SalivaSpittingWorm

Thanks everyone for reading the story. If you like the story so please leave a review, rating, follow or even a comment. Any feedback will be appreciated. I hope you enjoy the chapter.

Chapter Alert. This chapter contains an indirect description of violence against children. It is not suitable for weaker natures. You've been warned, so don't complain. :P

End of the World

Time passed, and Caila, who had nothing to do, fell asleep again to alleviate the boredom. She had done this many times, hundreds, maybe thousands, but this was the first time she had ever had a dream.

"Whaaa! Whaaaa!" Caila heard a baby cry in the darkness.

"Just a little longer! You'll make it. He's almost out!" She heard the anxious male voice as well.

"Aaaaaahhh!" the woman's cry was full of exhaustion and pain.

"That's it! You made it!" the male voice encouraged the woman, but there was still anxiety in his voice.

Caila blinked, a sudden light stabbing her eyes. Everything was blurry, but she could tell she was in a room, and there was a blurry figure hovering over her in which she recognized the face of the man holding her. She couldn't make out the appearance, but at least she recognized it.

"Am I a child? What does that mean?" She wondered while the child she was watching through screamed at the top of her lungs.

"This..." She heard the man's voice over the screams, sounding horrified.

"Haa... haa... what... what's wrong? Let me see her." The woman pleaded tiredly.

"Dear... I don't think..." The man spoke hesitantly, but the woman sternly interrupted him despite her weakness. "Show me!"

The man stood up and carried Caila to the woman. She saw another stain, but other than appearing feminine, she couldn't make out anything other than the colors. Caila mentally cursed the fact that children had such poor eyesight when they were born.

"Aaah! What is that!" the woman suddenly cried out in horror.

"That... is our child...." The man replied slowly, and the woman screamed again.

"This can't be our child! Just look at it!" The woman sounded hysterical.

Caila began to frown subconsciously. What the hell kind of mother is this!

"I can see, damn it! No... no... alright... calm down." The man sounded stressed.

"No! Put it away! Put it away! Get rid of it now!" the woman screamed and cried at the same time.

"Yes." The man replied and left the room with the baby in his arms. It was dark outside; she could see the dark sky and the smell of the forest in the air. The man didn't carry her far; after a while, he stopped and put the baby on the ground. Caila lost sight of the man for a moment before he returned and stood over her. He lifted something large and dark above his head.

"Sorry. Something like you should never have been born," the man said before abruptly tossed the object on top of her.

Everything went black again.

Caila, who perceived the darkness, also began to sense other sensations—feelings of confusion, surprise, and then anger. The anger grew steadily until she was almost choking on it.

Then, a blue spark appeared in the darkness.

Caila blinked again and saw the corpse-pale little hands that were pushing away the dirt. She wiped the dirt from her eyes and stared towards a simple house nearby. It was night again.

She began to slide along the ground towards the house; the movement was infinitely slow, taking an eternity to crawl up to the house. When small hands, pale and dirty, touched the wooden wall, a blue ring of fire appeared, eating away the wood in a perfect circle and creating a hole through which she could crawl inside.

The room was dark, and she could hear the soft double breathing coming from the bed. She approached the bed, the sound of something small sliding weakly across the wooden floor in addition to the two people breathing.

Caila grabbed the foot of the bed and climbed up before stopping at the top and looking down at the man and woman sleeping peacefully in the bed.

Finally, Caila could see their appearance. They both had black hair, and there was even an uncanny resemblance, as if the two were related. But what was most striking was how beautiful they were—almost inhumanly beautiful, like people who could only exist in someone's dreams at most.

The child through whom Caila observed everything slowly lowered herself into the bed and approached them. The child then stopped in their midst and opened its mouth. "Mother. Father," the child said in a voice that was still childlike, but the pronunciation was perfect.

Both the man and the woman opened their eyes, which were the deep blue of a stormy sea. They both looked at her, and their eyes widened in horror.

