“Daemon-stone is as dangerous as it is. . . alluring. It is easy to mine, easy to craft, easy to build upon. The better to lure mortals to their doom." – Dominus Marius, God of War and Engineering

  Annabelle placed her hand on Giani’s side, muttering a spell as her eyes glowed faintly. Neither the bite marks on his neck nor the bolt wound on his side would heal.

  “Nothing,” she grumbled. She rummaged throughout the apothecary, scrolling through recipes, remedies, and anything to help. But there was nothing. Petro and Martin were there, also searching for anything useful, to no avail.

  “I’m sorry,” said Etheros. “It appears I could only remove the daemon’s hunger. I can’t restore your body.”

  “There’s nothing else we can do?” said Luna, leaning onto Giani, Stello by her side always. Her eyes were watery. Leo cringed and looked away.

  Giani sighed. “It is what it is. You’ve already done so much. I can see why the daemons wanted you dead.”

  Etheros leaned in. “Do you remember anything?”

  Giani squinted. “Vaguely, it’s like a dream of a dream. There was only the hunger, the desire to eat flesh, to spread my curse.” He pointed at Leo and the others. “Then you entered the town, and a new compulsion overtook me. Destroy them, destroy these six strangers, destroy the leg.”

  Leo and Etheros looked at each other.

  Petro nodded and said, “It makes sense. Ghouls are subservient to daemonic will. No doubt it would be the same for the undead.”

  “Until now, you mean,” murmured Luna.

  “What does it mean to destroy the leg?” rasped Giani. “Why did it want us to kill you? Who are you people anyways?”

  Etheros moved forward. “Ah yes, we never properly introduced ourselves. I am Etheros of Yanneros.” He gestured to the others. “This is Leo, Elizabeth, Martin, Annabelle of Tressviae, and Petro, the Benelim. We were traveling through on a mission of great importance.”

  Giani tried to chuckle, but it only came out as a choking gasp. “It’s remarkable, the nobili hid away, so it took six strangers to save our city.”

  “As for the leg.” Leo procured the sack and pulled out the dread-wasp leg. He pointed at the mysterious daemon brand.

  Etheros grabbed it and examined it. “Interesting.”

  “What will we do about the undead?” asked Luna. “Are we just going to leave them like this?”

  Giani laid a hand on Luna’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Luna. It is what it is.”

  “But you’re just going to rot away.”

  Elizabeth stood forward; her usual stern facade was absent, and her eyes and voice turned soft. “Look, child, you have something I . . . no one else thought was even possible. Most people would kill to have the chance you have. For the moment, you have your love back. Don’t squander it; enjoy the time you have left.”

  The others nodded. Luna sighed and said, “Alright, but what will they do right now?”

  “What does Giani want to do?” asked Etheros.

  Giani was silent for a moment. “I want to make it right. The city is in shambles. I want to rebuild what we destroyed. I’m sure I could convince the others.”

  Annabelle’s eyebrow raised. “How? You’re still dead.”

  “I’m not tired,” Giani said, glancing at a barrel. He walked over to it and picked it up. His arms were shaking, but he seemingly had no issue moving them around. “I think I’ll be able to manage. Besides, it’s the least I can do to make up for everything.”

  “We need a bigger area to base out of,” noted Leo. “There’s a whole city worth of people, dead and living, that need to be looked after.”

  “What about the temple sanctum?” offered Annabelle.

  Luna nodded. “That’s a good idea. We can raise tents and supplies and give people a place to rest while the undead rebuild.” Luna paused and turned to Giani. “I think we need a better word than undead.”

  Giani nodded and said, “I agree. How about hungerless? Because not only am I not tired, I’m not hungry either. It would show the world that the daemonic hunger has left us.”

  Luna grinned. “Perfect.”

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Yes, this is all well and good, but are we sure Giani can convince the others to assist with the rebuilding.”

  “Trust me, we all have a common bond,” murmured Giani. “We were all violated by those daemons. I can feel it, a shared trauma. They’ll agree.”

  “Besides,” said Etheros as he lifted the dread-wasp leg. “I want to run some experiments on this, and the temple sanctum might be able to help with that.”

  ………………………..

  “So I was thinking we turn the main sanctuary into a refugee camp for the living,” said Luna. “Then we’ll use the courtyard and square for the dead. That way, there’s a barrier that makes it easier for the two groups to stay separated and not get in each other’s way.” Luna’s glowing eye flickered. “People are going to be understandably cautious for a while. This makes it easier to work with ’til then.”

  Etheros nodded. “I think that’s a solid plan.”

