The Horrors of Indoctrination

Chapter 12 : Sacrifices in the Name of Power

Chapter 12 : Sacrifices in the Name of Power



In an instant, Ndungu’s strong hands shot out, grabbing Wanjohi by the throat and slamming him against the tall iron gate. Mumbi screamed in fear as Wanjohi’s feet left the ground, Ndungu’s thick fingers squeezing his windpipe.

“Ndungu, stop!” Karanja shouted, hurrying over from the church entrance. “He’s just a foolish boy. He meant no harm. Let him go and I’ll make sure they leave peacefully.”

For a tense moment, Ndungu seemed to think about Karanja’s words. Then he sneered and snorted disdainfully. “You’re getting soft, Karanja. The Prophet’s word is law all rule-breakers must face punishment.” Wanjohi’s vision blurred as Ndungu’s grip tightened. He kicked out desperately, hitting Ndungu’s stomach, but it had no effect. Black spots danced before Wanjohi’s eyes as he struggled for air." Ndungu, enough!" Karanja moved closer, his stance threatening. “These are just children. I won’t let you harm them unnecessarily.” With a growl, Ndungu released Wanjohi, who fell to the ground, gasping for breath. As Wanjohi coughed and struggled to breathe, Ndungu glared at Karanja. “You’re making a big mistake. The Prophet will hear of your defiance.”

“Let him hear it from me then,” Karanja replied firmly. “What you were about to do is simply wrong.

Punishing the curious with deadly force? I won’t allow it.” Ndungu’s face twisted with rage, and for a moment, Wanja feared the two men would fight. But then Ndungu controlled himself with effort. He pointed an accusing finger at Wanjohi, who was kneeling and still wheezing. “That brat tried to interfere with my duty,” Ndungu said, his voice shaking with anger. “By the ancient laws, he has committed a serious crime and must be punished.” Mumbi felt icy fear grip her heart as she realized what Ndungu meant. Trembling, she hurried to Wanjohi’s side, helping him stand and supporting his weight.

“Please...he’s just a boy,” she begged Ndungu. “He didn’t mean any harm. We’ll leave and never try this again, I swear!”

“Your promise means nothing,” Ndungu spat. “Only the Prophet’s word matters. His judgment cannot be denied.” To Mumbi’s horror, Ndungu reached for the curved blade at his hip. She opened her mouth to beg again, but Wanjohi grabbed her arm tightly. “Run!” he mouthed silently, his eyes filled with terror and determination.

With a burst of strength, Wanjohi rammed his shoulder into Ndungu’s stomach. Caught off-guard, the big man staggered back. “No!” Wanja shouted back at Wanjohi. She then grabbed a piece of broken rock from the ground and threw it as hard as she could at Ndungu’s head. The rock hit Ndungu squarely on the temple with a sickening sound. His eyes rolled back as he collapsed to the ground, dropping the cruel blade from his hand. Mumbi and Wanjohi stood in shock for a moment, breathing heavily, barely able to believe they had knocked down the big man.

But they knew Ndungu would wake up soon and raise the alarm. Their escape would be pointless if they didn’t act quickly.

“Karanja!” Mumbi called desperately to the old guard who had helped them escape earlier. “Please, you have to help us! If Ndungu wakes up, he’ll have us killed for sure. You don’t want us to be the next victims of Mwangi’s rituals.” Karanja’s face was unreadable in the dim moonlight for a long moment. Then, he gave a slight, grim nod.

“Quickly then,” he said in his deep voice. “We must tie up Ndungu before he wakes up. And find a safe place to hide him until we figure this out.” They worked fast, tying Ndungu’s wrists and ankles with a rope Karanja had retrieved from the store, and gagging him with a cloth.

Once they were sure he couldn’t move or shout, Karanja lifted the unconscious man onto his broad shoulders with a grunt. “Mary will definitely have room for us. And it’s not far from here,” he said shortly. “We can take him there until we decide what to do next.”

Mumbi and Wanjohi exchanged worried looks but said nothing. They had to trust that Mary would help them, because their lives depended on it. The small group hurried away into the night, leaving the church grounds and the scene of their struggle behind.

Mumbi shivered and held her arms tighter against the cold. It had been a long night. She felt that this had changed their situation for the worse. After what felt like a forever tense silence, they arrived at a small house at the edge of the village. Karanja knocked in a coded pattern on the door. After a moment, the door opened a c***k, a cautious eye looking out.

The door swung wide as the person recognized Karanja, revealing a stout, middle-aged woman with gray hair and a lined face. “What is the meaning?” Mary’s eyes went wide when she saw Ndungu unconscious and tied up on Karanja’s shoulders.

