Distortion of truth twisted the minds of those who sought it. Everyone had swallowed a tailored version of the story, and fought for it relentlessly. Factions grew in the heart of the united city, a city that sheltered different ideologies, religions and colors without distinction at a time where the world purged those deemed to be different.

However, underneath the veil of this traveling parade emerged a legion of self-proclaimed superiority. No one acknowledged the danger they posed, and with their unrivaled secrecy, dozens were killed and discarded outside the city, leaving their loved ones to wonder where they could be.

The White Sect's ideology rivaled with peace. It imposed supremacy among the wicked, and a painful ill fate for those who wouldn't fit inside the criteria their rotten minds plotted.

I. Interrogation.

Carvo had successfully convinced the soldiers to evacuate the area. He informed them that the culprit had already escaped, and it would be more helpful to submit a city-wide notice to keep an eye on something with that description as there was no other way to catch him.. Or it.

Brando was apprehended. He was heavily beaten on his way to the solitary cell in the north of the city, yet he wouldn't dare to depart that fragile body he had stolen. Not even a word was uttered by that beast, and not a single moan was heard as he was beaten to a bulb. He knew he was Carvo's property now, and it would make sense if he'd rather die than surrender to this cunning old man, but whatever Brando had in his mind, it would be for the sake of the notion he had embraced for centuries.

In the solitary cell, Brando was chained. Carvo sneaked in using his privileges, standing behind the iron bars carefully. "What a mess." Carvo sighed, observing the bruised and bloodied body that strangely still functioned as if it was still alive.

The freshness of the skin bloomed, and the scent of rotten flesh lessened. The system was working, Brando was adjusting and this was never a good sign.

"I believe you want to make this easier for both of us." Carvo fixed his monocular as he pulled a chair and sat down, still watching him from beyond the iron bars. "You can stay silent as long as you want, but It won't do you any good." Carvo explained. "Admit your failure." Carvo firmly spoke, starring deep into the lifeless stolen eyes.

The silence flew between the two rivals. No one knew that one of the city's worst unknown enemies was humiliated and defeated. Unknown as no one ever believed in his existence, only books and poems told his tale, tens of tongues serving their interpretation of him. A power this terrifying, this advanced, was a reminder that humanity's clock was approaching its last tick. To decode the human nature, and rewrite it perfectly meant the creation of a higher specie, but now that Carvo starred into the abyss of eyes Brando possessed, he felt the greatness the Mooncallers claimed was a phony.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen." Carvo mocked Brando who still wouldn't flinch. "Who would believe it?" Carvo scoffed. "The one who was too powerful that no one believed he existed." Carvo gazed at the degrading state that face descent into.

Carvo realized how strong Brando's silence would be, but he didn't come here empty handed. He had his winning card all along with him, in his pocket. Carvo monitored the calmness of this man. He hated how admirable his durability was, but this about to come to an end. As slow as he could, building up a smirk on his wrinkled face, he took out piece of what seemed to be a machine wrapped inside a handkerchief. As soon as he had revealed it, he sensed Brando's shock. "Now you'll talk." Carvo spoke as Brando got up from his corner and approached Carvo with his eyes wide opened, starring at what he held.

"Impossible." He uttered in his manly yet static-dipped inhumane voice. "I know, right?" Carvo scoffed. "I have beaten you at your own game." Carvo boasted, watching the shock overtake the unsettling face Brando wore. "You are fooling me. It's not it." Brando stormed back into his corner. "The piece I am showing you is precisely the one you have. I have already made my own set." Carvo smirked, thrilled by Brando's distress. "That's not just it." Carvo wrapped the piece inside the handkerchief and put it into his pocket. With his sharp eyes, he penetrated the thoughts whatever this monster had in seconds.

"The big surprise is something you should have already figured out." Carvo got off his chair, and slowly approached the cell. Brando still stuck into the corner. struggling to hide his emotions. "I have reached a satisfying conclusion to a very long research I made years ago, just on my way here. I might need you to confirm it, though." He spoke. Brando sighed angrily. "This might come off as -quite insulting- but, you are not actually who you think you are." Carvo calmly spoke yet the thrill in his old voice couldn't be ignored by Brando.

"Stop with this non-sense." Brando sighed. "Just leave. You'll get nothing out of me." He continued. "Actually, I am." Carvo confidently replied, and with a lauded resilience he didn't shake for a second in front of his enemy.

"You are not Brando." Carvo explained. Brando frowned at his words, he was annoyed by the sheer presence of him. He wanted to believe that this old man posed no danger to his kind, and that whatever he had up his sleeve was none other than an empty babbling.

