The chill is numbing. 

The feeling of fire creeping up Lunette's knuckles and up into her arms was almost more than she could bear. Nevertheless, she kept walking.

It was a crisp winter dusk. Frost crept along the stone roads, making Lunette's boots click and clack with every step. Even in the bustling commotion of the city around her, she could hear her shoes with every step she took. Perhaps it was the sound she needed to keep her mind off of the fact that she was carrying two suitcases full of blood.

She walked. Her fists tightened around the leather hand straps of the large packages. Contraband, illegal blood trade, treason. Call it what you like, but what Lunette was doing was prohibited to the core of everything the land of Opera held dear. Trading blood, human hands to human hands, without the commune of The Blood God was a grave, mortal sin. A sin that would damn even the most righteous to the depths of Hell itself.

Nevertheless… she walked.

Turning right and walking down a small alleyway, a couple of people shimmied by her, not sparing any excuse before Lunette emerged on the other side. It was a wide promenade, a stone walkway almost as far as the eye could see. At the end, towards the North, was the Great Ichorian Cathedral of Selene.

There were numerous cathedrals around the world of Opera, some small, others large, but the Cathedral of Selene was massive. It towered over every building in the city of Requiem and was pitch black. Some say it was built that way, that the bricklayers sowed their blood into each and every stone as they rose the tower higher. Others would tell you it was because of the candle soot covering every inch of the grand castle-like church.

No matter how you tried to imagine how it came to be, the fact of the matter was it was a grand, black mass in the middle of Requiem—a place where hundreds of thousands flock for forgiveness, guidance, and hope.

Would hope come one day? 

Lunette focused on the sounds of her boots falling over and over on the stone as she made her way toward the towering Cathedral. As she got closer to the black mass in the distance, it seemed to loom over her as if it had eyes and was watching her commit a grave and mortal sin. As if it knew what horrors she held in her hands.

To others in the streets, she looked like your run-of-the-mill Ichor Nun, transporting clothes or goods from the shop stalls back to the church. A good girl who would surely do or sow no wrong. She was even walking with a smile on her face as if the biting cold was nothing to her or the exposed skin on her hands.

The thought of the frost biting at her cuticles made her grip the suitcase handles tighter, picking up the pace as she approached the church. No one paid her any mind.

When Lunette was about a quarter of a mile from the Cathedral, she made a hard left and disappeared down another alleyway. Many game peddlers and dark stalls were quickly closing up at the sight of an Ichor Nun walking by. They wouldn't dare try to swindle a being of God. However, Lunette wasn't here to deal with them, and she didn't make a note to come back either. These people could do as they liked, swindle who they wanted, and beg until salvation came home.

Would salvation come?

The sounds of her boots were louder than ever in the compact alleyways. Twists and turns, she was getting farther and farther from the Cathedral with every turn she made, delving deeper into the dungeons of the back alleyways of Requiem.

Lunette made the small mistake of getting distracted by a small noise. Looking up into the sky, she locked eyes with a woman looking back down at her. While Lunette didn't stop walking, her breath hitched, and her gait faltered a moment.

The woman looking down upon her had one of her eyes covered with a mangy wrap of gauze, covered in black blood. While she was high up in the apartments above Lunette, she could still make out the bloodshot eye looking down at her; her mouth hung open as if she were nothing more than a panting dog.

Red blood trickled down her neck from the corners of her mouth.

Before Lunette could right herself and focus on the road ahead of her, the feeling of two hands grabbing her and quickly pulling her into an open door caught her by surprise. She didn't even have the time to holler out in retaliation before a hand slapped over her mouth.

Lunette thrashed in the abductors' hands, the sounds of the door she was so rudely pulled into slamming shut. Against the person's hand, she screamed, but her pleas fell on deaf ears. The hand was large and muffled any and every sound Lunette tried to make.

"Shhh! Quiet, stupid girl!"

Lunette did quiet down, but her breathing was ragged and hurried. Was she about to be killed? Her contraband stolen? Turned into the police? What would become of her?

These thoughts seemed to flow away when the hand was gently pulled away, the man that the hand was attached to walked over to a table and turned a gas lamp hinge to burn brighter. Lunette could only guess that this was her informant.

"I…" Lunette started, stopped, and then shifted from one foot to another. She was nervous as she had never committed a crime before, but she had come too far to not commit it now.

"I saw your ad in the papers." Lunette finally said, walking slowly towards the table.

The man who had abducted her took a seat at the table, folded his hands over one another under his chin, and gazed at her. 'Go on', he said with his eyes.

Lunette furrowed her brows and steeled her courage. This was going to either damn her to Hell or save the Human Race. Either way, in the eyes of the law, she was a traitor either way, so she pulled the suitcases up and onto the table, ready to be opened.

"Like I said, I saw your ad, and I wanted… I wanted to conduct a trade. Blood for your scripts."

"You can read Ichorian?" The man suddenly replied. His voice was deep but hoarse. He's lived a long time and seen many things and wasn't the kind to just sit around.

"I dabble," Lunette answered. "I can read the basics."

"I don't carry basic scripts. I carry Ichorian Script from over 9000 years ago." The man said, getting up from his chair.

The warmth of the home was starting to melt the cold away from Lunette's hands, but she still couldn't help but bunch her fingers into her smock in excitement. Nine thousand years! Even the act of running her fingers over the paper would be enough for her, but to read it! She had to stop herself from jumping up and down like an excited girl getting a doll for the first time.

"That's… rather old. How do you know it's that old?" Lunette asked, watching the old man pull one of the suitcases closer to him.

"It says on the paper."

