THAT’S IT! CONTINUE ON WITH PART 7 BELOW.
Jesi Saga 7 of 13: Mind Walker, Soul Drinker
[1]Jesi appeared to us the next morning. I prayed he hadn’t noticed me watching his tools in the village, but to my horror, he chose my boat for the next leg of our journey. Mid-morning, he came to me.
I greeted him with a bow and a simple, “My lord.” It was said without true reverence.
He explained that the emotional aura of a worshiper tastes like sweet wine and that being among adoring supplicants was intoxicating. But when he drew near me, he said, he tasted only grief. It was like rancid wine.
“What’s wrong, my child?” Jesi asked. “Why are you so dark around me?”
Staring down at the floor of the boat, I replied, “My lord Jesi, I am in awe of your miracles.”
“Don’t lie to me!” His voice boomed, but his lips did not move. “Your mind is transparent. Do not force me to sully my spirit by reading that wastebin of a mind you carry between your filthy ears.”
I covered my ears, but it didn’t stop the roaring in my head. His words crashed through my mind like a relentless tsunami. For a moment, doubt crept in. Could Jesi be our town god under another name? For that brief moment, I saw him as Poseidon, and I stood in awe of his power.
But it was just a moment.
Jesi’s face broke into a grin, and it seemed that brief second of doubt and awe was enough to appease him.
I chose my next words carefully. “I miss my family greatly. I have never been… separated from them like this before.”
“There’s truth in your words, but you’re holding something back,” Jesi said, smiling with a morbid delight at my trembling. “It seems that High Speech frightens you greatly. I won’t cause you more pain, but come seek my wisdom when you’re ready.”
He started to turn back to his shaded bench when he spotted my leather diary. Plucking it from my satchel, he flipped it open to where my cloth bookmark saved my place. His smile warmed as he examined my sketch of the man he healed at the village.
“Your sketch is remarkable,” he said, his tone lighter now. “Artistic expression is the greatest form of worship. Capturing my handiwork shows your appreciation of me.” He handed back my diary. “I hope your sorrow eases. Right now, it is like lemonade without sweetener. In the meantime, continue bearing witness to the miracles I bestow upon the worthy, and record my judgment against the unrighteous.”
With that, Jesi turned and walked back to his bench.
I exhaled in relief and returned to my shipboard duties.
[1] Diary of Miracles (Jesi Saga)
This story is part of a collection of narrative entries, eyewitness records, and sacred illustrations documenting the rise and fall of the false god known as Jesi. This account spans many pages and includes artistic depictions and individual miracle stories recorded by a witness whose voice grows ever more strained under the weight of truth.
This story is part of one continuous chronicle. Treat each section as a chapter within the same diary. Each page is part of a fragmented gospel of a false messiah, exposed through the steady hand of one who dared to witness.
As you read, keep in mind that this is not a story of salvation. It is a cautionary record, and like all cautionary tales, its lesson may arrive only after it’s too late.
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