I emerge from the tavern onto the darkened street. The sun has fled the sky, and the moon now looms in the wake. It looms over the city like a watchful eye, shining light down and casting shadows. Gas lamps and electric lights illuminate the streets. Any of the fires that were previously around have since died.
Bodies are still strewn through the city like littered trash. The stench of blood, death, and decay rides the air, infiltrating every nook and cranny that they encounter. Ash rains from the sky like a light dusting of snow.
The wind howls. Bodies swing beneath lamp posts, swaying like birds in storms. Pools of blood patch the streets like water following heavy rain. Muddy cobblestones steer my path forward through the city.
I walk the street, my ears listening for the slightest movements, eyes watching for creeping souls. I was only out for an hour or so, yet this place seems to have grown grimmer. Maybe it's the fact that the sun has finally set, or it's the death that continues to pile around. Either way, each minute that passes causes this place to decay that much further.
What is this hunt?
I come to a crossroads, the intersection of two cobblestone pathways. The moon hangs between the buildings that are directly in front of me like a guiding star. I look down at each of the paths, peering into dimly lit alleyways. I only see the few lights that trickle away from me.
There is a thud to my left as a box tumbles to the ground. I turn to look but see nothing in the darkness. I do not have a light. I'm solely illuminated by the streetlamp that hangs above me at the intersections. The buildings around me seem abandoned; some have boards and bars across the doors and windows. Raw iron fences still protect them all from invaders, and gargoyles still loom over me, watching and waiting to pounce.
I catch movement from the corner of my eye, turning to see a rat the size of a stray dog staring at me. Its eyes glow yellow with a black dot in their center that absorbs light. Spotted grey and black fur coats its body; its tail swishes back and forth. Knives jet out from its toes like talons on an eagle.
It begins to snarl, showing razor blade teeth hidden behind its gums. Its claws twitch. Foam flows from its maw.
It squeals and then leaps at me like a frog jumping to another lily. I sidestep the creature, barely missing me by mere inches. It crashes down the alleyway.
I see another.
They both pounce on me, and I am unprepared. One bites my leg while I'm able to punch the other out of the sky. I draw my dagger and drive it into the rat that gnaws at me. I feel it slice through flesh and bore into bone. I yank it out, a little piece of grey matter stuck to the blade, blood geysers from the wound.
The rat has not let go.
I stab the rat repeatedly in rage. I can feel its teeth sinking into me, the blood dripping from me. The pain is searing, but it quickly fades from my mind. Once I feel the jaw of the rat begin to slacken, I slow the pace at which my blade enters its head.
The other rat springs from the shadows, coming for my jugular. Still in the air, I draw my other dagger and thrust it upward into the neck of the rat. I hear the sink break as it penetrates the beast. It cleaves through flesh with jagged precision; the sound is wet. I yank it to the side, then plunge it deeper; I hear the snap of its spinal cord and watch as the light in its eyes dims. Both rats lay at my feet, life extinguished.
I look down at the wounds that have been inflicted upon me, deep gashes that burrow into my flesh like festering maggots. Blood runs, dripping into my boot, soaking my sock as I've stomped through a puddle. My pants are torn from jagged teeth. My skin is red from an impending infection.
I watch as the blood trickle slows, coming to a stop. The redness fades. The gashes close on themselves; it's like I was never bitten by a rat. If it wasn't for my torn pants, no one would suspect a thing. I don't understand how that could happen, how my wounds could close at such a rapid rate.
Perhaps the blessing from the Pope? It must be; there is no other capable reason. The Pope cast some sort of miracle on me to help in my healing, knowing that I would be in danger on this hunt. It explains why I do not bleed where I was bitten by Sabrina.
I push wicked thoughts from my mind, yet they creep inside me. So much death. Bodies. Blood. The gore lay before me like an offering. I bask in the horror. I bathe in the blood.
I pull myself back to reality.
I wipe the blades clean before sheathing them. Blood is smeared across the legs of my pants, soaking in and mingling with the black cloth. I'm stained with crimson that blew from the geyser. Each cut sprayed me like water from a hose.
Mangled rat bodies lay at my feet. I step over them and continue down the alleyway, walking towards the university, which lies under the celestial orb that hangs in the sky.
These dark streets are cold, hollow, and rancid with gore. Just hours ago, it was a holy city, a light that bellowed into the abyss. Now it's turned into a living nightmare that I walk like a husk. I'm haunted by the shadows that follow me, never leaving my side. I watch my back, constantly turning to see if someone or something is following me. Still, I wonder: what am I hunting? And what nightmare awaits me in the darkened university?
I feel at home in this horror. My fear has left me, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I swim through illusions that would make children cry, women shriek, and men run for their lives.
After what feels like an eternity, walking through the forsaken city, I stumble upon the university. A sign the size of a brick wall sits outside of the building, iron lines its sides, and rises towards the pale moon. A bronze plaque is perched in the middle, marked 'Rapna University' in bold letters, a statement below reading 'Study the Stars.'
There is a dark presence that lingers over the building, an omen for a horseman about to descend from heaven. A bubble wraps the building in said presence, a cloud, casting a deep silhouette over the place. I could have never imagined a place this beautiful and shrouded by so much despair. It's devoid of light, seemingly empty, and looks to have been as such since before this hunt started.
Gates bar the entrance, immovable iron standing guards. Gates are taller than those that lead into the city. The spikes that are erected on the top of the iron are longer than those at the front of the city. Pushing through the gates, I gain a clear vision of the university building; even in the dark, its beauty is not hidden. The moonlight shines like a low-hanging star and lights the way with an eerie tint. Vines weave their way up the walls, growing in places that they have no business being. An immaculate oak tree marks the entrance, standing guard against trespassers.
I'm haunted by the sense that I'm being watched or followed. I can feel eyes burrowing into my skin, burning, searing their vision into me. I look behind me but see no one in the darkness. I'm surrounded by ghosts and silence. I know they surround me, but they elude my gaze. Many windows loom before me, though I see nothing in them, nothing but an obscure abyss that glances back into me.
The doors to the university building are grand, holding the way into a mansion of knowledge. Crafted from what looks to be solid oak, the figures are carved into the door. It's more of a mural than an actual door. The carvings are those of owls, all in different positions. The middle of the door holds a pair of owls flying, talons spread, beaks wide, about to snatch something for a kill. Owls are known for their wisdom, but are lesser known to be vicious killers.
I see the pictures on the doors as an ominous warning for what I am stepping into. As I push the door open, they slowly move, sticking and creaking like they've been closed for a millennium. I stop and begin looking for something that I could use to create a torch, something to help me light my way. Door wide open, I turn and approach the tree pulling off branches. I wrap them in moss, making a torch that won't last long. All I need is to find a light of some sort inside the building. My torches only need to last that long.
A whisper rides the wind as I make my way into the university.
"Ezra, come find me," the voice calls, soft, sweet, and soaked in something ancient.
My blood runs cold. It knows my name.