The seer's consciousness reluctantly returned, greeted by disorientation and pain. A dimly lit space enveloped him, and the coarse stone pavement beneath him tore at his skin. He realized he had been stripped of his shirt, his face bearing the dried traces of blood.
His bleary vision gradually adjusted, revealing the shadowy confines of what seemed to be an underground facility. Stalactites hung ominously amongst an array of jagged rocks. On either side of the stone path along which he was being dragged, hooded figures loomed, their presence foreboding.
His captor, a colossal figure, towed him effortlessly as if he weighed nothing at all.
For a fleeting moment, all movement ceased, as if time itself held its breath. Then, the woman resumed her relentless pull.
In that disorienting instant, the seer recognized that he had been transported to a remote island, the domain of the enigmatic cult. Only in such a secluded place could such an organization thrive.