“Good heavens! What’s happened?”

“No time to explain now,” Karanja said roughly, pushing past her into the house. “We need to hide him where no one can see him until we decide what to do.” Mary looked like she wanted to argue, but she thought better of it. With a serious nod, she led them past her living area.

“In here then,” she said, opening the wooden door to reveal her inner room. “But I want answers soon about what trouble you’re in now.”

Mumbi was shivering, more from fear than the cold. Even before they could figure out what to do about Mwangi’s crazy hold on the village, they had created another bigger problem for themselves. If Sheri’s possessed form was going to spare their lives, then k********g Ndungu would surely be their end.

It had been hours since Wanja’s daughter, Mumbi, had gone missing after slipping away unnoticed during an argument between Wanja and her husband, Kamau, about the church. Desperate searches around their home had turned up nothing, leaving Wanja terrified that Mumbi might be in danger. But she had an idea where she might have gone.

Wanja knocked urgently on Mary’s door, hoping her friend might have answers. After a tense moment, Mary opened the door with a worried expression. “Thank god you’re here,” Mary said, quickly bringing Wanja inside.

“Wait, were you expecting me?” “It’s hard to explain, but we need your help with this mess.” Wanja then saw Ndungu lying tied up in the corner after Mary ushered her into her inner room. The shock turned to anger.

“What have you gotten yourselves into?” she demanded.

Mary explained how Wanjohi and Mumbi had snuck into the church and ran into Ndungu. When he threatened to kill them for their “curiosity,” they had to do something. Karanja helped subdue him to let the youth escape. “But we couldn’t just let him go,” Wanjohi said grimly. “He’d have brought terrible revenge on us from that crazy Prophet.”

Just then, Mumbi woke up from her slumber. When she saw her mother, Mumbi ran into Wanja’s arms.

“Mama! You came for us!” Mumbi cried in relief. Wanja hugged her daughter tightly, looking at Wanjohi with both anger and concern.

“What were you thinking?” she asked. “Do you know the danger you’ve put us in?” Wanjohi lifted his chin defiantly. “We had to see what goes on in the church at night,” he said. “And what we saw during the rituals... Mama, it was horrible!”

Ndungu groaned as he started to wake up. Karanja quickly gagged him and held him down.

“He’s waking up,” Karanja said. “We need to decide what to do with him before he alerts anyone.”

Wanja looked at her frightened child, then at Mary and Karanja’s determined faces, and finally at the stirring Ndungu. Her lifelong fear of the Prophet’s cult had turned into a cold nightmare.

“You’re right,” she said. “We can’t let him go, not after what he tried to do. Not after what my child saw in that church.”

Mumbi trembled in her arms, looking fearfully at Ndungu.

“He was going to kill Wanjohi, Mama. He said the laws were absolute, and any rule-breakers had to be punished.”

Rage surged in Wanja at the thought of this man killing her child for twisted reasons. She met Karanja’s eyes, seeing the same resolve. They were all trapped in this together.

Wanja stared at her best friend’s face as if expecting direction from her. Mary sighed heavily and ran a tired hand over her face. The weight of their situation was clear on her shoulders.

“Well, we can’t let Ndungu go now after what he tried to do to the children. And especially after what they saw at that cursed church.”

Wanja nodded seriously. “You’re right. I hate involving more innocents, but we might need him to stay with you for a while until we can plan to leave the village entirely.” Karanja frowned deeply. “Leaving won’t be easy. The Prophet’s influence extends far beyond this village. His cult is everywhere.” “Then we’ll need to cut his reach bit by bit if we have to,” Wanja said firmly. “Because staying is no longer an option, not after what we know now.”

Mumbi had been quietly listening to the adults’ conversation. Now she tugged urgently on her mother’s worn shawl. “Mama? I need to tell you something about Sheri,” Mumbi stated, but she couldn’t continue. She knew just how much her sister’s condition worried Wanja.

“The rituals...” Wanjohi spoke up gravely, with a haunted look in his eyes. “They did something to Sheri, brought some... dark forces to possess her, I think. Mumbi and I, we saw...” He trailed off, unable or unwilling to describe the Prophet’s actions.

Mumbi just shuddered silently and clung tighter to her mother. Wanja felt sick. Although she always had her suspicions, to have her fears confirmed was heartbreaking. To think of her sweet Sheri being tainted and shattered by those evil rites made her heart feel like it might stop.