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"You can read Ichorian too? I only know what the church teaches and a little more, but I heard that civilians weren't allowed to learn it."

While the old man unbuckled the straps to the suitcase, the sound of him huffing a laugh filled the space of the small apartment.

"Stupid girl, you will find that the Human spirit transcends the law. Men can speak and enforce, but the spirit will always win. What I want to learn, I will. You can understand that, I hope?"

Lunette bunched her hands tighter into her smock, raising it and showing her boots underneath without her realizing it. She nodded her head in a hearty motion.

"I do. I want to learn."

"Then we must do things like this." The old man finally unbuckled the last latch on the suitcase and flipped it open.

Rows and rows of blood vials. Some cracked, others leaking, spots and patches of blood soaking the silk within. These were old suitcases left to rot in the bottom of the Cathedral that no one would miss, but seeing some of the precious blood leaks into the material made her cringe. She hoped this wouldn't curse her deal and spoil her reward.

"Hmm…"

The old man was appraising, pulling a full vial from the suitcase and holding it up to the light. The blood was a thick, deep wine, not so much sloshing within the glass but slowly moving as if it had a will of its own.

Blood is a sacred liquid to the people of Opera, the road to communion with God, the pathway to Heaven, and the conduit of the righteous. The God of Humors, the God of Medicine, and the God of Humanities could not exist if it weren't for blood. Lunette knew transporting it as if it were nothing more than a slaughtered pig was sacrilegious at best and treasonous with the reward of death at worst.

However, the old man was looking at the liquid, inspecting it as if it were nothing more than a fine bottle of brandy. A good year at that. Then, he opened the phial, placing the cork on the table, and brought the glass to his face.

Lunette couldn't believe she was seeing blood so casually dripping on a table. How could this man eat here ever again? How could he sleep at night? Even though she was getting something out of this that would help Humans in the long run if she used it right, she would have nightmares about transporting this blood alone. But here was this old man simply letting blood drip onto his table.

"What tipped you off that I had Ichorian Text?" The old man asked, putting the cork back on the phial and placing it back into the suitcase, picking up another one.

"I shouldn't have read the black market ad, but I couldn't help myself. Someone from the Cathedral overheard me talking to another Sister about transcribing Ichorian Text, and he told me about you and your quest. I… knew where to get blood, and I desperately want to help Humans." Lunette answered, shifting from one foot to another in anxiety.

"You knew where to get blood?" The old man parroted.

Lunette didn't say anything, but when the old man looked over to her, she simply nodded sheepishly.

"Well, I know where to get Ichorian Text. Perhaps we can come to an agreement."

"What will you do with the blood?"

"What will you do with the Texts?"

Lunette didn't want to answer. Reading Ichorian Text outside of The Good Book was banned. Even Apostles and Patrons weren't allowed to do so, and they were the highest members of the Ichorian Church. If she was caught reading, no less speaking the Text, she would skip treason and be killed on the spot. 

However, there had to be a way to stop what was happening to the Human race within these texts. She had scoured every medical text she could, asked every doctor who visited the Cathedral, and has laid her hand on the afflicted more times than she would like to admit.

"I will help people." Lunette finally said. "The Star Plague has been written about since 10,000 years ago, but none of the modern texts in Basic discuss it. It comes in 10,000-year waves, and yet we have nothing to prevent it in the modern day. I believe these Texts will solve that problem."

"And you're fine with being a martyr then? Knowing that the truth may lead you to death in the end?"

"If it means we can continue to live without fear, I will carry that burden."

The old man laughed again.

"Stupid girl, you won't carry anything. You'll read, you'll tell someone you trust, and they'll betray you and keep it to themselves for coin. The Human Race is doomed."

"You don't know that!"

The silence that followed Lunette's outburst was deafening. The ticking of the clock on the wall was the only sound cutting through. Her once bunched hands were now fists at her sides and shaking.

"If I have to figure it out myself, I will, and I will keep it to myself. You can read Ichorian! Haven't you figured it out yet?" Lunette asked.

"Don't have the time. I'm just a simple Scholar, not a pretty little Ichorian Nun with nothing better to do."

The old man placed the vial back into the stained suitcase and moved to the back of the apartment, digging into a massive bookshelf. Lunette stayed where she stood, but leaned over to try and catch a glimpse of where the old man was digging. It was behind a couple of books, within a box, and wrapped in linen. He turned, pitched it across the room, and Lunette scrambled to catch it. She didn't want such delicate Text to fall on the ground.

"Go on, check it if you must. It's all there." The scholar pressed, moving back to the suitcases and opening the next one.

Lunette moved from the door to the other side of the apartment, taking a seat and unwrapping the Text in her lap. Sure enough, the feeble and cracking paper unfurled and raised from her lap, Lunette placing her hands under it, channeling her own blood to hold it at bay.

The Text glowed, pulsed with the seven colors of light, and was so compact, it would take her over a year to decipher it all. It was an Epic in one scroll and Lunette was almost salivating at the thought of sitting with it late at night, copying everything she was about to read into her own personal journals.

"This… This is…" Lunette couldn't find the words she wanted to say.

"Yes, Ichorian Text. Impossible to forge, written in The Old Blood."

Lunette channeled her own blood to close the scroll, quickly wrapping it back in the linen it came with. Standing up, she stuffed the linen deep under her smock, turning away from the scholar so that he didn't see her bloomers. She didn't really have any other place to put it where it wouldn't be seen right away but her pants.

"If you need more Text, you know where to find me, and you know what to bring." The scholar said.

"How much should I bring?" Lunette asked.

The scholar appraised another vial, placed it down, and shot Lunette a wry smile.

"More than this."