Valens dashed through the streets, deaf against the voices in his head, the emotions in his heart, the cold, hard weight settling around his shoulders. He pushed on even as golden lights sprinkled across the sky, Celme dragging a tired Selin from his back, Nomad beating against the crumbled buildings with one body flung over his shoulder.“I need a new set of skin,” he had told Valens when he questioned the reason for it. Broken Lands or not, the Undead making an appearance to the public was hardly considered a common thing. Valens couldn’t find it in him to say anything about it.I’m too tired.At each passing second a new set of frequencies appeared in Belgrave, screaming as if announcing the coming of a mighty figure. Golden lights accompanied their arrival, flashing and sprinkling across the air like a show of sacred fireworks.He saw out of the corner of his eyes Templars bounding across in crowded groups, often headed by Dawnkeepers who seemed in a rush to deliver justice of their Divine. Too late, they all were. The floodgates had already been opened, and the city of Belgrave had long since fallen to the damned.As they passed through Anguiler Street, Valens swept a gaze across the rich part of the city once lively with all sorts of celebrations. Now it had lost its former glory, lending the jewels and the high roofs, the long acres and the fancy gates to the silence. The rich were likely the first ones to get out of this madness.Not all of them, it appeared, since there was an odd man standing on his giant balcony, holding a pair of red ribbons in his head, youthful face brimming with joyful harmony. The smile on his face stretched wide when his eyes fell on Valens’s group as they dashed past the Gray Mansion, and without hesitating, he waved a hand at Valens as though sending off a much-cherished friend to a long voyage.You’re a sick man, Mr. Gray, aren’t you?It took turning multiple (...)