She looked urgently at Mary. “What can we do? We have to help her find a way to bring her back from whatever darkness they’ve thrown her into!”

Mary’s expression was grave, filled with fear and uncertainty.

“I’m not sure. Sheri’s condition seems beyond any remedies I know. We may need to seek wiser counsel than mine.”

Karanja frowned again, an idea forming.

“You see, it is believed that any powers or entities summoned are tied to the life force and will of the summoner. So, if the person who originally summoned a demon or evil spirit dies, then:

The summoned entity may lose much of its power and influence in the physical world without the conduit of the summoner’s will and energy. The binding or control over the entity could be broken upon the summoner’s death, potentially allowing it to roam free and unrestrained. Lastly, any curses, possessions, or influence the demon had would be expected to dissipate since the original channel and source of invocation is gone!”

Mary protested. “Are you saying we should kill Mwangi? The journey would be very dangerous with all the Prophet’s informants and elders around him 24/7.”

“Do you think I care about danger right now?” Wanja interjected fiercely. “Not when my daughter’s soul is at stake!”

But Kamau continued, “We should bear in mind that very powerful demons or elaborate rituals can create a permanent window or portal that allows entities to maintain a foothold in the physical realm even after the summoner perishes. That means, if whatever force possessing Sheri is stronger than ordinary, then she might not be free even after we kill Mwangi.”

Wanja looked between them all, fear and determination in her eyes. “Whatever it takes, whatever we need to do, let’s do it… either way, we lose anyway, so let’s just try. You all know that I’ll pay any price to see Sheri whole and free from this nightmare.”

Once more, the group exchanged heavy glances in Mary’s inner room. Outside, the first rays of dawn began to enter through spaces between the iron roof and the mud walls.

The next morning, the group in Mary’s small home felt heavy fatigue from the night before. One by one, they had fallen into restless sleep as dawn began to break. Wanja was the first to wake up, her eyes burning from lack of sleep.

Blinking, she looked around. Mumbi and Wanjohi were tangled together on a reed mat, Karanja was leaning against the wall keeping watch over the still-tied Ndungu, and Mary was dozing in a rocking chair, a shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

A faint noise from outside caught Wanja’s attention. It was a rhythmic knocking. Her heart skipped a beat. She felt a mix of anxiety and worry as she stiffly got up to answer the door.

The morning light streamed in as Wanja opened the door, squinting against the brightness. Standing there was Maina, her ten-year-old son. His face showed both worry and anger. “Mama!” he whispered urgently. “Papa sent me to find you. He said you and Mumbi didn’t come home last night, and he’s been so scared!”

Wanja felt a twist of guilt, realizing the stress Kamau must be under, left behind not knowing what was happening to his family.

“Shh, Maina,” she hushed him, glancing back to make sure the others were still asleep. “Things are... not okay, but you need to be very quiet and listen to me.” Maina’s eyes widened at his mother’s serious tone, but he nodded.

Wanja pulled him inside and shut the door, taking a deep breath before speaking. “You can’t tell anybody about what you see here today, do you understand?” She looked at him intensely, watching him squirm but nod again.

“This is a secret, and if anyone finds out, it could put us all in danger.” Fear showed on Maina’s face, but he stood firm.

“I understand, Mama. I won’t say anything that could endanger us.”

“Good boy,” Wanja said.

She was about to explain more when a thump came from the bedroom, followed by a muffled groan from their bound captive.

Maina’s eyes widened in fear as he realized they weren’t alone. “Mama, what?”

“It’s alright, it’s alright!” Wanja interrupted quickly.

Of course, the noise would attract Maina’s curiosity. “Just don’t go into that room, and don’t ask too many questions for now. Things are very delicate.”

Maina swallowed hard but stayed calm, watching as Karanja went in and out of the bedroom to deal with the prisoner.

Mary then woke up, blinking the sleep from her eyes. “Wanja? What’s going on?” Mary frowned when she saw Maina.

“You should be careful about who you are involved in this.”

“I am being careful,” Wanja replied, hugging her son tightly, both to reassure him and warn him.

“But I might need Maina’s bravery and silence before this is over. He’s no longer just a child, not after everything that has been happening to us.”

This serious statement seemed to hang in the air, changing everything. Wanja felt a crucial shift, as if their entire family was being swept along by a powerful tide.

After Maina’s startling arrival that morning, Wanja knew they couldn’t stay at Mary’s house any longer.

She wanted to stay and plan with her friends, but the risk of being found grew with each passing hour.

“We should go back to our own homes for now,” she said quietly to Mumbi, Wanjohi, and Maina. “Act normal until we figure out what to do next.”