  Their footsteps echoed throughout the empty temple sanctum. It looked as dirty and ruined as everywhere else. There were statues and offering bowls broken into pieces. Glass shards from ravaged mosaics littered the ground. Blood stained the floor and walls around chunks of marble and stone. A great hole in the dome bled sunlight, illuminating the dusty, cloudy air.

  “What sacrilege,” said Martin.

  “It’ll take years to repair,” muttered Leo.

  Etheros grinned. “You keep forgetting who I am. Allow me.” His glowing eyes flared as he began to chant. He raised his arms. The whole building began to shake. The statues propped themselves up, the cracks healing like flesh. The blood stains disappeared, and the glass shards flung back into the walls and windows. Finally, the gash in the dome closed itself, the room darkening. Torches lit themselves, restoring light to the building.

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  Everyone’s jaw dropped.

  The temple sanctum was restored, and color and beauty entered the room like a long-lost friend. Leo looked around. It made the temple in Tressviae look tiny.

  What first caught his attention were the statues. They were tall, at least ten feet, maybe more. There were two on each side and two at the end at the altar. On the right were statues of Venatus, Lord of the Hunt, and Amare, Lady of Love. The mosaics were vibrant.

  Around Venatus’ statue, a mosaic depicted a fearsome battle between the Hunter God and the monstrous daemon-wolf Cerberus. His bow was outstretched, and arrows pierced the daemon’s hide. It was truly hideous and unnatural, with six legs and four tails. It was larger than a normal wolf and had dark spots like a leopard. A later event showed the charred body of the daemon lord. The woods were burning, but Venatus slew the daemon at the cost of his hand.

  Leo was no artist, but even he could recognize the colored earthy splendor of the deity and raw, primal darkness of the daemon, although it was nowhere near as frighting as the real deal. The mosaic shifted into a great field of golden grains where Amare stood, arms out, her fingers brushing against the wheat, ensuring their vibrance. The temple chose to embody her aspect of fertility instead of love. Leo had seen other temples that took a lewder approach.

  Their statues reflected the mosaics. Venatus was a great, intense, gruff hunter with a bow strapped to his back and his trademark missing hand. Amare was a woman of graceful splendor. Her wings were absent, though. Probably so the statue could fit inside the temple. Leo wondered if the Goddess took issue with that.

  Across the aisle were statues and mosaics for Aquarius, Lord of the Sea, and Caelus, Lord of the Heavens. The former depicted a man sleeping at the bottom of the ocean, of which a larger version of himself, made of water, burst through the surface. This gave way to the skies, where the Lord of the Heavens soared on great wings. He was about to pin down the dark god Mendax, Lord of Seduction, curse his name. He was in his serpentine form, of course. In the background, Amare could be seen, too, with great wings, just out of reach of her vile former husband.

  Their respective statues also gave way to their demeanor. Aquarius had a supremely gentle look as if he was at true peace. This contrasted with the stern and vigilant facade of Caelus. Eyes narrowed like a bird of prey. As a God who surveys the skies, his is not of resting and comfort but of constant surveying and squabbles.

  Next to each of these statues was a small stone structure that looked like a cross between a box and a fountain. Offerings were made there, objects symbolic and representative of what the respective Gods stood for. There were slots where a person could place their hands in communion.

  The two most enormous statues were by the altar. They beheld Omnitus and Terra, the greatest of the Gods. They appeared strong and fair in their middle years. They wore long robes and extraordinary headdresses, faces stoic. They held hands and beheld the other outstretched. By their feet was a giant offering box.

  Luna was breathless. “Incredible.”

  Etheros was serene. “As much as I disagree with my sacerdozio brethren, they certainly know how to respect and revere the Gods.”

  Martin nodded. “I agree.” He strode toward the statue of Terra. Bending down onto one knee, he placed his hands in the slot. “Oh, mighty Domina Terra, our Great Mother, forgive us for letting this holy place fall into ruin. May you look upon this deed by Etheros and smile.”

  He spoke with reverence Leo rarely saw in him. Leo didn’t think the Gods were receptive to such prayers anymore. Especially Terra, but he knew better than to judge or mock. It didn’t affect him at all, and if it made Martin happy in these trying times, so be it.

  In short order, camps propped up. They were of poor quality, crudely stained tents and flimsy tables, but it was better than nothing. For the rest of the day and into the night and the next day, people trickled in from all over the city, cautious survivors and mobs of the undead. The twins were very busy, keeping track of everything and going through great efforts to keep the peace and explain what had happened.

  The others also played their part; Leo, Petro, Martin, and Elizabeth maintained watch in certain areas. Annabelle came across other guaritori, some living, some dead, and together they treated the wounded in makeshift infirmaries. They also took it upon themselves to bandage the undead, to keep their bodies from falling apart any further. A strange development soon rose in tandem with their treatment. Many of the hungerless started brandishing masks.

