It had to be the voice of the spirit, projected telepathically into my mind, violently sweeping aside my own inner voice with its power and force. I cringed, wondering what the frag we’d gotten ourselves into. I figured we could handle the cultists—my Savalette Guardian could pump out rounds faster than they could cast spells, and we’d have surprise on our side—but bullets would have no effect at all on the spirit itself. I could only pray that the thing was too far away to read my thoughts.