As Seven stood up, his eyes jumped from the broken wall to the man in the middle of what remained of the parlor. The intruder was crouched over Number Eighty-seven, violet blood gushing from where his hand pierced the boy's chest.

The child had been too slow to avoid the attack, but he didn't go down without a fight. Black oozed out of the stranger's arm as two daggers bit into his flesh. The boy, his breath labored, coughed up blood as the light faded from his eyes.

He might have survived if azure had flowed through his veins. As those blessed by Aegis could shrug off nearly any blow, at least for a short while.

The figure stood, pulling out his hand. His silver gauntlet was dyed purple, the blood dripped onto the wooden floor. As he pulled out the daggers embedded in his flesh, the wounds hissed as they began to close.

He regarded the other fingers from behind his silver mask shaded by a midnight cowl. Seven was sure that the eyes beneath were the darkest shade of black.

The uninvited guest was a Nocturne. They were the lords of the night, and this one was not alone. Two more stepped through the hole in the wall, strolling over the debris. So, even the mad king had joined the fray.

Their new guests paused as Seventeen stepped forward with his remaining hand resting on his pommel. Number ten cocked his head as he ran his right thumb over a small cut across his cheek. The wound bled crimson.

Sixteen remained seated, watching a game that didn't exist. The woman paid no attention to the shards of glass embedded in her face. She may not have even noticed.

Like Six, she had served in the Schism. Like Six, she played host to an abomination. Like Six, she was an Abhorrent, and Abhorrents don't bleed. The two weren't the only ones. To make proper use of those with thinner blood, Providence gave them to the nightmares.

As tension mounted, the mother of monsters strode into the wrecked living room with Twelve following behind. There was hunger beneath the cold eyes that swept over the room. Ignoring Eighty-seven's corpse, Six raised a brow as her gaze fell on the Nocturne.

Outside Solaris, an encounter with the lords of the night was as rare as a phoenix's feather. Without the express permission of the crown, they were not allowed to leave the capital.

While the chosen with gold in their veins were blessed by the sun, those with black blood were empowered from dusk. They peaked at midnight and gradually dwindled to embers before winking out at dawn. Thus, they guarded the throne when it was at its weakest.

But, they were as much of a threat as they were a boon. So, they were collard by restriction upon restriction, with their choices tied to the crown. The throne's control of their lives was absolute. Their choices were not their own.

As descendants of Selene, the sister of Helios, they shared a common ancestry with the children of the sun. Sadly, while one group reigned as kings, the other lived as glorified servants, atoning for the forgotten sins of their ancestors.

'How do you think they found us?' Six signed, turning her gaze from the Nocturne to Seven.

'Were you followed?' Ten added, but with a pointed look from Seven, he lowered his head.

'I don't think little Seven would be that careless.' Six replied. 'Would you?'

It was a jest. There was suspicion, but it was muted.

Seven narrowed his eyes. A response true to his character.

'We can discuss this further after dealing with the king's dogs.' He answered.

The room grew still, and the silence stretched before being suddenly broken by a gentle chime. Twelve rang the golden bell again, and Sixteen stood up.

Everything happened at once. With inhuman speed, she lashed out, grasping for the intruder closest to her. The man leapt back, avoiding her touch. She stared blankly clutching a heart that was no longer there and then she squeezed.

Meanwhile, Seventeen's blade was a blur of black, whistling towards the neck of the foe closest to him. His opponent had turned his back, trusting his partner would deal with Sixteen. Using the gauntlet of his left hand, the man tried to deflect.

Seventeen's sword ate through metal and cut flesh. But, his foe wasn't rattled. Ignoring the wound, he drew out a knife and prepared to counter. Twelve rushed out from behind Six like a bolt of lightning.

He had a black dagger in his right hand and a white handkerchief in his left. Emerald lines that seemed to dance under the light decorated the cloth. The Nocturne was caught off guard but managed to dodge the blow. Still, Twelve was able to nick him, and that was enough.

He laid out the cloth across his right wrist, and using the blood-stained dagger, Twelve began to paint. In the meantime Seventeen kept the enemy busy delivering blow after blow, forgoing defense. He was a bladed tempest, though his strikes lacked force. But, they were blindingly fast.

The painting was complete within seconds, and Twelve pulled a razor from between his lips and slid it across his neck.

