As they made their way through the dingy streets of Gallows Row, Seraphine couldn't help but wonder what the two of them looked like—two well-dressed people strolling through the slums, clearly out of place. She felt conspicuous, despite Levy's assurances that they blended in.

Seraphine wore a long black coat with a hood pulled up over her head, hoping to conceal her face and identity from any unsavory characters that might be lurking about. She had strapped several daggers to her person—just in case.

Levy walked beside her, his hands in his pockets, whistling softly under his breath. He seemed oblivious to the stares and whispers they received as they passed by. Seraphine wished she could share his carefree attitude, but she couldn't help but feel like they were walking into a lion's den—one wrong move, and they'd end up as prey.

"There it is," Levy said, pointing to a ramshackle building with a sign that read "The Dancing Pony". The windows were boarded up, and the door hung slightly off its hinges. It looked like it hadn't seen use in years.

Seraphine couldn't believe they'd actually come here. There was no way this was going to end well.

"This is it?" Seraphine asked, staring dubiously at the run-down tavern. "Are you sure we're in the right place?"

Even Levy looked a bit uncertain now. He scratched the back of his neck, a sheepish expression on his face. "I... I think so? I got the tickets from a friend of a friend, so I'm not really sure. But I'm pretty sure this is it."

She gave him an exasperated look. "Levy, if this is some kind of joke, it isn't funny."

"It's not a joke," he assured her. "That friend of a friend happened to be a fellow with exquisite taste in music, and if he said this place would have an entertaining show, I trust him."

Seraphine sighed and shook her head. "You're impossible."

They approached the tavern's entrance, a half-rotted door hanging on rusted hinges. Levy pushed it open, revealing quite a spacious interior. Despite the outside looking like it was about to fall apart, inside, it seemed fairly well-maintained.

There were several round tables scattered about, each surrounded by a few chairs. A bar sat at one end of the room, with a burly bartender standing behind it. There was a small stage at the other end, and several people milled about in front of it, chatting excitedly.

As they stepped inside, Seraphine noticed that the tavern was surprisingly full for such a shady-looking place. Levy seemed unfazed by this and made his way toward the bar. Seraphine followed, feeling increasingly out of place among the rough-looking patrons.

"What can I get ye?" the bartender asked, eyeing them suspiciously. "And what are ye doin' here? This ain't no place for fancy folk like you."

Levy gave the man a disarming smile. "Just here to see the show, my good man. And maybe have a drink or two while we're at it."

The bartender's expression didn't change, but he reached under the counter and produced two glasses and a bottle of some unknown liquor. He poured the drinks and pushed them toward Levy and Seraphine.

"There ye go," he said gruffly. "Now, go sit down and don't cause any trouble."

Levy took the drinks and handed one to Seraphine, who accepted it reluctantly. They found an empty table near the back corner of the room and sat down. Seraphine glanced around nervously, still feeling like they were drawing far too much attention to themselves.

"Would you relax?" Levy chided her in a hushed tone. "You're making us look even more out of place than we already do."

Seraphine shot him an annoyed look. "Easy for you to say—you're not the one who feels like they have a target painted on their back."

Just as she said that, a group of shady-looking individuals walked past them, giving them appraising glances. Levy ignored them and took a sip of his drink, but Seraphine couldn't help but wince inwardly.

She looked down at her drink, swirling the amber liquid around in her glass.

"Don't drink anything until I've checked it for poison," she whispered to Levy. "You never know what might be in this swill."

Levy rolled his eyes but didn't protest. "You're the boss," he said with a shrug.

The time Seraphine spent studying alchemy and experimenting with various concoctions had honed her senses when it came to herbs and potions. She dipped her pinky finger into her drink and swirled it around, smelling the mixture. It smelled faintly of juniper berries and maybe a bit of cedar. She touched her pinky to her tongue and tasted the mixture. It had a sharp bite and a lingering aftertaste that reminded her of pine.

"It's safe," she told Levy, "but it won't win any awards for flavor."