Caila dimly saw in their eyes the reflection of a child who was no longer a child. The head was misshapen, almost missing, but the missing part was replaced by a blue flame that created the illusion of a head, eyes, and nose.

The two adults began to move, but the child reached out its short arms and gripped the skin, flesh, and muscles of their necks. It was as if their very flesh was caught in the flame, spreading through their bodies, roasting them alive from the inside out.

The blood boiled, the skin burned through like burning paper, and all they could do was shouted mutely, but all that came out of their mouths was black smoke that smelled like sizzling fat.

Caila watched it all calmly until she saw even their bones turn to ash. The bed remained intact; all that was left were the ashes in the shape of a human body.

The child watched this before turning her head and seeing the shadows begin to merge into one. The figure of an impossibly tall man in a tailcoat and high top hat emerged.

Hellcage bowed to the child. "Shall we go, my Liege?" he asked.

The child nodded. "Yes. I'm done here," she replied and reached out her arms to Hellcage, who took her in his arms, and Caila felt Hellcage smile while he patted her back lightly.

Hellcage then, and her, sank into the shadows again.

Caila woke up and opened her eyes, feeling incredibly angry; all she wanted to do was destroy something and scream. So, she did.

"AAAAAGGRRR!!!" she shouted angrily, and a wall of blue flames rose wildly around her, rapidly reaching almost to the high ceiling.

The room began to shake, and the tremors spread rapidly; soon, the entire palace was shaking, and an angry roar echoed throughout the island.

Zenobe and Lambert, who were still busy counting the statues in the city, turned in shock towards the shaking palace.

"Ah no! My beloved Liege is having another seizure!" Zenobe immediately jumped on her snakes and rushed back to the palace.

Lambert didn't delay either, leaping high into the air before landing on the roof of the house, and like a ninja, he began to leap over rooftops, rushing towards the palace.

Opera, who opened her eyes due to the tremors, flew out of the vase and quickly moved towards the throne. It flew through the wall of flames and stopped at the back of the great throne. Caila didn't know it, but there was a small organ just behind the throne that Opera sat down at. A pair of hands emerged from her immaterial body and began to run across the keyboard.

Opera played a soft melody that reminded her of a calm, spring moonlit night with its gentle and peaceful tones. (Chopin - Nocturne in C Sharp Minor No. 20)

The opera was oblivious to the tremors or to the fiery rage of fire and shouting. She simply played, and her gaze was unfocused. Gradually, the tremors lessened, and the blue flames began to diminish.

Zenobe appeared in the doorway and was soon followed by Lambert, but they were relieved when they heard the music. They didn't know that Opera had woken up, so they remained standing at the door, watching their Liege calm down.

Caila had been out of her senses since waking up. All she perceived was a terrible rage that she didn't know how to control. Then, vaguely, she began to hear soothing sounds that made her direct her attention to them. The anger faded into the background until it finally disappeared as quickly as someone flipping a switch.

The tremors disappeared, the flames died, and Caila stopped screaming. She felt confused and exhausted, but she didn't have much time to ponder the matter as the soft melody lulled her to sleep. True sleep.

The opera didn't stop playing for a long time before she finally pulled her hands away. Everyone—Opera, Zenobe, and Lambert—quietly withdrew, almost waiting with bated breath to see if their Liege would suddenly awaken again, but remained awestruck. Finally, they sighed; Opera returned to the vase and, after briefly glancing at Zenobe and Lambert, just closed her eyes and ignored them.

Lambert and Zenobe quietly left; outside, they patted their chests to calm their nervous hearts.

Zenobe looked back. "Hopefully, soon our Liege will regain all her strength. Her sleep is not good for the End of the World. If that happened and there was no one to calm her down, it could end badly," she said to Lambert.

Lambert snapped his fingers, and the clipboard appeared in his hand with an ornate feathered pen hovering over the paper on the clipboard. "She's bored. You know very well that sitting still and doing nothing is not her style. What is she supposed to do besides sleep?" Lambert replied, smiling out of the corner of his mouth as he noticed Zenobe staring at his clipboards.

