> The Iteri carved roads and taught the people to live. However, the people turned against the Iteri. The exact reason is uncertain, but many scholars speculate that the general population feared this failing organization. Eventually, they disappeared into history.
>
> - Of Myth and Legend, The Lost Iteri
When the sun had fallen beyond the wall, casting the city in an umbral embrace, Elena and William awoke. Earlier than usual, they wasted no time in getting ready for the festival. William wore a black jacket with a hood, and painted his face like the band they saw, with white paint for his face, and black around his eyes. Elena wore the white, robe-like dress she had found. She took a rope and wrapped it around her midsection. She undid the binding around the sleeves, letting the once poofy sleeves cascade into a waterfall effect. She wore a coat over the dress, citing that it would be odd if other people saw her without one, after all, it would be a cold night. They found a large stick, long enough to match her height. In all, the look made her a close approximation to the Sun Iteri. William refused to hold a staff.
At the dried water fountain, the same one they had all been meeting at for weeks now, William and Elena said goodbye to Erasmus. He wore his customary suit, seemingly not worried for his appearance. He remained the the well-dressed man Elena had met all those weeks ago, pale, but well-dressed. She still remembered when he lifted his coat sleeve to reveal his rotted flesh. The reality was not kind.
Erasmus left, waving them both goodbye. William knew his destination, to join up with the rest of the undead, and post themselves in ideal spots throughout the Deuda Line. It had been discussed at length, where they would go, how they would proceed, and what they would say once they found the Necromancer in the crowd. Ideally, they would take him, drag him to the stage, and plead their case.
Anything could go wrong, and William had every right to believe it would. Still, he kept those thoughts to himself, hopeful that everything would go as planned. They would find the priest, turn him into the church, with a crowd, and prove themselves to be unwilling participants. Despite their rotted appearance, they were good people in the end. They were dealt an odd hand, and yet William knew that the church would never be able to return them to the way that they were. They would never live their lives to their natural ends.
They paced themselves and walked through the familiar sprawl of broken roads and sidewalks. The winding alleys and roads, once labyrinthine, were now as familiar as their resting places in the university. Each shadow, overgrown tree, and crack were now like old friends, greeting them upon their journey down to the Deuda Line, to the All Souls Festival.
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
Once they reached the line, Elena looked around and gasped. William smiled as she looked around, enraptured by the new decorations that had been put up during the day. All along the line men and women stood beside orange and black booths and carved pumpkins, eager to sell their wares. A wide assortment of treats lay just under the canopies of the sellers. Candied apples, cotton candy, chocolate, barbequed meat, hot chocolate, and so much more were available, ready to be eaten.
In addition to the edible treats, some vendors sold masks, staves, rings, and necklaces. Some booths even offered to paint the faces of anyone who came by. Elena saw more than one cat person. And still, beyond the usual fare of what Elena expected, there was also religious iconography. She had expected everything else, but not people in black dress pants, dress shoes, button-up shirts, and ties to be walking about the line. Yet, there they were, handing out pamphlets and preaching the word of Life, while some booths sold statues of Rykard and the Sun Iteri.
“Stop gawking, you won’t be able to eat it anyway,” William said, bringing Elena out of her food-induced reverie. She had been staring at the skewers of meat. Elena nodded her head, a pained look on her face — she wanted to eat.
They kept walking, taking note of the people selling church iconography, and those passing out pamphlets. They noted their complexion and facial features. Since they started on the far end, the exact opposite end from the stage, they had a lot of people to go through.
During their walk, music fitting for the time roared over the street. Some people danced, smiling happily, while others commented on the year the songs came out, or their meaning. In all, Elena found it peaceful, as if being surrounded by these people, the music, the booths, and the atmosphere were what she needed all along. She breathed in, savoring the smell of the season, holding it in her lungs a few moments longer, and then she let it out. She would find the Necromancer today, and then everything would be even better.
A booth caught her eye, a puppet show. She wandered over and saw parts of the plays. One of the stories was about wizards at a faraway school. Another was about a flying knight in blue armor who promised to protect people. The last one she saw was about a man without a soul gaining power to defeat evil gods. The stories were shorter versions of the longer ones, ancient stories from the old world, but Elena loved the classics.
They kept walking, and as they walked, the people enjoying themselves pulled at Elena’s heart. Happiness for them, and for the holiday, and what it meant for so many people, filled her with, in turn, happiness. But sadness pulled upon her, the fact that her family thought this holiday was evil and celebrated the Necromancer, even though she saw it wasn’t true, ached her.
They kept looking around, through the booths, and through to the small alleys. They didn’t see anyone matching the description of the Necromancer, until they arrived at the stage, on time for the grand announcement of his holiness.