They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping their drinks and observing the crowd. There seemed to be an equal mix of rough-looking men and women, as well as a few well-dressed individuals like themselves. No one paid them any undue attention, and Seraphine started to relax a little. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Just then, a hush fell over the crowd as a woman walked onto the stage.

To say that the woman dressed in a rather risque manner would be an understatement. She wore a sheer, black, corseted top with intricate lacework that exposed her ample cleavage. A pair of... daringly short leather trousers that ended just at the thigh hugged her curves and accentuated her shapely legs—leaving little to the imagination. Her feet were adorned with high-heeled boots that made her appear even taller than she already was.

The woman's jet-black hair cascaded down her back in a waterfall of shadows. Her makeup was dark and dramatic, with smoky eyeshadow and blood-red lips that curled into a smirk.

Although Seraphine didn't pay much attention to fashion or beauty beyond the practical, she couldn't help but feel a bit scandalized by the woman's attire. However, judging by the cheers and whistles from the crowd, she seemed to be exactly what they wanted.

Crimson eyes surveyed the growing audience, lingering on Seraphine for a moment. The woman's eyes went wide and she nearly stumbled, but she quickly recovered and continued her strut across the stage.

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Hold on. She looked... familiar—the woman Seraphine had saved from the Murmuros the night before.

Levy leaned closer to her and whispered, "Isn't that the same woman you helped last night? The one who was nearly devoured by that monster?"

"I think so," Seraphine whispered back, trying not to stare at the woman too intently. "But how did she end up here?"

Soon, more members of the band arrived, taking their places on stage.

A tall, broad-shouldered figure took his place behind a drum set, enshrouded in a thick, hooded robe that obscured much of his form. Seraphine couldn't see the figure's face beneath the cowl of the hood, but she could feel the weight of his gaze as he surveyed the audience.

Next, a man in an elaborate mask and heavily tailored garments took his place on stage, holding a guitar. His attire seemed intentionally excessive, covering every inch of skin. The mask was particularly ornate, a façade of polished brass and intricate gears, glinting under the stage lights. There was an elegance to his movements, a rhythm that seemed almost too perfect, too calculated to be entirely human.

Lastly, a slight, almost fragile-looking figure stepped into the dim spotlight. Her appearance was markedly less flamboyant than the first, but no less striking. Her clothing was simple—a black tunic and trousers, both loose and flowing—but her features held a haunting beauty. Her skin was pale and almost translucent. Her hair, like a curtain of seaweed, fell around her shoulders in a tangle of matted strands. She carried a violin case in one hand and a bow in the other.

Despite her graceful demeanor, there was a faint, almost imperceptible tremor in her movements—a shadow that seemed at odds with her luminous presence.

Seraphine felt a prickling sense of curiosity as she watched them tune their instruments and prepare. There was something unmistakably off about the group. It wasn’t just their eclectic dressing or the obscure way some of them concealed their identities; it was the way they moved, the way they held themselves. Even from a distance, they exuded a sense of otherworldliness, as if they were simply going through the motions of what it meant to be human.

The four performers looked out at the crowd, then back at each other. The woman from the night before motioned for her bandmates to huddle together and began whispering something to them. Seraphine couldn't hear what was said, but the man in the elaborate mask glanced over at her briefly.

A shiver ran down her spine.

As they stepped away from each other, the woman spoke to the crowd, her voice clear and confident. "Thank you all for coming out tonight. We are 'Unhallowed Harmony'. Are you ready to rock?"

The crowd roared its approval, and the band launched into their first song.

To Seraphine's surprise, the music wasn't what she expected. Instead of screeching divas wailing on the stage, the sound that came from the band was like nothing she'd ever heard before—though that wasn't saying much, as her knowledge of music ended with an occasional stroll around the city and listening to street performers on her patrols.

The crimson-eyed woman's voice was a smoky growl that echoed through the room, mixing with the cacophony of sounds coming from the rest of the band. It was chaotic, but in a strangely beautiful way. The man in the elaborate mask played his guitar with precision, his fingers flying across the strings in a blur of motion. The other woman swayed gracefully, her bow gliding over the strings of her violin as she joined in with her own melody. And the figure behind the drums kept a steady beat, driving the music forward with relentless intensity.

