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"Your deity, or at least his bishops, seek to conquer and enslave all living beings including you and the people of Atlantis. To take away the gift of free will is a sin and therefore unacceptable. You and other followers are merely tools to them, pawns in their grand scheme. Do you not understand?"
"Wickedness...? Slavery...?""Tell me who your Lord is and what he wants, because we have reason to believe that this Temple has been corrupted by wickedness. Maybe that should be enough to change your mind."
For a moment, the soul went quiet. One could almost sense...confusion, coming from the ethereal remains of the zealot, as if told something both unpleasant and unbelievable. It disappeared as quickly as it emerged, dismissed and rejected.
"No. Enough. ENOUGH! I grow tired of the lies and deceits of non-believers. My time in the mortal coil has come to an end, your powers can only keep him from me for so long..." As if on command, a fearsome burst of light illuminated the island, obscuring the soul from view. When it died down...it had vanished, disappearing into the ether—presumably claimed by the god he had so fiercely served.