, canines sharp as ever.

“The divine have blessed you, my Chosen, and your decoration should reflect that.”

///

The bathhouse was hazier at night, moonlight diffusing through the steam from the inky water. Quieter without the devotees pouring in from their working days, just Josh and the vacant pool.

Josh’s door had been unlocked, giving way at the first turn of the knob, hard metal still foreign on his scarred palm. He wasn’t sure if it was a comfort or warning, now being able to wander the compound so freely while the devotees around him were fast asleep. Would Tyler be expecting Josh to seek him out again, or worse, expect that stellar force to walk him right up to Tyler’s door?

For tonight, at least, Josh was able to make his way to the bathhouse without interruption.

Alone, he stripped away his white linens and kicked aside his sandals, leaving them in a neat pile beside a wooden bench along the far wall from the entrance. Despite being so exposed in such a place—not only completely naked, but completely naked in a very large room—Josh felt the steam press into his skin as a replacement for his clothing. The aches in his muscles were teased from their hiding places.

A wide mirror had been hung across the tiled wall, barely a few inches above the water’s surface. Josh carefully stepped into the pool, hot water enveloping him as he slipped fully into the comforting warmth. Ripples formed as he waded through, bare feet slightly unsteady on the mosaic tiles underwater.

On a small ledge before the mirror, a collection of cloths and brushes lay in wait for use. His hand reached straight for the brush, testing the rough bristles absently with a fingertip. He had to get rid of what Tyler had smeared all over him. Surely, having the salvia concentrate on bare skin was fucking with his head, warping his thoughts.

Everything in the commune was messing with his head. He couldn’t figure out if he was repulsed or enamoured by Tyler, captivated by the fascination he seemed to hold for Josh. Now, with permanent evidence of his connection with Tyler, Josh had to wonder what he would do with the eye carvings on his palms if he ever made it out. Would he have to live with them forever, struck by the impossible markings of a god?

The idea of living with them forever brought a strange comfort to him before he cast the emotion aside.

Looking up at the mirror, Josh was relieved to see himself once again. Josh hadn’t dared to look at his reflection alone since he saw Tyler staring back at him all those days ago, and feared those hungry eyes every moment.

A violent cocktail of disgust and adoration filled Josh’s chest as it swelled, lungs heaving at the sight of the inky purple markings across his collarbone to replace his missing choker. His body wasn’t even his own anymore. He was speaking words summoned to his lips by his Shepherd, participating in rituals with the mindset of a believer. Josh should have run away days ago, and yet, he was still there.

What did that make him, then? A persistent detective ensuring his job was complete, or a believer who wished to be saved by his Shepherd?

Tracing the stained collar, the edge of his lip twitched. He doused the brush in water, then began scrubbing. Dead skin fell away in flakes, then curled pieces of skin underneath. Soon, raw, young, pinkish skin emerged from the frantic brushing. Josh rubbed back and forth over his collarbone with the brush, wincing at the skittering burn along his skin.

He brushed harder. The mulberry stains winked at him between brushes, taunting him. Josh gritted his teeth as the pain intensified. All of the love for the markings he’d been gifted vanished as he scrubbed, warm water barely dampening the blow.

It wasn’t going away. It wasn’t fucking going away. The smears remained. Plum reminders of the claim Tyler had staked over him. What the fuck had he done? Josh had happily given up his last thing from the outside world before he could stop himself. He wasn’t even ‘Josh’ here, swallowed by the title Tyler had imprinted on him.

Josh had to get those damned stains off. He imagined thrusting a fist into the mirror, grabbing ahold of a glassy shard between bloodied fingers. If he wasn’t able to scrub it away, he’d cut the rot out of him in hopes it would not spread further. He’d slip the shard underneath his skin and ensure he removed every last remnant of the salvia.

Carving, gouging. Anything to get them out. Was it worth the pain?

Lowering the brush, Josh released an exhausted, exasperated breath. He supposed it was at least a twisted kindness to be given anything at all to replace his choker.