Lance felt the bile rise in his throat. His stomach hurt. A bitter taste tainted his mouth. The Master noticed Lance’s condition. "It would not be very wise to vomit on my rug." Lance regained control, leaving him dazed and terribly shaken. "W-w-what did y-you say?" The Master heard some scuttling in the background. "Ahem, do you have a decent excuse for your interruption?" He demanded sharply. Sparrow quietly appeared at the doorway. "Master, I realize you generally prefer to do the preparations for the ceremony, but would it be alright if I did the honors?" The entity almost responded, but Sparrow held up her hand. "After all, you need to check on JC in the Fear Chamber," she injected quickly. He frowned. "Perhaps you’re right. See to it that the job is done well." He grinned mockingly at Lance. "Don’t wander too far." Lance bit his lip to keep from crying. It can’t be true! He can’t steal my body and soul like that! "Yes, he can," Sparrow replied stoically. Lance squeezed the arms of the chair. "No! NO! NO! NOOOO!" Sparrow slapped him across the face so hard his eyes rolled to the back of his head. "Stop that infernal screaming!" Lance rubbed his sore cheek. "Why me?" He choked. "Why do I deserve this? I’ll never see my parents again, never sing on stage again, never marry or have kids…" Her eyes averted to the floor. "I’m not sure," she lied. Lance pulled his legs up on the chair and hugged his knees. He whispered, "Liar." What’s the point in keeping a secret? Sparrow thought. He may as well hear the truth. "Fine. Of course once you hear the story, the master will most certainly kill you." "According to him, I’m already dead." "Lance, it seems you have quite a family history. Your ancestors on your father’s side moved to Mississippi nearly 150 years ago, and before that lived in various parts of New England. Back in 1701, in the early age of the Puritans, a town called Celtic River was established. One of its most prominent citizens was named Kaden James Bass." Lance’s mouth dropped open. "Kaden James Bass?" "1701 was the year the Master infiltrated Celtic River. Kaden Bass was 22 years old. He had a wife, Nalani, and a 5-year-old daughter, Tara. While the rest of the villagers accepted the Master as one of the townspeople, Kaden took an instant disliking to him. He realized something about the Master was suspicious, and his intentions didn’t withhold goodness. At a slow rate, villagers began to disappear. Strange creatures roamed the woods at night, resulting in several horrible deaths. Kaden grew increasingly afraid for his family. Then, one evening, Kaden and his daughter went riding on their horses into the forest. It was supposed to be fun. It ended in tragedy. Kaden suddenly heard Tara screaming, some animal howls, and the horse going wild. By the time he raced to save his little girl, she was dead. A Lost Soul tore her to pieces. Kaden wrestled with the animal and eventually killed it with his hunting knife. When the dead Lost Soul mutated to its human form, Kaden was devastated to discover it was Nalani. He’d lost his whole family in a single night. Furious and heartbroken, Kaden stormed into the Master’s house, certain he was somehow behind the Celtic River murders. When Kaden confronted him, the Master attempted to kill Kaden in order to keep his mouth shut. Unfortunately, he didn’t realize Kaden was skilled in fighting evil demons…" Lance cut her off. "How?" Sparrow sighed. "As you learned in school, the early Puritans were extremely religious. A few churches formed secret societies trained to protect the people from evil spirits. The Master thought he’d already converted Celtic’s society members, but he accidentally overlooked Mr. Bass. There was a struggle, and some time around midnight, Kaden drove the Master out of their village, preventing him from taking full possession." Lance frowned. "How did my ancestor accomplish that?" Sparrow shrugged. "He never told us. Too angry and humiliated I guess. Anyway, before the spirit left, he made a promise. He said: ‘You will pay for this. You and your children and your children’s children. Someday, I will possess one of your kin. His blood will become my blood. The goodness of his soul drained for all eternity.’ This frightened Kaden so much he fled Celtic River, remarried, and remained paranoid until his death in 1736. His son, Luke, never believed the curse, so he never bothered to pass the warning from generation to generation." Lance was totally speechless. "So that’s why he chose me," he muttered disbelievingly. Sparrow nodded. "300 years ago, the Master made a deadly promise. Tonight, he will fulfill it."