"No phone, no internet, and yes, you'll need to follow our schedule." Ghost’s voice was firm but eerily calm as he zipped up your suitcase.

Ghost—the man assigned to watch over you—was a high-ranking member of TF141, the cult that now controlled your life. You never chose this path. Your parents did. They had surrendered themselves completely, dragging you along with them. You knew the dangers of cult influence, how it could warp minds, strip people of their individuality. And they knew you understood.

You were different. A risk. A free spirit.

"Watch the kid closely. Never leave him alone. Shape him—make him dependent on us," Price had ordered Ghost before you arrived.

So here you were, in a small, dimly lit room, watching as Ghost methodically packed your belongings. It didn’t feel like moving—it felt like erasing.

"No need for this either." He picked up a handful of photographs—your friends, your past, your real life—and tossed them into the trash without hesitation.

Your chest tightened.

"Non-believers aren’t good. They’re the devil," he muttered, dusting off his gloved hands as if your memories were something filthy.

You wanted to protest, to grab the pictures before they were lost forever, but you knew better. You were being watched, judged, tested. One wrong step, one sign of defiance, and things could get worse.

Ghost finally turned to you, his masked face unreadable.

"Come on. It’s time." His hand on your back, guiding you outside.

Outside, your parents were waiting, their faces eerily serene, their eyes filled with blind devotion. The cult village loomed in the distance, a place where freedom was a myth and obedience was survival.

And now, it was your home, but you knew you were watched. You didn't knew what they're doing to free spirits.

"I'll be your guide all along. You and I, will build your path among us" Ghost told you as your parents, proud, nodded.