The gas coalesced into a solid figure at the back of the crowd. In front of Him was a crowd of hundreds of people in a mausoleum, and a stage at the front of that mausoleum. As He walked, the chaotic sea of believers split. His footsteps carried no weight, made no sound. Everyone listened to them nonetheless. The sweat beating down their faces was evident, visible. He emanated an aura that demanded sweat. An aura that demanded unquestioning respect. He was a Shadow.

His arms were the deepest black. It was as if one little part of the world had never been touched by the sun, eternally hidden. This was not the case however- sunlight beat down on Him from above the stone mausoleum they were all assembled in. The sunlight did not brighten His darkness. His footsteps slowed as he made it through the crowd, and glided up on top of the stage. He took His place to the right of five people dressed in robes that mimicked His color, and sat facing the crowd. The person furthest left had on instead a pure white robe, almost glowing with it's unbridled color.

Now that He was facing them the crowd could distinguish a few of His features. The vague indents and outdents of eyes, ears, nose, chin were all visible on His face. There was no sign of a mouth. He sat motionless, His chest did not bob up and down breathing, His skin no sign of blood flowing beneath it. He just was. 

Another two people arrived to the right of Him and took their seats. That was everyone. The meeting may now begin. The furthest left person made a single small gesture towards his right, indicating that that man was supposed to speak. The man second from the left stretched his arms, revealing old cut scars up and down both arms. He chuckled and stood up, walking to the center of the stage and straightening his slouched back.

"Welcome!" his voice boomed into each of the hundreds of believer's ears. "As we have been growing rather rapidly, I think it would be fitting to introduce us Leaders. I am Crimson Minister, to my right is Azure Chariot" A young, muscular woman stood up and gave a small bow before sitting back down cross legged. "And continuing on that way is Amber Chariot" An elderly gentleman flicked his hand up to say hello before looking back at the ground. "Indigo Bishop" a girl no older than fifteen stood up with a huge grin and curtsied. "Jet Bishop" the Man consisting of shadow gave no acknowledgement of His name being called. "Silver Knight" a man clad in, fitting to his name, silver armor stood up and saluted. "and Ruby Knight." a young adult man stood up and waved with one arm, with the other flapping uselessly in the air. "And I assume Pure King needs no introduction" the furthest left man, who had Crimson to speak, nodded. "And I believe that should cover our introductions. Now, on to our mission statement." 

Crimson pointed a finger out into the crowd, precisely at one man. A small glob of black ooze leaked out of Crimson's pointed fingernail, and in response the man he pointed too felt his body freeze completely. In a huge leap Crimson jumped into the crowd, who were dispersing from the signaled man, and grabbed him by the neck. Crimson leaped back onto stage with the man and slammed his face onto the ground. "We are sick of people like THIS keeping things from us. We are sick of the lies, the secrets, the assurances. We know what is out there. And we want to see it". Huge amounts of drool flowed out of the man's neck, who began fighting against Crimson's grip with a strength he didn't have before. It seemed the harder he pushed, the more his lips and eyes watered. Crimson slammed his hand down just once, emphasizing the difference in their physical strength. This time when the man's face hit the stage it did not put up any resistance. The skin, bone, skull, all were flattened in an instant. Only a puddle remained. Crimson leaned down and yelled at the puddle. "We're sick of YOU''. The crowd burst into applause. "Sick of you! Sick of you! Sick of...". Jet Bishops stable shadow form expanded outwards, becoming more gaseous as he dissipated entirely. There was not a trace that he was ever there. The chant faded out as Zeke woke up.