The children exchanged worried looks but nodded in agreement. They all wanted to leave this village immediately, but they knew it was smarter to wait.

“What about him?” Wanjohi asked, glancing at the closed bedroom door where Ndungu was tied up.

“Mary and Karanja will watch him,” Wanja replied, giving her friend a meaningful look. “We can’t risk moving him and attracting attention right now.”

With many cautious glances over their shoulders, the small group slipped out of Mary’s house and hurried back through the quiet village streets to their homes.

Wanja’s heart pounded harder with every step, imagining the elders’ eyes watching them. When they reached the small house she shared with Kamau and the children, Wanja quickly ushered them inside before looking out at the waking village.

Her husband sat on an overturned crate out front, his head in his hands in deep despair. Taking a steady breath, Wanja cracked open the small gate and called softly, “Kamau? It’s me... we’re alright.”

Kamau’s head snapped up, his eyes wide and frantic until they saw her. He jumped up and crossed the distance between them in two strides.

“Thank God!” Kamau rasped, his voice thick with emotion. “I feared the worst when you and Mumbi didn’t come back last night. Where have you been?”

Over her husband’s shoulder, Wanja met Mumbi’s gaze, silently asking her to stay quiet about their ordeal for now. Mumbi seemed to understand and simply hugged close to Maina’s side, worryingly silent.

“It’s a long and difficult story,” Wanja said carefully, stepping back from Kamau’s face.

“Once I must share with you, no matter how much I wish I could spare you.” Kamau looked at her intently, understanding the seriousness in her tone.

“Something happened last night, something we can’t ignore anymore.” She quickly and urgently told him how Wanjohi and Mumbi had sneaked into the church to see Prophet Mwangi’s evil rituals for themselves.

They had seen things proving that Mwangi wasn’t the kind, holy man they thought, but the leader of a cult. Kamau’s face changed from anger to confusion, to horror as Wanja revealed the darkest truth.

Mwangi’s evil rites had somehow let a bad force take over their daughter Sheri’s soul.

“No... no, it can’t be...” Kamau whispered, his face pale. “Not my little Sheri...”

Tears filled Wanja’s eyes as she nodded shakily. “I’m so sorry, my love. I wish I wasn’t telling you the truth. But Wanjohi and Mumbi saw it... and don’t say you’ve not suspected it either. Sheri’s empty state, something evil has taken her essence.”

Kamau stood there for a long moment, fists clenched, shaking as he processed this shocking revelation about the man he had devoted his life to worshiping. Then his eyes hardened with fury.

“That evil monster...” he growled. “I’ll see him burn for what he’s done to my little girl!”

“Kamau, wait!” Wanja cried as he turned to storm into the church. She rushed to block his path, her hands trembling on his chest.

“Baba Maina, please! You can’t just go and challenge him like this! If the Prophet knows we know the truth, he’ll kill us all without mercy!”

But Kamau, blinded by rage, brushed past Wanja with curses and dark promises. She watched helplessly as he walked down the dusty road towards the church, fists and jaw clenched. Wanja started to go after him, to try talking into him again. But a small hand caught her arm, looking up with terror and shaking her head in silent pleading.

“Let him go, Mama,” she said quietly, looking much older than her years. “Before we get even more trapped by the Prophet today.”

It was probably wiser. Wanja could only pray that whatever happened at the church, Kamau wouldn’t die before they found a way to escape this nightmare. She pulled Mumbi and Maina close, watching through tears as Kamau disappeared down the path, possibly walking towards a s*******r they couldn’t stop.

Kamau’s anger drove him down the dusty road to the church at a breakneck speed. His vision narrowed, focusing only on the storm of hatred and pain inside him, thinking about Mwangi’s evil cult stealing his daughter Sheri’s soul. He didn’t slow down as he approached the large church compound. None of the elderly or guards tried to stop him.

Though not as high-ranking as some of Mwangi’s closest followers, Kamau had spent decades serving the cult. Most assumed he was on urgent business and didn’t dare to stop him. With surprising ease, Kamau soon found himself inside the dim, incense-filled church and into the main sanctuary.

There, right in the middle of the altar, the old Prophet Mwangi led some chants.

“Prophet!” Kamau shouted, not caring about proper manners as he stormed towards the evil altar, his face twisted with anger.

“I need to talk to you now! I’ve found terrible truths that can’t be ignored or hidden anymore!” The followers around Mwangi tensed up, some reaching for the sharp ceremonial blades at their waists. But the Prophet lifted one old hand, stopping them with a slight shake of his head.

