The dark room was barely lit, with the only source of light coming from several carefully arranged candles scattered about the room. In the dim light, a number of figures could be seen, kneeling before a modest altar, where a massive runic M stood like a watchful parent over the parish of kneeling worshipers. As they folded their hands in prayer, a loose pale blue fog fluttered about the room, enveloping the followers of the Myst as an eerie rang throughout the open area.

Before the parish stood the prophet himself, Mystica, standing with his arms open. His calm, reassuring voice echoed over the ohm chants of his followers in a thick Scouse accent.

"Be at peace, my loves," he said, looking over the group kneeling before him with a small smile adorning his lips. "Wednesday night beckons your Prophet forward into a land of madness. Two non-believers will seek to overcome His word, His majesty. It is with your prayers that He may emerge from the fog of war, and replace said fog with a rising Myst."

There came a chorus of "amen" from the flock, as they all bowed their heads before the Prophet, clad in his priestly attire, pressed clean and glowing white in comparison to the darkness of the room.

"So let it be that you envelop Mystica with your faith. Who will step forward?"

There came a silence from the group as they shuddered with apprehension. Finally, one girl, not much older than a teen, raised her hand and rose to her feet as Mystica beckoned her forward. As she approached the altar, her thin legs shaking in anticipation, Mystica reached into a satchel at his side, withdrawing a handful of a strange light blue powder.

"Let us see if your faith gives you the strength Mystica so lovingly wishes to bestow."

In a flash, Mystica blew the powder from his hand into the girl's awkward face. She took a deep breath, inhaling the cloud surrounding her head.

"Do you feel it, my sister?" the Prophet asked eagerly.

"I feel...something...some...th--"

But she could not finish her words before her knees buckled. She collapsed in a heap before the mighty Mystica, overwhelmed by the powder.

"Ah," Mystica sighed, looking down at the girl's unresponsive body. "It is clear this one has not felt His embrace."

Looking to the two parishoners to his immediate right, he nodded, and the two wordlessly raised their white hoods over their heads and stood. In silence, aside from the ohm reverberating off the walls, the two followers scooped the girl up by her arms and legs and took her away into the darkness. Not an eye in the crowd moved to watch. They all knew what happened to those that could not accept His gift. Undeterred, Mystica turned back to his flock.

"Let this not deter you from your prayers. Mystica shall require strength to send me, his Prophet forward into glorious victory."

He turned to his left, retrieving an incredibly thick book, its cover adorned only with the same runic M that hung above the flock. He flipped it open to a random page and read aloud.

"I leave you this evening with a passage from Martin 3:59 -- "...and the non-believers fell before the advance of the Myst, as their lungs were filled with the knowledge of his divine word." Let this be your beckoning, my children, my brothers and sisters. Keep your Prophet in your prayers, for he loves you, and how you love him. Let your love guide him into showing two lost souls into the Myst. Good night."

In a sudden flash of light, he vanished, and the followers were left only with his echoing "good night" as they returned to their chorus of

"Ohhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmyst..."

Achievements

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• August 2013 Superstar of the Month (Thank you all so much!)
  
• 1x US Champion
  
• 1x X-treme Champion