The Death God wandered amidst this magnificent city, leaning upon his scythe as he stood in the shadows of the streets, looking coldly upon the scurrying people, waiting for the moment their allotted fate ran dry; then he would raise his scythe and wrench those pitiful souls from their shattered shells, leading the dead together toward that unknown farther shore.
People fled in terror, many of them not even knowing what had happened; they asked all around, yet no one could give an answer. They could only feel the surge of revulsion rising from within, and those bizarre hallucinations ceaselessly flashing through their minds, as though a nightmare was gnawing at the bedrock of reality, seeking to fuse with it, to drag everyone into a horror made real.
"Keep moving! Don't stop!"
The Holy Hall Knight held a torch aloft, directing the evacuation of the crowd; the column stretched into a long line that ran all the way to the end of the city.