"Huh uh... what's that?" asked Zenobe.

"This?" Lambert repeated haughtily, showing her the folders, which had a thick sheet of papers pinned to them with names, addresses, and other personal information. "That's the latest census list from the End of the World," he replied, curling his lips into a full smile.

"What!? Where did you get that?" Zenobe exclaimed in surprise.

"In the administration building. Where else? What? How do you count statues?" Lambert was obviously mocking her, but he was answering her questions.

Zenobe was stunned; in fact, she was just walking around and just counting and not even writing it down anywhere. "Um... can you give me a copy?" she asked, rushing over to Lambert.

"No," he replied.

Zenobe puffed out her cheeks and stomped her foot on the ground a few times in annoyance. "Lambert! You stingy little imp!"

Lambert held his nose up and straightened his back proudly. "Don't let your pointy hat fly off, hag. Face it. You'll never beat me. Your sense of organization is as lousy as ever."

Capital City Norss
Underground of the Temple of the Goddess of the Sea and Storm

The Temple of the Goddess of the Sea and the Storm had a total of twelve floors: three underground, one at ground level, and eight above ground level. The lowest floor of the Temple was the first floor, and the highest was the twelfth floor, where the Pope himself resided.

On the first floor were the holding cells. It was a huge underground space created from an underwater cave that had been further modified and enlarged by human hands. The first floor was the most protected place in the entire Temple, even more so than the Pope's residence. This was because malevolent creatures, criminals, anomalies, and anything that could threaten civilized society were held here.

The entire area was divided into sections: the prison, the archive, the laboratory, and the holding cells. Everyone who worked on the first floor had to pass a series of tests and take a vow of secrecy before a holy relic of the Goddess of the Sea and Storm.

However, Claude, Leontine, and their sailors had no idea about the other sections. They were all kept in the holding cell section. The holding section was for assessing the problem and purging them when necessary. They were kept separately in a small cell that contained only chairs, a table, and electric lights.

The cell itself had no walls or doors. Instead, a couple of perched bars embedded in the ground acted as support for the water bubble that made up the actual cell. The surface of the bubble rippled slightly, as if the water inside was slowly flowing, and occasionally tiny water eddies could be seen, which in turn disappeared.

Claude, sitting at the table, watched the watery surface of the bubble and felt at ease. He could sense the high concentration of blessings in this place and knew that it was meant to contain even individuals much stronger than himself.

Nevertheless, Claude was not worried about his fate. He knew that Mr. Hellcage had already left their bodies and scattered around the capital. After their bodies were cleansed, they would be able to return to their normal lives.

Claude looked away, lifted his hand, and slowly touched his lower back where he knew there was a jagged scar from where his tail had once been. When he moved his shoulders, he felt tension on his shoulder blades where the uneven skin was stretched—the same remnants of having his wings removed as a newborn.

He couldn't stop thinking about what Mr. Hellcage had told him.

"So you remove your nature to please others. What an unfortunate existence. And for that, you will cut off your wings and sever the tails that were given to you at birth. Why didn't you also remove your horns in an attempt to mimic humans?"

Claude couldn't get the words out of his mind. It touched his deepest feelings and questions from his younger days, but those questions had faded as he got older and began to understand the workings of the world.

His race continued to teach their young about the past, which was why he knew about their ancestor, Abraham—their former appearance, their culture, their origins. Not everyone accepted this new way. There was a small portion of his people who refused to give up their roots. They continued to call themselves Cambion, not amputating their tails or wings, and they continued to believe in Mr. Abraham. As brothers and sisters, they didn't fight, but they despised each other and lived apart.

As a child, Claude questioned and didn't understand why they had to do this, especially when he saw the unsightly scars, and one child in ten had permanent effects or even died from the amputation. But he was told it was the price of living in peace.

