The wind raged through the bitterly cold night as the residents gathered in the city's square in a strange union, a protest.

Soldiers couldn't keep the secret asleep, and the grieving families of the abducted were in disbelief that the legions lied about their kins' death. The legions reputation was once smudged leading to the overthrowing of the previous king, Edmond. If the cycle were to repeat itself, and the current king would be led into his beloved dungeons, there would be no coming back from this chaos.

Whispers of these incidents have reached a dozen ears but not only by the faithful yet confused soldiers, it was tossed around by the vindictive surviving white sect members, the ones that refuse to go down no matter what.

I. Dark motives.

In the crowded city Square, a pat on a protestor's shoulder followed by a whisper was enough to fuel this supposedly peaceful protest. The pitchforks had risen and the torches were lit, anger was fueling through the rusty veins of Boneclad.

"The king has failed us!" They whispered, "Our sons and daughters were betrayed!" They claimed.

Those words were enough to enrage the protestors as they realized the legions had no plans of retrieving the abducted soldiers from the Mooncallers nest, assuming they were alive.

They were unreasonable demands planted in the minds of sorrowful grievers, floating like a cloud above their heads, sucked in by their skeptical ears.

The plan was working and the bomb had been planted, all that was left was the king's excuse.

The White Sect was vengeful, yet still unaware of what happened that night in the chapel. Luther was nowhere to be found as well as Abigail, it was believed that Abigail had rebelled and slain all those who captured her but the lack of remains for both Luther and Eman puzzled them. While their ongoing search went on, the legions' eyes were wide opened on the look for any suspicious activity or individual, fully aware that the Mooncallers had long infiltrated the city.

"Look! It's him, he showed his face!" Shouted the mob as the king and his disciples exited the council's grand balcony. The sight of the king's frowned face sent panic across the wounded hearts but the tongues had already spoken. The owls had recorded it all, would it treachery or public disturbance? They thought.

The brave were few. Their voices rivaled the disciples' call for silence. "How dare you show your face after abandoning our kin?" Cried a father, the nodding and humming rippled across the masses yet there were only a few who muttered the word "Yes.".

The king's wrinkled red eyes darted across the mob as if he was registering all those faces and their expressions, he turned to his disciple and whispered a single word. The disciple's voice strengthened by the microphone he had acquired shut down all the protest's tangled screams. It seemed that his disciples were annoyed, their presence alarmed the masses that there may be violence.

The king was rotting beneath that large red cape he wore, decorated by bone shards he collected during his time in the legions. He was no longer young and hopeful, he was old and bitter. He was in disbelief that his life was ending before he could see the world again, and that set his heart on fire. He was rushing to pour his knowledge into the elite group of four disciples of which two were his twin daughters. His actions were unspeakably tyrannical, it was no secret that his dungeons were ridden with skeletons.

"The king orders you to listen." Spoke the first disciple on the left of the king, dressed in a red double buttoned coat striped with white lines. He was no older than thirty and wore a hood that attached to his coat yet his face was no mystery.

The mob was furious, not wanting to be ordered but the appearance of the local police made their voices die enough for the disciples to be heard. At that time, the white sect had planted the seed of chaos and dissolved into thin air.

"While his majesty is concerned for the safety of the legions, and understands the pain the families must feel. He utterly despises disorder and chaos." The Red disciple warned the public. "Your concerns should be - As advised- delivered through the council members, which already happened." This time, the disciple wearing the identical uniform yet in a blue shade spoke. She was a woman of a strong voice that sent shivers down the spines of those who feared the king, she was his daughter.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"And the outcome was abandoning them! We have demands!" Cried a mother that fueled the mob once again, the king's frown grew dark and unforgiving. His red eyes were glaring from the distance and were felt by every protestor.

As another disciple came forward to speak, the king reached his hand to stop them and walked forward himself.

"What kind of idiots are we to step inside the lion's den." The king's coarse voice struck the masses. He hardly ever gave speeches let alone engage with an angry mob.

