High Priest of Inaray

Zane Peters watched the news with growing anxiety. The Beast below was getting agitated again. That had been happening more and more.

There was a sense of pressure like that of an oncoming headache. He could feel that thick writhing coldness pushing, almost throbbing, against his mind. He'd never thought his mind weak until that thing had turned its attention toward him. Just the mere passing of its immense gaze was enough to cause the frame of his mind to buckle like a steel drum in a science project. In an instant of pressurized pain, his mouth had gone from dry to thick and coppery. He'd also developed a stutter that lasted for days.

More people had died, children again. Pressure eased slightly. The beast liked that. It liked the blood of innocents.

He had more money than he could spend but more would be forthcoming. Rich? Yes, it had made him rich as it had made Houston. From high priest to high priest to this ancient power had raised him up. Better yet, it promised safety in the upcoming Days of Fire.