Mr. Hellcage, who knew Cambion history well and even acted like he knew Mr. Abraham personally, brought up old doubts about the way of life his race led.

Claude stopped examining his scars and instead remembered the conversation he had had with Mr. Hellcage and Marik.

"It is understandable that you sought protection elsewhere when you lost Abraham. Yet while I understand the reasons, I feel that what you are doing is somewhat extreme. To have yourself mutilated for it?" Mr. Hellcage shook his head in disbelief.

"In the interest of self-preservation, it was necessary. There were already too many people. If our race didn't adapt, we would probably be exterminated. The world was much more primitive and chaotic by the time we arrived on this world. Diplomacy was almost non-existent," Claude defended himself grimly.

Mr. Hellcage sighed in resignation. "I say I understand. What I'm wondering, though, is whether you're happy with it? Do you intend to exist like this... forever?"

Claude didn't understand what Mr. Hellcage was trying to say at that moment and was getting angry. No one likes to have their way of life criticized. While gritting his teeth, he replied heavily, "Naturally. It's just the way we live now."

Mr. Hellcage stared at Claude for a moment before leaning back in his chair and taking another relaxed sip from his cup of tea. "Hmm... I see. How fortunate that we got here and our god. Maybe without her, we would have ended up like the Cambion race after all." He spoke lightly, a slight note of superiority in his voice.

Claude stopped gritting his teeth and stared at him in amazement. "Your god came here with you?" he asked, then flinched as he realized he was feeling a little jealous.

Hellcage turned his masked face slightly towards him, but his condescending smile was still felt. "Yes. Our honorable Liege is here with us. For now, she remains in the shadows, but rest assured that soon this whole new world will know her greatness."

Claude was surprised. Mr. Hellcage seemed sophisticated, perhaps a little arrogant, but once he began to speak of his god, there was no mistaking the tone of adoration. Claude's little feeling of jealousy grew a little bigger, and he wanted to start beating his chest to stifle the feeling again. He himself served the Goddess of the Sea and Storm and truly revered her, but his own beliefs were miles away from what Mr. Hellcage felt for his god.

Then, however, doubt struck him. A new god meant trouble. It wouldn't be the first time something like this had happened. Some had been strangled from the start, but other gods had become too powerful to be disposed of so easily. That's why they were called Recognized Gods. The Recognized Gods are the ones who have been recognized by society and the others gods, so they don't aggressively war with each other and live in relative peace. Some gods still don't like each other, but they coexist.

But then there were the Evil Gods, who, while not numerous, held fast to their territory and their worshippers. Naturally, all these Evil Gods are a threat, trying to expand, to gain more believers. But Claude, in his position, already knew that the Evil Gods were not necessarily truly Evil.

They may well be benevolent gods, peaceful, but their powers may encroach on the domain of the Recognized Gods, and none of the Recognized Gods are willing to be replaced, so their Temples have it in their job description to destroy such new gods and their worshippers alike. In the case of believers in the Evil Gods, Temples naturally try to convert them to the true faith first but are silenced if they fail.

"Your God is an Evil God, isn't she?" Claude asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Mr. Hellcage laughed at this. "Evil? Well, indeed she is, but only to her enemies."

Claude swallowed, wondering if he should report the appearance of a new Evil God. The problem was that he didn't really know what kind of god she was or where her seat of power resided. Try to get it from Hellcage and Marik? It seemed impossible to him.

Perhaps Mr. Hellcage sensed his thoughts as he playfully uttered, "Do you want to become our enemy, little Cambion? Or would you rather be an ally?"

Claude straightened and frowned. "Mr. Hellcage, please stop implying such things. I will not betray my faith, nor the merciful Goddess of the Sea and Storm who has taken us among her own."

Hellcage shrugged as if he didn't care. "Truly merciful? And when did she accept you among her own? After you started cutting off your limbs?"