At almost the same time, the two intruders crumpled like puppets with their strings cut. One clasped his severed neck with both hands, trying to hold back the stream of black. The other clutched his chest now a cage for his crushed heart.

The last Nocturne froze. Even with his back to his companions, his heightened senses painted a vague picture of what had happened. Wood ruptured as Ten's meaty palm tore through the floor, narrowly missing his target as the man leaned back.

The darkness had sapped his strength, but Seven knew how to seize opportunities. He had begun moving as Ten wound up his attack. As he followed through on Ten's assault the Nocturne was forced to pivot and turned to face him. A fatal mistake.

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The sickening sound of ripping flesh echoed through the room as the man was torn in two. It was over in the blink of an eye as Six called back the thing that lurked in her shadow.

Less than a minute had passed since the arrival of their uninvited guests.

'We'll split up into two teams.' Six began, ignoring the corpses.

'Ten, Twelve, Sixteen and Seventeen, you'll head south.' She signed, heading for the hole in the wall and the others followed.

'Seven, you're with me.' There was no room for argument.

'Oh, and Seven?' She paused, 'Stray too far, and I'll kill you.' She added, looking back at him with a smile.

He did not take the threat likely, for in the dark, she may be able to keep that promise.

As they stepped into the night, they saw shadows shift and eyes open. The fingers scattered, bolting through black. The chase began.

***

The moon watched as ghosts danced across the rooftops. Nameless men scoured the streets and shadows slithered in the alleys. They were all racing through the veins of the sleeping city.

Seven struggled to keep up with Six, though he hated to admit it. Still, they moved quickly with the thing in her shadow clearing the obstacles in their path. Occasionally, he caught glimpses of the creature or creatures, it was hard to tell.

Claws that cut through steel like butter, jet black fur woven from strands of pain and what he could swear were a hundred maws, each capable of swallowing a man whole. The beast, a nightmare made flesh, left carnage in its wake. Torn limbs, broken corpses and murals of blood.

The worst part about abominations was how they disregarded natural laws. For some, concepts like distance were mere suggestions. For others, time was a coat they could don or shed at whim.

It was a unique kind of horror, fighting a foe that could make your mind bleed or peel back your flesh if you looked into its eyes. These were among the few fears that could still find purchase in Seven's heart.

Fortunately, the creatures could not dwell within this realm without a host, and binding themselves to another was a weakness. It tied a part of them to the laws they so disdained. And through that piece, they could be hurt, even killed.

Thus, one had to wonder why some went through with it. Was it the allure of blood? Did they wish to escape the madness of their realm? Or were their reasons more esoteric? Were they beyond our comprehension?

A single blow with enough force could take out Six and end the beast living in her shadow. Sadly, he didn't have enough raw power to carry out such a task.

As the night wore on, the thing in Six's shadow was leaving fewer corpses behind as the woman's breath grew shallow. Things got so much worse at midnight.

The Nocturne were a force of nature that even the beast found hard to contend with. They could not fight, only run as the lords of the night herded them along. They drove them towards the other hunters, whom they were forced to dispatch, growing weaker with each clash.

'Earn your keep, boy.' Six had signed as they began cutting down the hunters in their way.

It was a chaotic dance, with each group moving to the sound of their own beat.

Six was a ravenous wolf, eviscerating all that stood in her path. While Seven was a gentle sea, flowing around his foes and drowning them quietly. But they weren't the only ones doing the killing.

An enemy of an enemy was not always a friend. The shadows tore into each other, and the specters stabbed themselves in the back.

The lords of the night nipped at their heels, eager to take a bite. Seven's lungs burned, and his muscles ached. Familiar pains.

The two fingers turned a corner and found a woman surrounded by three corpses. It was hard to tell if the two had caught her off guard, as her posture gave nothing away, and they could make no inferences from her expression as she had no face.

Whether a god or a demon, Providence's identity was up for debate. But, it wasn't the only one of its kind. The servant of Rapture slowly walked towards them, holding a decapitated head.

The pupils in its bloodshot eyes were pinpricks. The mouth was wide open, locked in a soundless scream. Seven quickly identified the wretch's corpse. It was garbed in baggy robes decorated by murals painted in blood.

