Chapter Two~

    Grimes was finishing his evening patrol. He was the head of defense within his sect of the city; The Western Quarter. This area mainly consisted of large catacombs, and stone tunnels leading to the more inner city. This, being a bordering area, was home to a much darker side of things. It bordered a “No-Zone”; Areas deemed unfit for villages to be constructed  within. These were places mappers, and explorers, and expansionists had rarely returned from, generally for unknown reasons.

    The Reddish-Orange sunset dimly lit the streets as Grimes walked, his leather boots crunching against the cracked up, gravel-like street cobble. This most certainly wasn’t the nicest part of the Western Quarter at all. However, at this time of the day, Grimes had a decent chance of finding something...interesting.

     He looked above to the surrounding wall-like structures. Men in black, night cloaks were setting up massive crossbows above said walls. The external gates were locked, the grinding of gears and steel echoing throughout the city. Church bells rang, marking Curfew. At this time, everyone was required to stay indoors, and off the streets, due to the extreme levels of macabre activity occurring within the nights.

    Only a few weeks back, Grimes and his enforcement squad had to investigate a scene in which several young adults had suspectedly snuck out past Curfew. This image, like countless others, was burned in his mind. Ingrained in his soul. There were three of them. Men, probably. The bodies were brutally mutilated. Two had their limbs, scalps, and internal organs removed, some of which weren’t existent at the scene. The other one was stabbed several times in the chest, blood smeared in ritualistic patterns above him, on the wall the victim was propped up against. It was expected to be some form of gruesome sacrifice, unsure of what, or whom to.

     Grimes walked swiftly through an approaching dark corridor to get back home for the night. He’d been aging, his shift time decreasing with that. Wind swept across his wrinkled face as he reached the exit of the tunnel...dropping to his knees. A knife in his throat.