Lara had traced the stolen artifact to a cult that met deep in this forest. She followed a member, and hid in a nearby tree to watch the meeting, planning to follow the leader home and nab the artifact back.
But as she watched, her eye kept being drawn to the large and rather gaudy jewel at the head of the cult leader’s staff. Every time she tried to look away, it flashed in the firelight. It was so tiring trying to look away, and the cultists obediently chanting in unison didn’t help. The leader’s voice was so powerful, too–deep and low, a calm, measured voice that seemed to tug her down, down, down…
By the time she woke, it was morning. The Leader stood at the base of the tree, looking up at her expectantly. She would still be following him home, just for a different reason now…
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