"You'll beg for the whispers to end...
You'll wish for a metaphor...
And when you finally hear it...really hear it...
You'll wish you'd died at seventeen."
The madman's words echoed in Faust's mind like a bell, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead.
"Thinking about that gibberish now? You do have a death wish, Faust."
Around him, the desert stretched infinitely. The sand swallowed his boots, and the sky split open, bleeding crimson light. He tugged at his gloves and scanned the area once more, letting out a low grunt as his face contorted in excruciating discomfort.
"The whispers aren't just voices anymore; they're like teeth gnawing at my skull, like a thousand tongues promising madness. Indeed, the whispers intensify during the Seventeen Ceremonies."
He gritted his teeth as he checked his pocket watch. "Almost twenty minutes..." He smacked his face with his palm and scolded himself, "Not like Casper. I can't end up like Casper."
Twenty minutes was all it took for his brother, Casper, to succumb to the whispers.
"Dryland. Bleeding sky. Twenty minutes in and still no metaphor, just the whispers growing louder, hungrier."
With a sudden flicker in his left eye, the world rippled, the desert vanished, and reality snapped back like a frayed rope.
***
The cold stone bit into Faust's knees. The altar loomed ahead, obsidian; six others knelt beside him, three on one side and three on the other, with their guardians trembling at their backs.
"Listen," the priest commanded.
The kneeling figures wore strange cloth headgear and dark linen robes, marking them as the focus of attention. Leather-bound contraptions forced their hands against their ears, fingers digging into their skulls as if to physically block the whispers.
Occasionally, the priest's attendants would adjust the kneeling individuals' headgear, tightening its grip.
Behind kneeling Faust stood a man dressed in a long frock coat and windbreaker, and a woman in a dark regal gown, his guardians, his parents.
The woman turned to her husband, her eyes red-rimmed and dull with fear and despair. She gripped his frock coat tightly.
"Faust can't... end up... like... Casper, Dominic."
Dominic turned to her, taking her hand gently. The soft glow of the altar candles illuminated his sharp facial features, his eyes reflecting a deep understanding; after all, it was on a day like this that they had lost their son, Casper.
Checking his pocket watch, he assured her, "It's only been twenty minutes; Faust can do it."
Just as he finished speaking, phantom-like humanoid creatures began to materialize.
Claire gripped Dominic's arm; the sudden sight filled her with dread.
The congregation tensed, a ripple of gasps spreading through the pews.
Father Maximus Korr, the priest, bore a glint of worry in his eyes as he turned his attention from the phantom creatures to address the congregation.
"Calm yourselves. As long as they can hear their metaphor before it's too late…" His gaze shifted from the kneeling celebrants back to the congregation, "… as long as they hear their metaphor before it's too late, you don't need to worry about these lesser spirits. Remember, clarity comes to those who listen."
Just as he finished speaking, one of the lesser spirits, a humanoid cat with scales on its face bolted toward a kneeling woman.
Before it could make contact, a sharp light ignited as Father Maximus sent forth a chain that coiled around the cat-like spirit's neck, immediately nullifying its presence.
This scene was exhilarating, which was part of why some people attended the Seventeen Ceremony. Amid the constant attacks from lesser spirits in the world, attendees were allowed to witness these occurrences during the ceremony. For some, it had become a twisted form of entertainment.
Father Maximus adjusted his garments, his forehead creasing with thought. "I killed one… I must avoid doing that, or I risk inviting more."
As he pondered, two ripples in space appeared, heralding the emergence of two grotesque, phantom-like creatures.
These lesser spirits did not attack; they waited for the kneeling individuals to become more vulnerable. If a person failed to hear their metaphor, they would succumb to insanity, weakening their will and making them more susceptible to possession.
***
In the desert-like world...
"Clarity comes to those who listen... "
Faust scoffed as he dragged himself approaching the point of the bleeding sky. "... I've been doing that and all I hear is countless ravings. More like insanity comes to those who listen. "
Faust shook his head as he went through what he knew in his head. He had been reminded countless times how the process worked."
"The Seventeen Ceremony was a ritual that granted an individual a metaphor."
The whispers never stopped. From birth, they filled the minds of all, constant, meaningless, maddening, like static through a soul. But at seventeen and above, one could attempt the Ceremony. Kneel before the altar taking the listener pose with the help of the headgear in a cathedral. Enter the liminal realm. Find the bleeding sky. And if you're lucky, if you listen hard enough, you'll hear a single word from the countless whispers. A metaphor.
It silences the whispers. Gives meaning. Power. Purpose.
But if you fail? Madness, possession... or worse.
The seventeen ceremony could only be done by individuals from the age of 17 and above.