The crowd was oblivious to the oddities, caught up in the performance's allure. But Seraphine couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. She found herself watching the band members carefully, trying to discern their true nature. Were they really what they appeared to be? Or was there something else lurking beneath the surface?

Levy, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. He bobbed his head along with the music and tapped his foot in time to the beat. When the woman from the night before hit a particularly high note, he cheered and clapped enthusiastically.

As the song continued, Seraphine felt herself getting drawn in as well. There was something captivating about the performance, something that drew her in and held her spellbound. The crowd seemed to feel it too, dancing and cheering as the band played on.

The more she watched and listened, the more Seraphine realized that she couldn't quite pinpoint what made the music so unique and intriguing. It wasn't just the odd sounds or the strange melodies; there was something else, something intangible. Something almost... ethereal.

As the song drew to a close, the woman at the front of the stage raised her hand and paused for dramatic effect. Then, with a flourish, she let out a guttural scream that echoed through the room and ended the song.

The crowd went wild, cheering and applauding loudly. Levy whooped and clapped along, a broad smile on his face. He glanced over at Seraphine and gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

Seraphine couldn't help but admit that they were good, even if she had no frame of reference for this type of music. She didn't know what it was about the performance that made her feel so off-balance, but it wasn't necessarily bad. It was just... different.

The next set of songs kept Seraphine on the edge of her seat. The songs weren't particularly fast or loud, but they had an intensity and passion that kept the audience enraptured. And, to her surprise, she found herself enjoying the music more and more as the set progressed.

Eventually, their last performance built to a crescendo, the music swelling in a rush that seemed to fill every crevice of the room. Seraphine found herself caught up in the sound, her analytical mind momentarily overtaken by the sheer force of the auditory experience. Yet, even as she allowed herself this moment of abandonment, her gaze continued to flit across the stage, piecing together the incongruities that nagged at her.

As the final notes lingered in the air, applause broke out, thunderous and enthusiastic. The band members acknowledged the crowd, their gestures gracious yet contained, always mindful of the personas they projected. As they retreated from the stage, the figure in the hooded robe paused, his stance shifting in a way that suggested a momentary lapse in his guarded posture.

The fleeting change was almost imperceptible to anyone not trained to observe as she was, but to her, it was a telling slip—a crack in the façade that hinted at the true nature beneath.

For a fleeting second, Seraphine's sharp gaze caught sight of what lay hidden under the thick layers—a hint of stone-like skin that seemed too rigid and textured to be human flesh. The sight was brief but unmistakable, and it sent a jolt of apprehension through her. What exactly had she stumbled into?

Even as the figure quickly adjusted his robe, smoothly concealing the anomaly with a practiced gloved hand, the image was seared into Seraphine’s mind. The way his skin had caught the light, not reflecting it but absorbing it with an unnatural matte quality, was distinctly non-human.

As the applause continued, Seraphine nudged Levy. "Did you see that?" she asked, keeping her voice low. "The one in the hood?"

Levy looked at her quizzically. "See what?"

"His skin," she said urgently. "It wasn't... right. It was like stone or something."

Levy's eyes widened, and he glanced toward the stage. "You think they're all..." He didn't finish the sentence, but Seraphine knew what he meant.

She nodded, her suspicions confirmed. There was something very unusual about this band, and she needed to find out what it was.

"We need to get closer," she whispered, already rising from her seat. "Come on."

She started toward the stage, weaving through the crowd of applauding patrons. Levy followed close behind, looking a bit apprehensive.

As soon as they reached the edge of the stage, the beads and baubles of her bracelet began to vibrate, emanating an eerie hum that prickled against her skin. She came to an abrupt halt, eyes widening in alarm.

Her suspicions had been correct—the bracelet detected the presence of Unhallowed nearby. And based on the intensity of the reaction, it was more than one.

She nodded to Levy, who gave her a grim look. Without another word, they turned and pushed their way through the crowd, heading for the exit.

Before those Unhallowed musicians could get away with whatever nefarious plans they had, Seraphine intended to put a stop to them.