Claude swallowed his tongue, his expression momentarily bitter. He could not deny that Mr. Hellcage was right. The Goddess of the Sea and Storm might be merciful, but she made certain demands of her worshippers.

Hellcage, seeing Claude's expression, began to laugh in amusement. "You don't even have to answer. Your expression says it all." Hellcage placed his already empty cup of tea on the table.

"Help my Liege regain her strength, and she will bring Abraham back," he said suddenly, his light tone disappearing while he stared at Claude.

Claude's chin dropped when he heard that. He hadn't expected Mr. Hellcage to make such an offer. He thought he might rather want Claude to convert to his faith. Not that he would offer to bring their long-lost ancestor and god into this world.

"What... what... that... no. She can do that?" stuttered Claude, stunned. He was shocked. Could this new god do such a thing? Was it really real?

Hellcage couldn't stay serious after that question; he was amused, as if Claude had said something funny, so he laughed. "Of course, she can do it!"

Claude was stunned into silence, wondering if he should believe it. They could be just empty promises. But the fact that Mr. Hellcage knew his race at a glance, knew them, and knew about Mr. Abraham added to his trustworthiness.

Claude was suspicious, but he actually felt a little hope that Mr. Abraham might return. Claude was not a treacherous sort of man and would never leave the Goddess of the Sea and Storm for anyone else. Except Mr. Abraham. "What... what should I do? But be warned, I will not support anything that would harm other people." Claude finally couldn't resist his urge to at least try.

Mr. Hellcage smiled. "Don't worry. It won't do you any harm. Just turn your bodies into vessels for me for a while. I need to do some research."

Claude returned to the present and scratched his nose hesitantly. Mr. Hellcage was truly frightening. He didn't need to tell him what he was planning because he would never really know that he and the crew had become his vessels.

Even if he knew, he wouldn't find anything strange. He couldn't sense the presence of a strange existence in his body. This only made him more certain that Mr. Hellcage was not lying about his god, Liege as he called her, being powerful enough to bring back Mr. Abraham.

But he couldn't shake his doubts. And he probably won't get rid of them until he actually sees the results.

In the next cell, Abbess Leontine sat in an identical cell to Claude's, looking at Apostle Vianis, who sat opposite her with her eyes closed, holding her hands over a gold and silver inlaid bowl full of sea water.

Leontine watched as the drop of blood she had placed in the water swirled around before her blood dissipated, and the water turned black as a mirror.

Apostle Vianis opened her eyes, and both Leontine and she leaned over the bowl, looking at the black surface.

After a moment, several red dots appeared on the black surface—staring and unblinking red eyeballs that gazed chaotically in all directions before suddenly merging into a single red eyeball that filled the entire black surface of the water. Inside the dark pupils, they could see a flickering blue flame. All of this, the two women could see in a matter of seconds before the surface turned black again, becoming jelly-like and shrinking as if someone had released a balloon.

Vianis straightened up and rubbed the bridge of her nose with a sigh. "Failure. We can't learn anything from this."

Leontine lowered her head. "My apologies, Apostle Vianis." She excused herself, and Vianis merely waved her hand.

"It's not your fault, Leontine. Whatever possessed you was very powerful, or its primary ability is stealth." Vianis pushed the bowl aside and stared at the grim-faced Leontine.

"According to the results of the investigation, only you were possessed. Young Dean Claude is unharmed, and so is your entire crew. We've looked into the whole matter, and there are only two possibilities. Either something came from the Border Mist without you noticing, or it happened on contact with the ship that left the Border Mist. Despite going through all the security procedures, it's possible that it managed to escape detection due to its high cloaking capabilities."

Leontine was relieved that no one was hurt. She knew well how dangerous these oddities were. They could have easily caused everyone to lose their lives. Fortunately, this thing obviously had no combat or killing abilities.

"What about the crew of the Fast Wave? Chances are they're in danger." Leontine lifted her head, concerned. She thought of the two children and inwardly shuddered at the thought of them being possessed by such an evil creature.