  Their makes and shapes varied wildly. Some had only half a mask, covering the part of the face most ravaged. Most others had full masks and some even had clutches of feathers and pieces covering the scalp and chin. Still others wore them in conjunction with the hats and headdresses they wore in life.

  The lingering artists took to these new canvas with passion and drive. In part to restore some semblance of familiarity, and in part to get their minds off their woes. While some were plain and simple, many others held patterns. Countless variants of stripes, embroideries, some featured flowers, the moon or the sun. Some had speckles of color like distant stars or images evoking the woods or the sea. Some of them had blank expressions, others had smiles and sneers. Some of the hungerless even had their bandages dyed to match the color of their chosen masks.

  It was as if the artistry of the cittadini of Ventoso was as indomitable as its spirit. Leo, Petro and Elizabeth were unnerved by the sight while Annabelle and Martin found it wonderful. Luna and Stello immediately joined in the craze and got one for Giani.

  Giani led the undead into slowly rebuilding what they had destroyed. Together they discovered that not only do the hungerless no longer tire or eat, but they do not need to sleep either. A strange boon of their new existence, if temporary. Hammers and picks clanged at all hours, yet the hungerless themselves were eerily silent. Living and dead alike foraged for food, breaking into granaries and reclaiming market stalls. Like the first embers of hope, meager lights grew in bakeries and shops.

  Leo and Elizabeth walked into one of the deeper sanctums. It looked similar to the sanctum Leo saw in Raveno, perhaps smaller. Cabinets were opened, and parchments were laid about. The dread-wasp leg was on a table amongst other sacks and vials. Etheros was there, writing stuff down on paper. He didn’t even notice them enter, and only when they knocked did he jolt up.

  “Sorry,” said Leo. “We just wanted to check on you.”

  “You’ve been in here since yesterday,” added Elizabeth.

  Etheros leaned back in his chair. “I’m doing fine. I’ve deduced a lot about the leg. Observe!” Muttering a spell, the dread-wasp leg floated to him. Etheros pulled out a knife and gently placed it against the appendage. “It would appear that the enhanced durability of this dread-wasp is strictly related to the brand. Sever the connection to the brand . . .” Etheros chipped a piece off. It hit the floor, rapidly decomposing, like time itself speeding up. “. . . and the power is gone. By all accounts, this appendage should have completely decayed by now, but it hasn’t. The properties of the brand endure even after death.”

  Leo’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand why the princess caused so much concern. Generale Augustino was able to kill it fine.”

  “How did he finish it off?”

  “The princess stabbed herself with her own stinger.”

  Etheros’ eyes narrowed. “Interesting. By all accounts, that shouldn’t have worked.”

  “What makes you say that?” asked Elizabeth.

  “Because if this brand imbues extreme immunity to physical attacks, it should have healed from that blow. Unless . . .” Etheros dashed toward a chest on the far back wall. It was locked. He chanted quietly, and his hand melted the chains off, the molten metal pooling around the box. He opened it up and grinned. “I knew they kept some here.”

  He pulled out a fist-sized stone. It was white and polished. He muttered an incantation, and the rock began to shift and flex, more like an organic blob than a piece of stone. The shape finally twisted into a small blade. He yanked the dread-wasp leg forward and shoved the newly forged dagger into it.

  The leg dissolved into organic mush.

  Leo’s eyes widened. “What did you do?”

  Etheros handed the blade to Leo. The stone felt cool and smooth in his hand. He passed it to Elizabeth.

  “Do you know what that is?” asked Etheros. Leo shook his head. “That is daemon-stone.”

  Elizabeth hissed and dropped it onto the floor. “Daemon-stone? They have daemon-stone locked up here?” She tensed, backing up as far as she could from the ore, breathing heavily.

  Leo was at her side, his hand on her shoulder. “Easy, easy. Breathe. It’s okay.”

  “No wonder this place went to hell!”

  Leo turned to Etheros. “What’s daemon-stone?”

  Elizabeth spat, “Cursed is what it is!”

  Etheros picked the stone off the floor, placing it back into the chest. “Daemon-stone is an ore made from calcified daemon bones, imbued with daemonic essence.”

  “You forgot to mention that it is an evil stone that brings bad luck wherever it goes! The Northern Spire is made of the stuff!” She pointed a finger at Etheros. “You ought to be more careful! That is not something to mess with.”

  “And yet, it might also save us.”

  “You’re insane!” She stormed off, her boots echoing off the marble floor.

  “I’m sorry about that,” muttered Leo.

  Etheros shrugged. “Don’t be. It is something to keep in mind.”