The night was deep and quiet. It was an hour until midnight, and the darkness was absolute, broken only by the cold, distant light of the stars high above the village.
Julie, Aisha, and Skadi approached the massive, silent warehouse. Each of them clutched a steel bucket, full and heavy, which they handled with an almost religious reverence. Their faces, usually composed or assertive, were cast in a veil of shy, embarrassed silence.
Earlier, when they had first retreated behind the stage curtains, a genuine panic had seized them.
They were terrified that Cassius might change his mind—that his relentless mental grip might slip, and that he would send those terrifying tentacles after them.
They wouldn't have been able to fight back in their vulnerable, aroused state.
So, they had silently agreed to flee the immediate area.
They rented three separate rooms at the tavern and spent the last couple of hours in complete, dedicated isolation.
