I look up from my plate and raise an eyebrow at Silas, approaching with a newspaper and a grim expression on his face, Marek in tow.
“Don’t tell me we’ve made the news already? What did he do, call the reporters at 4 AM?”
“It’s not today’s paper, and it’s not local,” Silas explains as they sit down across from me.
I push away my plate to make room for whatever shitshow my brothers are about to unfurl on the table. Still, I don’t think much could have prepared me for the headline.
Connecticut Governor in Battle With Alleged Doomsday Cult
“What’s this?” I ask quietly, though I’m already scanning the article.
“You’ll see,” Marek murmurs enigmatically.
I take a deep breath and start reading from the beginning.
In the wake of personal tragedy and renewed scrutiny of past state failures, Connecticut Governor Thomas Langford has ordered a sweeping investigation into a secretive religious organization known as the Sanctum of Ash, a group rumored to operate on the fringes of legality.
The move comes less than six months after a violent stalking incident targeting the governor’s daughter culminated in the abduction of his wife, Katarzyna Kaminska, a former international supermodel. The suspect, an alleged victim of this group, died while pursuing Langford’s daughter, bringing a brutal end to a case that shocked the state and drew national attention.
According to sources close to the governor’s office, the recent events forced Langford to reexamine a decades-old decision made during his tenure as a U.S. Senator—one he now openly describes as his “greatest professional failure.”
In the early 2000s, Langford was briefed on an incident involving several children found wandering in rural Connecticut. At the time, the case was presented to him as the aftermath of a methamphetamine lab explosion that had left the children orphaned. The matter was quietly closed.
“It was a lie,” Langford said in a statement released Tuesday. “And I accepted it without pushing hard enough.”
Subsequent evidence now suggests the children were not victims of a drug-related accident, but survivors of a doomsday religious cult operating under the name Sanctum of Ash. Former members have since alleged years of physical, psychological,and spiritual abuse carried out by men known internally as “Prophets.”
Despite repeated complaints and fragmented reports over the years, investigations into the group stalled or were abruptly redirected. Sources within law enforcement indicate the Sanctum of Ash may have benefited from unusual protection, with ties extending into influential political, financial, and religious circles.
Governor Langford has confirmed that his office is now working directly with the FBI, reopening cold cases and seeking to identify and apprehend the remaining Prophets, several of whom are believed to be living under assumed identities across multiple states.
“This isn’t about vengeance,” Langford said. “It’s about accountability. For the victims. For the children we failed. And for the truth that was buried.”
Federal officials declined to comment on the scope of the investigation but confirmed that it remains ongoing.
“Fuck,” I hiss, crumpling up the newspaper. “The last thing we need is the Feds sniffing around while we…”
“Hunt?” Silas suggests with a smirk.
“Not funny,” I grumble, then smooth out the paper to scan the article again. “Who was this alleged victim?”
“It’s unlikely we’d know him,” Marek says, his eyes on a pigeon feasting on stray breadcrumbs. “If this were a commune in Connecticut, we wouldn’t have crossed paths as children.”
“True,” I admit grudgingly. “But why the fuck would he go after random women and not the bastards who fucked with us for a decade and a half?”
“Doubt he was right in the head,” Silas says, tapping hisfingers rhythmically against the rickety table. “I mean, are we?” he adds bitterly.
“We don’t go after the innocent,” Marek says matter-of-factly.
He’s right. Sometimes we roll out of town covered in blood and gore, but it’s always the Prophets who suffer.
“Let’s see what happens,” I say after a moment of silence. “Tell the others. Keep your eyes peeled for anyone sticking their noses into our business. We didn’t come this far to be stopped before we finish our mission.”
4
JULES
Carnival day two. Last night was a bust—the ringmaster disappeared into the crowd before I could see where he was going. But some poking around the corner closest to the forest proved fruitful. I found housing trailers and what looked like a pop-up cantina, fenced off from the rest of the carnival. Now I just need to find a way through without being spotted.