“Now, now... is that how you speak to your spiritual leader, Kamau?” Mwangi’s thin voice was gentle and fatherly, making Kamau even angrier.

“What could be so important that you interrupt these sacred rites unannounced?”

Kamau opened his mouth to respond angrily, but Mwangi kept speaking in the same mild tone.

“Unless... is it those rumors about some people that sneaked in the church last night? People always want to tarnish the righteous path with their idle talk.”

Kamau’s anger faltered for a moment, thinking Mwangi might already know everything. But remembering Sheri’s empty stare reignited his resolve. He wouldn’t let the Prophet hide the truth this time.

“Stop with the diversions, you wicked fraud!” he spat with venom.

“I know what your vile cult does now. I know the acts you and your followers have done to the innocent, including my own daughter!”

Mwangi blinked calmly as shocked gasps rippled through his face.

“Such harsh accusations, Kamau. It’s almost hurtful that you’d let gossip and superstition turn you against your most loyal shepherd so quickly.”

Refusing to be swayed, Kamau continued his furious accusation.

“Don’t play dumb with me, monster! Your evil rites let some dark force possess my Sheri! She’s now an empty, haunted shell of the lively girl she was!” He took a shaky breath, tears of rage and horror filling his eyes. “I don’t know the full extent of your cult’s evil.

But I swear on my ancestors’ graves, I will not rest until your cult is destroyed. Sheri will be freed, and you will pay for your crimes against the innocent, no matter how many lives it takes!”

For a long moment, the sanctuary was silent except for the faint hissing of the ritual braziers. Kamau could feel every eye in the hall fixed on him. Finally, Mwangi sighed softly, the sound carrying across space.

“You are poor, deluded fool...” The old cult leader shook his head sadly, like a grandfather scolding a child’s tantrum.

“I had such high hopes for you, Kamau. You showed such promise in our righteous path.” Mwangi’s sharp eyes focused on Kamau, turning his anger into a cold, primal fear. In the Prophet’s eyes, Kamau saw a terrible, endless hunger, completely devoid of human compassion or mercy.

“You want to know the truth about your daughter’s... condition?” Mwangi’s thin voice cut through the silence like a sharp whip. “Very well, I will satisfy your ignorant demands of this once before addressing your grave disrespect.”

The cult leader slowly turned into a circle, looking at each of his followers with the same predatory stare before continuing.

“You have been one of my most loyal and obedient servants for many years. Did you really think such devotion would go unrewarded in our grand plan of rebirth?” Mwangi smiled thinly at the confusion mixing with fear on Kamau’s face. Kamau was like clay for the Prophet to shape.

“You see, for our rule to be established over this cursed world, certain... sacrifices were needed. Offerings of the most precious kind. And you, my faithful son, have caught the eye of our great benefactors from beyond.”

Kamau’s eyes widened in horror as he began to understand, breaking through the fog of cult indoctrination. Mwangi smiled again, a cold, reptilian grin. “Yes, that’s it... let the scales finally fall from your eyes! Why did you do this evil to me?” Kamau asked with a trembling voice.

“How do you’re sacrificing your daughter make me evil? Also, does that mean God in the Bible was evil for requesting Jephthah to fulfill his vow by sacrificing his virgin daughter? Your beautiful little Sheri was chosen as a priceless offering, the key to your elevation into our inner circle of power and enlightenment. Can you not see the great honor you were given?”

In the silence that followed, Kamau could only stare wordlessly at the cult leader, torn between revulsion and self-loathing.

Mwangi watched this inner battle with detached curiosity. “Sheri, your firstborn is very special. The beings we summoned to take her as a sacrifice became obsessed with staying in our world. Instead of a simple transfer, your daughter’s soul was twisted into an anchor for our benefactors to enter this realm.” Kamau shook his head in silent denial, gasping for breath as the full extent of his role in the cult’s evil acts hit him. Mwangi remained calm, almost contemplative.

The cult leader looked around at his followers in a silent challenge. “Our path is the only light in this dark world.

The sacrifices we make, no matter how distasteful they may seem in the eyes of men, are justified if they bring about our foretold rise. Who here can see that simple truth?” There was a moment of stillness as every figure in the room weighed the Prophet’s words. Then, one by one, they knelt, holding out their blades and ceremonial tools to Mwangi like offerings. The Prophet smiled approvingly as his followers reaffirmed their loyalty. Kamau, however, collapsed to his knees, silently sobbing in despair over the terrible fate he had willingly brought upon his innocent daughter.