This is, as you might suspect, almost done.
In the end, it came down to how I could suddenly feel people dying. And since I wasn’t the one killing them that meant that the mage was. Old Lou tried to yell something at me as I barreled down the hallway to the room where the dying was happening, but I didn’t listen to him and I didn’t care. It wasn’t my fault those people were dying but I couldn’t just let it happen, right?
Old Lou could never figure that out, you know. He understands enlightened self-interest, but trying to do the right thing? I’m sure he could understand it; he just refuses to. I’ve met some awful creatures in my time, but there’s something uniquely horrible about the entity who shares a head with me.
As I said, Old Lou clearly objected to my sudden bout of heroism; I paid it as much heed as I did the barricade on the door. Another few drops of control – I was really pushing it at this point – and the door went flying inward. I hoped it didn’t hit anybody who didn’t deserve it.
The scene inside was simultaneously worse than I expected and better than I hoped. The kid that I was looking for was there, and still alive, and clearly a prisoner instead of a cultist. That would have been awkward, if he had been turned. There were even a couple of other poor wretches there with him.
The problem was that he had a knife to his throat, and it was the mage holding the blade.