Cult is a nebulous term that should be avoided in most situations, and is, frankly, often discriminatory and rude. From the outside, the Dastardly Oligarchy of Blood Sucking Vampires might seem like a barbaric cult that deals in draining the lifeforce from decrepit villagers, but you’d be close minded to think that. Blood is not lifeforce. And while they do suck blood from the poor working class a.k.a fodder, all blood sucking comes with proper consent. Naysayers will say that consent can’t be given after becoming a mindless thrall, but they’re just jealous of the spotless pale skin and the increased lifespan that all vampires acquire. Cults are often more ethical when you look just a little bit deeper than what is on the surface.

As I scrambled deeper into Esmeralda’s Inn, it occurred to me that colors on the wall were getting more vibrant and the architecture more whimsical. They even had clouds painted onto the walls. Clouds. I was by no means a cynic, but I did feel like the Inn lacked the gloom and doom that was found in the real world. Where were the unforgiving stone walls that represented the misery and toil of physical labor? Where was death represented in the ecosystem of the overly cute depictions of animals that were plastered on the walls? It just came across as insincere as I found myself sprinting down corridor after corridor to survive.

The war horns had been blown, signaling to Esmeralda’s goons that there was a mole amongst their customers. Azog and I had picked up the pace, but it was confusing for Azog whose memories were slightly fuzzy, not quite remembering where the deluxe princess suite was. All the doors were neatly aligned and were composed of the same dark-stained mahogany wood. Azog stood a few feet behind me and prepared his fists, ready to fight, as I swung one such door open.

“Ahhhhh,” screamed a Goblin who had been bouncing on the bed. In her hands, she wielded a brush that she flung towards me. The brush traveled in a glorious arc, but only traveled a few feet. It did not reach the door. I slammed the door shut.

“That’s room 34. How does this Inn have so many rooms? The outside doesn’t look this big.” I asked Azog.

“Pretty deceptive, huh. Do you think it’s the lighting?”

“I don’t think so. Lighting doesn’t magically create doors and seemingly endless rooms, although I do admit that the hall probably looks roomier due to the bright floral colors.”

Azog peeked around the corner; he saw a few nondescript henchmen charging down the hall.

“We’ve got two incoming hostiles. No weapons, just large muscles.”

I nodded.

“Are we going with the pincer move just like before?” I asked.

“No. I’m too tired and they're too quick. I say we just hit them fast and hard.” said Azog. What Azog actually meant was that he would hit hard and fast. I hit fast, but compared to him, I didn’t hit very hard.

Without the illuminated halls ever dimming, it was hard to tell how much time had actually passed down in the seemingly endless corridors. Worse, neither Azog nor I kept track of where we had come from. We might as well have been lost in the deepest and darkest cave. To be perfectly honest, neither of us remembered how we arrived at the hall we had just traversed. It must have been the adrenaline.

As the henchmen, who looked like henchmen… Actually, I couldn’t quite place the color of their clothes or their height. Like a fever dream, the details were, well, blurry. That didn’t matter because I still knew how to kick and punch. As the henchman turned the corner, I charged, putting my full weight into the tackle. The unsuspecting henchman slammed onto the ground, flailing in desperation. It was punch or be punched, so I did not hesitate to lay my fists into the goon.

There was no blood; only the henchman's soft groan indicated that he was incapacitated. Azog had already taken out the other henchman and tied his slumped over body… detained the henchman's body before running over to me.

“Maybe these guys will know what is going on. They’ve got to know something,” Azog reckoned.

“Just like the last five people we’ve detained. They’re tight lipped at the very least, or, they're good actors.”

“Not actors!”

“It’s a possibility, albeit a grim one.”

“Well, let's stop fooling around, Arthur.”

Azog turned to face the man, sitting cross legged on the floor. I had done a good job kicking him onto the ground.

“Where is the princess suite?” Azog demanded.

Inaudible muffled noises came from the henchman.

“That’s not what we’re asking for. Can you be a little clearer? We’re having trouble understanding what you’re saying.” I exclaimed, my frustration getting the better of me.

More inaudible muffled noises followed.

“Forget this! Let’s go back to checking the doors!” I said. Then, I stopped. In the corner of the room we resided was a strange red glow that seemed familiar. I could not place where I had seen it before, at least not immediately. But I kept looking at the red wisps.

I recalled a memory: something the Dark One had told me.

“The mundane and boring magic users tend to stray away from mana sight. They say it causes people to go insane, that the squiggles cause madness.” I remember it being a warning of sorts. I came to the realization that maybe I had gone mad, and not the sort of angry type of mad.

But as I stood there, staring at the red hue in the corner of the pavilion, I wondered how both Azog and I had lost our minds. In the same way that no two minds were the same, no two minds broke simultaneously at the same time. And, if those two minds did happen to break simultaneously, then it was unlikely that they’d be compatible enough in their delusions that they could cooperate with each other. No, there was something else going on.

“Why are we sitting around doing nothing! We need to go save Rose from this place!” Azog roared.

“Quiet, Azog. I’m thinking.”

“There’s no time to think, boy! We’re being tailed at this very moment.”

“No. No. Something is off. Something isn’t right. Do you see the red, Azog?”

“Are you losing your mind?! This is not the time to be having a mental breakdown, Arthur. No, I don’t see any red.”

And then it hit me like a horse drawn carriage. The pain and suffering, the torture I endured to gain mana sight flashed through my mind. I remembered. The strange feelings, experiences, memories were coming from the dark red mana. It permeated throughout the surroundings messing with my reality. I desperately willed the red mana away from my body, my eyes, my ears. It resisted. I strained and strained and strained. I let out a sigh of relief as it began to dissipate.

A row of tightly packed hard wooden ‘beds’ greeted my eyes. Numerous people laid on these ‘beds’ like how the dead laid in their graves motionless. The nice flooring that I walked on was no longer nice, replaced with rotting wood ravaged by termites. The place smelled like mold.

I swiveled my head to see Azog standing upright, motioning with his hands, staring at nothing in particular. His body was covered in sweat from terror more than exertion. It was an odd sight.

There was someone else in the room, sitting behind a desk. A woman, with nicely kept brown hair and piercing green eyes. She wore a velvet dress as she leaned back in her chair. I turned and stared at her. She smiled, although her teeth weren’t as white as I remembered. She straightened her back before speaking.

“Reality is often disappointing, don’t you think?”