The other two corpses were dressed similarly, the only difference being the color of the ichor that dyed their clothes. The corpse without a head favored silver and azure. His compatriot, a woman with what seemed to be pale blond hair, preferred crimson and violet. While the last used silver and emerald.

They were priests of Avantgarde. They were blood painters. While not as frighteningly esoteric as the abominations, their methods were a pain to deal with. Fortunately, few were as dangerous as Twelve.

But still, you could never tell where their limits lay. As a whole, the scope of their skills was almost infinite. Though each painter only had access to a small number of said abilities.

One of their techniques allowed them to track individuals based on minor things, from a whispered name to a handwriting. That's why Seven sent them a letter. The game couldn't start if the players couldn't find the board.

He was pretty sure the Nocturne had used them to locate him and the other fingers. The only question was whether the two parties were cooperating or if information had been wrenched out of the priests by force.

Six and Seven took a moment to examine the woman closer. The two glanced at each other. With a slight nod, they turned and ran the other way. The woman without a face gave chase.

The servants of Rapture were Abhorrents one and all. They were amongst the few that could go toe to toe with the fingers. Six and Seven could not afford to get bogged down by a prolonged fight.

'I think we should split up.' Seven signed.

Six ignored him.

The chase continued, lasting for hours. As more hunters joined the fray, just as many permanently fell away. Along the way Seven caught several glimpses of men and women with midnight eyes. They were now struggling to keep up. It was still dark, but dawn was approaching.

Stride for Stride Seven now kept pace with Six. Suddenly, he turned a corner, forcing her to do the same. She fell back a few paces because of that. He turned another and then another, not once looking back.

Suddenly, he felt a stabbing pain at his side. Six was not happy. He was playing a dangerous game here. But he was so close, and at worst, he would lose his life. He'd either succeeded, or die. Any other outcome was too terrifying to think about.

The warehouses and factories loomed over them in the industrial zone. Out of the corner of his eye, Seven saw a man charging at him from the side. He was grateful for the small fortune.

He did not resist as the assailant tackled him. The air rushed out of his lungs, and he felt a few ribs crack. Then he hit the wall, and his side exploded in pain.

Slowly, Seven stood up, shaking his head to get rid of the ringing in his ear. His mouth tasted of metal. He took a painful breath and was greeted by the pungent odour of burnt matches. The smell of hearthstone. He was so lucky.

The embers of joy were quickly drenched as his teeth rattled and his lips split while pain radiated across his face. He'd been caught off guard by the punch. Death was closer than he originally thought.

Seven leapt back, gaining distance and finding his bearings. More figures barged in. Six and two more servants of Rapture.

'Damn'

There were also three Nocturne, five blood painters and an assortment of other ghosts, specters, monsters and nightmares, twenty individuals in all.

Pandemonium ensued. It was everyone for themselves. At a point, Seven was sent barreling into a pile of wooden crates. The boxes shattered, their contents spilling out.

Dust rose from the broken pieces of hearthstone. The rocks were a dull yellow, like the color of dried grass. They were used in forges to clean and sharpen blades.

On its own, it was harmless. But add tunnel weed and a spark, and you could get some crazy explosions. However, one would need massive amounts of both for the results to be lethal. Aside from the small packet in the folds of Seven's cloak, there was no tunnel weed in the warehouse.

Seven also had a packet of raking yeast, neon scabs, redding tongues, and twelve other ingredients. Each could be explosively combined with at least one of the hundreds of substances stored in the warehouses across the district.

But by far, the most valuable thing was the Fractal, the broken piece of reality mined from the Schism. Getting a hold of it had been a struggle. But it was worth it.

Neither solid, liquid, nor gas, the thing twisted and turned but did not move. A manifestation of shattered impossibility.

Seven used his blade to create a spark as he brought the tunnel weed to the hearthstone. As the white flame roared to life, he threw in the Fractal. There were rumors, but he didn't really know what to expect.

Time slowed to a crawl. Seven called on the azure in his blood as the blinding light washed over him. Oblivion kissed his skin. Its lips were warm. But, it was by no means a gentle lover. There was a roar that drowned out the other screams.

The pain was sudden and came in full force. Stomach wrenching, unrelenting, condescending.

He felt his blood bubble and boil. His bones splintered and cracked. He felt his nerves scream and mind begin to fry.

Then he felt nothing and in the end, he knew darkness.