Apostle Vianis nodded thoughtfully. "It is quite possible. The Hand of Storm's blessing didn't reveal anything bad about them, and that's a blessing based purely on detection. Observation didn't show anything either... you said the Captain had to throw some of his crew off the ship because of corruption? There's a good chance it was one of them after the Border Fog disfigured them." Vianis mused.

"We'll send word to our temples and search for them. It hasn't been that long, and we might be able to confirm their situation." Apostle Vianis nodded to herself in agreement.

"But now back to you, Abbess Leontine. You will all be released in a few days; we need to be sure of your condition. But surely you understand that this incident will not go without consequences. Once the investigation is complete, the case will be judged by the Stool of the Partiarchs. But you can expect at least three months of suspension." Vianis said.

Leontine sighed and nodded. This wasn't exactly the shining moment in her career she had imagined. But temporary suspension was still a better outcome than demotion, which was also a possibility. If the Stool of the Patriarchs recognized that she had made a mistake, it could still happen.

Leontine was a little depressed, but at least she was alive to tell the story. The experience would only make her stronger. For now, she could at least cheer herself up with the thought of a vacation. Three months is a long time. Maybe she could go on some sort of expedition on her own.

Peril Harbor
House on 22nd Street

Hellcage, Marik, Ellar, Dali, and Leo stood in what was once the dining room, looking at the brand new altar that had just been completed.

A few days had passed; Ellar, someone marginally involved in the business world and also an artist, knew a few people and had enlisted a good sculptor and stone mason. The stone itself was expensive, especially in a place like this, but thanks to Hellcage, who somehow mysteriously obtained the money, it wasn't a problem.

Finally, before long, the job was finished, and the two men left richer and more confused because they didn't remember where they had gotten the money.

Now everyone admired their work. "It's perfect," Ellar said, smiling.

Hellcage nodded. "It's worthy of our Liege."

Marik looked at the two and then back at the altar. It truly summed up their Liege. It had the same spirit he had seen at the End of the World. Why, though, could he not shake the feeling that it was still a little gloomy? At least he'd made Hellcage not put any questionable symbols there.

The altar resembled a classic Victorian-style dressing table in shape, only bigger and made of stone. The sculptor had taken great care with the carvings, and according to Marik, the altar could easily match the altars in the great cathedrals. The fine engraving on the stone resembled flames, but there were other symbols that Marik could not quite place. In the center of the altar was a large intricate ornament painted in gold, and in the center was a glass lens.

Hellcage walked over to the altar and placed both hands on its center. His shoulders trembled slightly, but the others couldn't see exactly what he was doing. The carvings on the altar began to glow a slight blue, and the glass surface in the center suddenly turned black, igniting a blue flame.

"Ooohhh."

"Wow."

The children were excited and even started clapping as the altar now looked mystical and magical.

Hellcage stepped back and inspected the altar before nodding in satisfaction. "It's finally done. Brothers and sisters. Now we can do some real work." He turned to the others and spread his arms wide a little theatrically, as if welcoming them.

"This is the beacon of our goddess's power. Through it, our Liege can better receive your prayer and loyalty, and her influence will slowly begin to spread. But we still need to bring in more and more new believers." Hellcage lowered his hands and touched his wylinndr, to which he tapped.

"And we have our first target." He said with a smile.

Marik wasn't surprised; it was true that things had been quiet lately, and Hellcage had done most of the exploring while Marik took care of the children, cleaning, and then dealing with the altar issues.

"And what is the target?" Marik asked, actually looking forward to them starting to do what they came here to do. Being a househusband was never something he was comfortable with, even with his own daughter.

"Let's go visit the Wendigo community." Hellcage replied.

Ellar and Marik were confused. The children, meanwhile, didn't listen to the adults and went to look at the altar up close.

"Wendigo Community?" Ellar repeated. Even though he lived here, he had never heard of such a thing.