"You're just a piece of him, a tiny, negligible one." Carvo added. "You see, ever since the lady Maria incident happened and your name came up, I knew something was odd." Carvo walked back and forth in front of the cell. "Your actions were very unplanned. Nothing you did belonged to a man who had lived centuries, like your creator! You were quite foolish, very easy to trick." Carvo insulted him as Brando left the corner, got up and slowly approached the iron bars. "My sister turned you into a meat stew. This was all I needed to know." Carvo boasted, proudly addressing Abigail. "The Brando written in the books is something closer to a god, unprovoked by human emotions, unlike the ones you're showing now." Carvo continued his theory. "The most important part is that there's only one Brando in this world, in this universe!" He enthusiastically narrated. "Out of respect for your origin, only one man in this world was allowed to carry the power of shapeshifting, or as I like to call it, disintegration."

"But as you see, you are not the first one I found. Its just that I lacked the confirmation of what this piece exactly was" Carvo waved his pocket. "I am limited by my knowledge, after all." Carvo sighed, "It seemed that your origin created an army of himself. Little pieces of him scattered into the mind of what was once humans. He would partially unload himself into you to delude you into believing you're him. There's no better way to keep a loyal servant than spawning your own self into minions!" Carvo's observation of Brando's-or the fake Brando- reaction was slowly confirming his deduction. 

The piece Carvo intimidated Brando with was a heart, a mooncaller's heart. One that only belonged to Brando, more precisely, his minions.  It was tiny yet it perfectly mimicked the human heart. Most of the mooncaller creatures still possessed their organic heart, not tampered by the wicked steel, but when reaching the intelligent ones, hearts were twisted to last eternally, unaffected by humanly diseases and the process of aging. If Carvo were to acquire such unique piece, it would either mean that the being in the cell was missing a heart or that being is merely a copy. Carvo had possessed this piece from the remains of a battle, he had never understood who it fit as it was one of its kind,  but he closely dissected Brando's anatomy, this puzzle piece fit perfectly. That small chest that pounded so slow would only shelter that tiny heart, unlike Abigail who still had a human heart tainted by steel.

"You have NO evidence!" The fake Brando became furious, sticking his face onto the bars where Carvo fearlessly approached him. "This is where you finally become useful." Carvo spoke calmly, tricking the fake Brando into approaching him was all that he needed. With a stun baton that had enough voltage to knock a mooncaller, he hit him at his neck, knocking him down unconscious in split seconds.

"Come on, girl! Hurry up." Carvo called Marcela and another soldier who rushed in as they had been there all along. with a strap and a stroller, they carried the unconscious soldier and followed according to Carvo's plan, the one had orchestrated perfectly. Carvo was about to pour his research onto the master's puppet.

II. Harder than steel.

It has been three hours since Abigail was knocked down. She had been shackled above the alter like a toy, eyes were fixated on her as she struggled to break free. She lightly remembered who knocked her down, and how she mercilessly beheaded Miles but her hatred was still burning strong, awaiting the singing lady to appear so she could strike her down once and for all.

When it comes to Abigail's human life, it was crystal clear in her memories. Towards the end of it, she gradually lost it. What came after it was nothing but a blur, few faces rang a bill and a certain number awaken a dormant feeling inside her. Abigail's murder was a cold blooded one she did her best to erase any memory of it. She remembered being overpowered, and the feeling of loss. The pain of the blade that sunk deep in her chest, and the blackness following it. Remembering those moments made her twist her shackles in rage. "Untie me!" She screamed, but there was no reaction from the audience.

They held a small book which they all read silently. She felt humiliated by their occasional glances and intimidated by their serenity. Those glances made her feel naked and exposed, she felt ashamed to carry that body and reveal it to her worst enemies. "I wouldn't forgive myself if I didn't kill them." Abigail thought as she eyed them one by one. "I have been tricked again." She believed. "Carvo was right all along." She observed the blood on the walls. "But I guess this isn't a bad thing.." Abigail coughed as she begun thinking clearly of how to break out of this situation.

"Let me down!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, hoping to provoke the singing lady. "Let me down now before I burn this entire place down!" She shouted. She was met by the hateful eyes glaring at her from each bench, but it didn't stop her. She screamed and her energy never ran out, although she should have lost all of her will by now, her body didn't abide the rules humans went by anymore.

"I sense it.." Abigail looked around in her anger fit, sensing the presence of another mooncaller. From the backdoor came the lady in white once again. Abigail's self awareness suddenly started to arise. Her mind was in a conflict, and her heart went berserk. The thought of being empowered once again triggered her emotions, and the more she looked around, the more she felt suffocated.

"It would have been better if you spent the last remaining hours asleep." The singing lady spoke to Abigail, looking at her from underneath.

"Why are you doing this?" Abigail grunted, she received no answer. The lady walked back and forth, observing the church and the members carefully as she seemed to be counting them, then she stood still and glared at the uncleaned blood of Miles.
"You know you can't keep me here forever."  Abigail intimidated her, finally grabbing the lady's attention.