As Faust thought to himself, he walked around with his hand behind his ear as if trying to hear something. Anything. As he tried to listen for his metaphor.
Faust wasn't exactly 17, the death of his brother broke the family. Casper had failed to hear any metaphor in time and instantly went insane; the priest tried to nullify its effects, but the nullification abilities of a priest were only effective on account of an attracted lesser spirit during the ceremony.
Once insanity takes hold, there's no saving. In Casper's case, the screws in his mind loosened fast...
He instantly began to mutilate himself gradually killing himself in the process.
Due to this incident, Faust's parents had purposely postponed his seventeen ceremony until his 18th birthday. At this time, all his friends were already having their metaphors and spirit gears.
"I haven't even gotten a spirit gear". With a smack to his head, he looked at his glove and adjusted it.
" At least Casper manifested his spirit gear. I have to focus. Is there something am missing? "
Faust looked up to the bleeding sky. It wasn't clear what was leaking from the sky, but whatever it was, it was bathing the earth like fog.
Faust yawned as he looked around.
"Nothing in sight, this... A desert. Gelatea and Uriel's version of the liminal space was different; Gelatea's was a town shrouded in a dark fog while Uriel's was a dense forest with constant bleeding sky which was present no matter the version of the space".
Stretching his arms his face brightened as a flash of idea came to mind.
"Why don't I take a rest? I am supposed to listen for my metaphor, but if I am being fair to myself, I don't think anyone has been in a desert space like this. I can't kill myself before the whisper does... Right?".
With that, he spotted a rock, and using its shaded part as cover, he lay there for a rest.
***
Back at the Cathedral of Whispers
Dominic looked at his wife, Claire, whose eyes were already welling with tears. As much as he felt fear inside, he struggled to express his emotions.
Claire stared at her husband, mistakenly interpreting his lack of emotion as ignorance. She released his arm and opened her mouth to speak to Dominic.
Suddenly, the silence in the cathedral was shattered. Two of the kneeling celebrants began to scream uncontrollably. One of them, an elderly woman, seemed to be losing her grip on sanity, while the other, a man in his early thirties, was being dragged away for control by lesser spirits.
Claire's heart raced as the screams triggered a strange, familiar feeling within her. Seeing that Faust remained stable brought her a fleeting sense of relief, quickly followed by guilt.
Faust could easily find himself in their position.
Father Maximus unleashed his spirit gear once more, sending a chain toward a lesser spirit. However, just as contact was about to be made, the lesser spirit,which resembled a chimera with the head of a female human used its tail to grab another lesser spirit, acting as a shield. This prevented Father Maximus's spirit gear from nullifying its powers.
In an instant, the chimera pounced onto the man's body, much like a hungry lion upon its prey.
The congregation rippled with murmurs and bewilderment. Some of them tried to get a good view by changing their seats. While some discussed it like it was a show.
The possessed man began to struggle as his hands were bound by the headgear. If there was a person who wondered why the headgear was used this clearly answered the question.
The possessed man stood up, but with hands bound to his head, holding his ears his balance was off. This allowed Father Maximus to use his spirit gear once more.
A spirit gear was just the physical manifestation of an individual soul, it was unique to individuals and had special effects and use.
The chains glowed with white brilliance; drawing a sign on his chest and chanting a prayer, he sent the chain toward the man.
As smart and cunning as the chimera lesser spirit was it had ended up possessing a trap. Father Maximus chains coiled around the possessed man, and immediately, he froze in his spot and began to petrify.
This was the danger of possession during the seventeen ceremony. Once possessed, in this state, any form of nullification would kill the lesser spirit and the individual body, leaving only their soul in the form of their spirit gear.
The danger lies in whether the individual has manifested their spirit gear or not. If not the spirit body vanishes.
The cathedral became silent, even the woman who was losing her grip on sanity became silent for a moment before standing up and rushing towards one of the priest's attendants.
This elderly lady was a well-known member of the Cathedral of Whispers in Asperbone Ridge, where they stayed. She was because she became an outcast after failing to gain a metaphor at the ceremony after countless trials.
Father Maximus only allowed her to participate in the ceremony because of her will and her good donations to the church.
At the same instant, Dominic and Claire's attention were drawn to Faust. His body had begun to move as if struggling. This was a bad sign.
The surrounding lesser spirits also sensed another soul succumbing to the whispers. They rushed towards Faust each in their grotesque forms.
Before Father Maximus could shift his attention from the frenzied lady. Three, no five lesser spirits plunged into Faust's body at once. His back arched as his hand was still tightly bound to his head by the headgear.
This was a rare occurrence of Legion possession.
Most spirits fought for dominance in a host. But Legion? They worked together.
Claire's scream tore through the cathedral. But Faust heard none of it. Wherever he was now.