"Wendigo? Aren't those the flesh-eating spirits?" Marik was more informed, but he was confused. Wendigo have communities?

Hellcage chuckled softly. "Indeed."

Marik rolled his eyes at how Hellcage was playing mysterious again. Indeed? Indeed what? Couldn't Hellcage be more specific? Are they really flesh-eating ghosts?

Marik then looked at the two children who were curiously touching the altar. Marik had a feeling that the Wendigo wouldn't be what he imagined them to be after all. Marik smelled something and looked at Hellcage, who was watching him, looking satisfied.

"You are wiser. You're becoming more mature." He complimented.

Marik was surprised and then flattered by the praise. But then he paused and squinted his eyes suspiciously. "You know I'm a parent, and my child is an adult, right?"

"That has nothing to do with maturity, little adorer," Hellcage replied. "Keep your mouth shut and just accept the praise."

Peril Harbor

Wendigo Hidden Community

Even though it was daytime, the room was dark, with only a few rays of sunlight penetrating through the heavy curtains. The room was subtly lit with dim electric lights to make it pleasant on the eyes. Lavishly decorated, the walls featured a clean white tapestry with a black spiky print, and the dark wood furniture was polished to reflect one's image.

A clean carpet covered the floor, and cushioned chairs surrounded a central table large enough for six people. However, only two humanoid creatures sat on the padded chairs. These beings had animalistic features, with majestic antlers on their heads, faces resembling a mix between a dog and a deer, three long and sharp fingers on their hands, and hooves instead of human feet.

The Wendigo woman, identified by her body proportions and dress style, had greyish white fur and bright orange eyes. Her antlers were on the smaller side with a sleek white shape, and she wore a luxurious white dress with a red bodice and trim. The male Wendigo, with black fur, wide and majestic brown antlers, and red eyes, wore a perfectly pressed tuxedo with gold embroidery, a white shirt, and a red tie.

With calm movements, they cut off remaining pieces of meat from the lunch served before them. Despite their monstrous appearance, their dining etiquette was perfect. However, it was hard to overlook the fact that they were consuming a human torso, covered in spices to suppress the rotten aftertaste. Due to the hidden nature of their community, the Wendigo could not have a regular supply of fresh meat, relying on preservation methods to keep their food digestible.

The Wendigo man sighed, putting down his cutlery and wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Five months seems to be as far as we can go with preservatives. You couldn't eat it without the condiments," he commented.

The Wendigo woman nodded while chewing on a morsel in torment. "When a few homeless people or whores disappear, no one notices, but our population has increased again. The community is starting to demand more than we can afford to give out," she added.

"Can't we reopen the question of relocating the community?" she asked.

"There is nowhere to move to, my dear. Peril Harbor is unfortunately the most god-free place. You can go beg to one of the gods if you want. I'll have a nice memorial built for you," the man replied.

The woman snorted and looked at their lunch on the table before rubbing her upset stomach. "Then let's pour more money into our researchers and hope they come up with some... ah!" she exclaimed as the torso on their table moved and suddenly opened its eyes. Both Wendigo jumped in fright.

The head slowly turned from side to side, each glassy eye looking in a different direction, one even rolling unnaturally in its socket. "What... what... ah! What's wrong?" the Wendigo woman exclaimed.

"I don't know! The body is already old, and we've taken every precaution to make sure it can't be zombified!" the Wendigo man said, picking himself up off the ground, and they both backed away from the table.

The dead man's eyes stopped moving, the whites turning black, and it was filled with many red pupils. The corpse opened its mouth. "Tomorrow, prepare for a visit from the honored emissaries of the Goddess of the Unwanted and Forgotten," it announced.

The dead man spoke only so many words before going limp again, and a black liquid gushed out of his open mouth, evaporating on its own. "Goddess of the Unwanted and Forgotten?" the Wendigo man repeated in confusion.

"'Emissaries'?" the Wendigo woman also repeated, and the two looked at each other in confusion and shock.