The bone rain lasted for little over an hour. It was followed by a storm of heavy rain, each droplet the color of smudge, and a bludgeoning wind that challenged the structural integrity of every dwelling in the village. Only two structures remained remarkably intact. One being the temple, the other, the bathhouse. 

      Junipor had adorned herself in furs, following Domitilla’s miraculous healing. She wasn’t unfamiliar with scars, but wasn’t used to them healing so quickly. Thanks to her thick skin, few injuries left a mark. Those that had appeared like tiny pale slivers on her copper toned skin. The most notable of which had been carved along her hip, given by a trainers axe who had grown careless during a bout at the tavern. Another appeared like a small gash along her left shoulder blade. That one came from a boar during one of her first hunts. Junipor couldn’t believe it got the better of her. Her uncle, meanwhile, believed it was a worthy prize, and roasted it over a spit to feed the family for weeks.

      These newest cuts and bruises had faded away, as if they were never there. The gash in her thigh was long gone, and the deep slice on her cheek was mended. Only dried blood remained, to which Junipor washed herself thoroughly. Even the thin, but deep, slash down her shoulder blades was gone, leaving behind a latent itch.

      Junipor’s tail wagged back and forth, relieved of the sudden pain, and Francesca curled along the nape of her neck, happy that she was alright. There were plenty of fennec’s in the bathhouse as well, taking refuge from the storm.

      Inside, the bathhouse was flooded with villagers, all of whom were frightened. Seldie tried to comfort the children, and was happy to let them play with her scaly tail and horns. Using all the fire in her lungs had taxed her, and she was just happy that Junipor was safe.

      It was haunting, watching the sheets of bone plow into the permafrost, and shatter upon the stonework. Once the sickening noise had passed, Junipor approached the door leading outside with a tamed patience. Nothing prepared her for the scene awaiting her.

      The bones had disintegrated into a fine brown powder, and coated the ground like a carpet of sugar. Only the largest bones held there density for a time, but slowly became like sand. The wind brushed it aside, making piles of dust settle against the buildings.

      A priestess stood next to the doorway, garbed in white robes, and placed a hand on Junipor’s shoulder. “Do not worry. In these moments, when are lives are placed firmly in the hands of the goddess, we are the most blessed.” 

      Junipor tried to seem calm, but there was no hiding the tear strolling down her cheek. “Of course sister.” She believed the words of the priestess, finding wisdom in the grace of the goddess, rather than remorse. There lives were in the hands of the goddess now, and while things were dark, there was comfort in knowing that.

      “We best hurry, before the second passage.” Somehow, Domitilla was standing next to Junipor without her knowing.

      Junipor jumped to the side, confused and terrified at how the Teifling managed to creep up alongside her so silently. She nearly bumped into the priestess, who just narrowly dodged out of the way. 

      “Where did you come from?” Junipor yipped, meanwhile the fennec on her shoulder hissed toward the forked tail creature.

      The blight born merely returned an amused glare. “And I thought Pharine’s had excellent hearing…no matter.”

      Unlike the Teifling, the human’s footsteps were quite audible, and Junipor looked over to see him, in full travel garb, walking toward them. “Where is the source coming from?” He looked out toward the horizon. Junipor couldn’t help but notice the electric chill in the air, and the sense of euphoria when standing next to him. There was a primal energy accompanying his every step, something that hadn’t been there before.

      “West, likely in the hills.” Domitilla answered with her tail pointing the way.

      West? Junipor’s ears shot up. Beyond the walls to the west laid the Somber Woods. Beyond that there was the narrow gorge leading to the lowlands sanctuary. Surrounded by cliffs, it was only one pathway leading to the fennec reserve. “Not the sanctuary!”

      “Oh great, you have a place called ‘The Sanctuary’, who would ever have thought.” Domitilla sighed.

      Caius brushed her aside. “The second verse will begin with a blood moon. So we have probably, four hours to stop it.”  

      Junipor had no idea what they were talking about, but noticed how the human was pondering to himself.

      “Should we notify her?” The Teifling asked him, without regard to explaining to Junipor who she was talking about. Evidently, judging by the sound of her voice, it was serious.

      “Oh trust me, she already knows.” Again Junipor had no idea who they were talking about, but Caius ground his teeth while considering their options.

      The blight born shrugged, then orbited around Caius like he were a plaything, before perching up against him. For some reason, the way she was leaning up against the human upset Junipor. She noted to herself to ponder that later.

      “I dont know why you trust her…” Domitilla spoke quietly, not wanting her words to carry too far.

      “I don’t, but not sure we have a choice.” Caius patted the dirt from his trousers, and then ensured all his belts were fastened appropriately.

      Junipor straitened. “I’m right here…” 

      Both of them looked at her with quizzical stares. Caius answered first. “Hmm…oh we’re not talking about you. You know what? Never mind, lets get back to stopping the second verse.”

      “Second verse?” Junipor’s hair straightened.

      “Necromancers operate in stages, they call them passages or verses, but either way this is just the start.” It disturbed Junipor that the Teifling would have an understanding of such archaic, and demonic, practices. 

      The priestess muttered a silent prayer upon hearing the word necromancy being openly spoken.

      “Theres a necromancer,” Junipor spoke with a whisper. “How the hell do you know this?”

      “It’s our job.” Caius paused, his eyes darting to the floor. “Or it was…i guess. But even though our Lord Inquisitor died, his responsibilities continue. I suppose in a way, we’re acting Inquisitors until his cases are cleared.” 

      Inquisitors were a human concept, something the Pharine’s were divorced from for some time. As such, the title meant nothing to Junipor, although she could tell it was a position of influence given how Caius spoke the label with reverence. 

      “Why is a necromancer here?” Just saying the word necromancer felt disgusting. It was like thick slime was drooling over her tongue, and Junipor had to fight from spitting on the sacred marble floors.

      Caius looked out to see the skies beginning to clear. “He’s an agent of the Demon Lord, hoping to extend his domain farther north. It’s our job to stop him.”

      “If your going to the sanctuary, then I’m coming with you.” Junipor brushed a layer of bone dust off her shoulder.

      The priestess next to her also stepped forward. “No one may enter the sanctuary without the blessing of the temple. So I’m coming with you as well. We should summon the town guard to join us.” 

      “You got something to fight with?” Caius’s words were aimed at Junipor.

      She snarled, and her eyes narrowed. “You’re looking at the best blacksmith and hunter in the village of Hitecross. Just tell me, what can I use to kill a necromancer?” 

      “Dafast dag ohwey bonfvri adti?” Seldie asked in confusion. Having finally been releived of all the playful young Pharines, the Zakinae strutted to Junipor’s side with an exhausted look upon her face. 

      Junipor draped her arm around the Zakinae’s shoulders and pointed toward the sanctuary. “We’re going to find the blight born who did this, and gut him like a fish.”

      Seldie smirked, understanding the gist of what Junipor was saying.