And there was silence.

Their eyes chased each other, and the circling of the police weakened them. The families were torn apart, either fighting for the living or the dead. The mumbling wasn't dead even after the king spoke, and there wasn't much for him to say.

"There should be a way for us to go!" One man spoke, contrasting with the protestors' asleep demands. The humming pursued and the king's frown suddenly relaxed into some sort of a confident expression.

"You?" He spoke in an insulting tone. "An old man with a pitchfork shall pass through the wall, and annihilate our arch-nemesis?" The king berated the wounded father who still wouldn't back down.

The silence went on again, but not for long.

"Open the gate for us!" The father demanded. "We'll go on our own!" He shouted. The mob was eyeing each other in fear, they were divided amongst themselves. Although some were blinded by their pain, others had lucidity struck them hard enough to dry their minds of their delusions. Having seen what the Mooncallers are capable of, they became hesitant as the king showed persistence in keeping the legions away from this matter.

The father was justified in his own feelings, and he was blinded by fatherly courage that was a mere feeling, detached from any rationality. And like him were so many men and women, letting the white sect stir the thought in their mind. "Up and through the walls." Became their destination, a demand that signed their death certificate.

The king eyed his disciples left and right, whispered a few words as he flung his cape, and went back into the council.

The voices arose once again, the angry tones soared as the police closed in on the protestors. The disciples asked for silence and they were met by none, not long after, the twins followed their father leaving two disciples behind to end this chaos.

"The demands for permission to cross the gates will be discussed by the council. Until then, no further protests are allowed." Spoke the first disciple amidst the loud shouting."In ten minutes the state of emergency within the square will be activated, and the police will be given the right to arrest, or put down any present civilian. The time starts now." The second disciple spoke as he pressed a button that activated the grand clock, it's resounding ticks pushed the protestors into a state of panic as some of them dissolved into thin air, those who were stupid enough to intimidate the police were met by a bloody reaction.

The White Sect was slowly cooking their conspiracy.

II. Carvo's new toy.

Down in his sacred basement, Carvo locked the door on himself as he unfolded the mystery of the clone. His heartbeats were erratic, he was excited and fascinated, hastily writing notes on the well-preserved remains of Anysa's duplicate. Although he was busy with the new mission he had been given, he made sure Lalo, Abigail, and Luther were not free either.

"It's identical." Carvo held his recorder as he inspected the dismembered head. "The Skin is the mystery here." He touched it. "It's indeed human." He concluded.

"My first inspection points to this clone being a laboratory-grown specimen with a foreign technology of DNA tweaking, one that I'm not aware of."

"A very important observation is the resemblance of the cloned subject. It's important to note that this work has been based on a DNA sample taken from Anysa herself." Carvo paused.

"The organs are not of a Mooncaller." Carvo tightened his eyes, reaching an important conclusion as he dissected the liver.

"This strange combination of flesh, blood-like matter, and organs leads me to believe that I'm looking at a new specie, a new creation." Carvo observed as he was baffled. He closed the recorder as he sat down and let the information sink in.

"Impossible, how far have they come?" Carvo gulped. "This thing is not even old, I think it didn't know it was a clone either."

"But duplicating a human perfectly like that without using the standard Mooncaller techniques I've always seen means they've evolved. They know how to create new toys, once without Gabriel's curse!" Carvo thought.

"It seems they are capable of retrieving DNA from a council member, and not just any council member, means they're so deep among us. Not that I didn't know.." Carvo sighed.

He eyed the remains in a look of fear. Carvo was afraid, his knowledge was limited and what he saw pointed towards an entirely new mystery he feared he wouldn't be able to decipher." What lay beyond these walls? What civilization had they built?" He began to wonder. His mind drifted away, realizing his trust should never be displaced in such times. Luther and Lalo were his only hope, and as he sheltered the runaways he found the strings leading to both the white sect and Brando.

His research had only started.