"All your trials are futile." The lady addressed Abigail as her eyes were fixated on the blood stained walls. "In just few hours, you'll thank me for my patience." She continued. "Finally, you'll experience your first fullmoon." The lady gestured a member to bring in someone. Abigail still sensed the presence of an inactive mooncaller, one that was currently tranquil and posed no danger.

Once the word fullmoon had been mentioned, Abigail begun to remember what awaited her. She concluded that the strength she was gradually gaining were due to the foretold event of fullmoon carnality. Now, the revelation of the calamity she would endure had been exposed to her red eyes, fear crawled into her hollow heart as the wide side door of the church was swung open, announcing the arrival of another white sect member.

"Perfect." Uttered the lady, and finally, her name was revealed. "Lady Ernesta." Welcomed the arriving member coated in their white uniform, accompanied by what seemed to be a young girl not older than twelve, surprisingly dressed in the same white dress as Lady Ernesta.

The young girl had sunk her face into the floor. Every single eye in that room were focused on her, walking slowly to lady Ernesta while dragging her white dress behind. It was as if she was a princess, perhaps in a different world. She would falter for split seconds as she approached the lady yet she did her best to maintain her balance. As soon as she had reached Ernesta, she refused to look at Abigail who was hung right above her. She bowed in respect as Ernesta placed her hands on her shoulders and smiled warmly. The two did resemble each other.

"Don't be afraid, look." Ernesta ordered the young girl who was hesitant but finally mastered the courage to look up at Abigail. Abigail's humiliation was striking her as hard as her hunger as the girl looked straight into her eyes with her staggering hazel eyes. Abigail's glance at that young face sent her into a state of torment. That child was terrified of her. Abigail shied away from her gaze as Ernesta softly spoke in the child's ears.

"You'll be graced by the gods. They're all proud of you." Whispered Ernesta while Abigail was able to listen to them due to her enhanced hearing ability. The child was almost sniffling but Ernesta wiped her frozen tears right away. "It will not be painful, my sweet child." She whispered. "It will be ecstatic. You won't feel any pain." She continued and Abigail begun to piece more information about that child, and Ernesta's motives.

This young girl was clearly Ernesta's child. The resemblance the two had was undeniable. As for the child's fear, Abigail felt that her deduction was not entirely accurate and although this child was scared to death because of her, something else was brewing in this wicked church that Abigail was too ignorant to picture.

But not anymore.

A coffin encrusted with silver and gold pieces was laid on the grand door, it had been there when the soldier accompanying the girl arrived. It was not longer than the child's height, and at last it all made sense.

This child was a sacrifice to feed Abigail's moonlust.

III. The grand master.

Ivanka and Andrew had reunited by the wooden door, relaying on the theory she had concluded. Andrew's pain was still there, but strangely, it started attacking him in waves. The door had led them into another narrow passage that showed another door by the end of it. It felt like they were going in circles, this underground architecture was supposedly abandoned as far as they knew. The legions wouldn't use them as hideouts as they were initially the birthplace of the monsters, where some of them hadn't awaken yet.

"Hang on." Ivanka calmed Andrew whose breathing was erratic. "I have a bad feeling about this." Andrew spoke as he held his arm. "I have never had that pain before, and that blood, I wasn't injured." Andrew shared his thoughts. "I have my suspicions at the moment." Ivanka eyed Andrew. "I can't speak about them, but I believe you already know." She continued, Andrew gulped. "Let's keep it that way, we don't need to share anything." Andrew eyed her back, he didn't trust her fully yet he found himself blindly walking the pass to a mystery alongside her.                                                                       

The two were thrilled to see what lied behind that door. Could it be their own demise? A cruel fate that they could never foresee? Maybe. Or, it could be the hand that pulled them of this endless maze, one that finally put an end to the sovereign kind and the eternal torment they inflicted upon humans of the dying city.

"Are you ready?" Ivanka asked, placing her hand on the door handle, awaiting Andrew's confirmation. She exhaled then opened it slowly.

It was old room, dim light revealing it, feasted upon by spider webs. A dusty library and a table greeted them as their eyes raced to catch the inside of this narrow room. The wooden ground creaked, and there they were. The plotter.

Holding a turned off lamplight, they walked slowly, at last, they exposed their face as the lamplight was slowly turned on by itself, igniting more light into the semi-dark room. There was no hesitation in their calculated steps, and there was no signs of hostility between the three individuals in that dark room. But, before words could be exchanged, Andrew passed out unexpectedly. Ivanka gasped but paid no attention to Andrew, her eyes were only preoccupied by the vision she was seeing.

"I knew you would find me." The plotter softly spoke, wiggling his one meter long bionic tail.