> In the old records, the depictions of Jaan were numerous. They varied from the mundane to the fantastical. As such, we are, even today, unsure of where myth ends, and reality begins.
>
> - Of Myth and Legend, The Jaan.
As the undead horde was taken to the police vans, ready to be taken to the special jailhouse for their kind, William pulled Elena away. It took four vans, each carrying eight undead, to fit them all. Elena turned, arching her neck to see the people being imprisoned and the stage. She couldn’t see past the growing crowd and the distance separating them. She pulled away from William and tried to turn around. William held fast, pushing against the people coming to join the crowd. Elena pulled again, harder, more deliberately, and escaped William’s grasp.
The way she came from quickly opened itself up for her passing. It didn’t take long for the he Necromancer on the stage, her target, to become visible. He stood out above the crowd like a beacon of hope that provided a reason for this putrid, pointless life of hers. She pushed through the crowd and fought to get closer. The smell of living humans, their body odor, the smell of makeup, and cheap costumes filled her lungs. They were insignificant to her, she knew her destination, clad in white, dozens of feet between her and him.
One step was all that divided her and the crowd. When she exited the amassed group of gawking men and women, she saw the undead men, women, and children being chained and forced into the cars. None of them fought, none of them cried. As if they couldn’t understand the situation, and merely obeyed out of obligation to their former lives, they complied with every word spoken by the police.
Elena stood before the crowd of men and women in costume. A cool breeze pressed against her, it reminded her that she stood at the fore. Voices of the police officers sang out over the street and cascaded over the undead and the gathered crowd, like a benediction from Rykard himself. They formed a semi-circle of vans around the two men in uniform reading from long pieces of yellowed paper that didn’t often see the light of day.
“…you will be given the right to bid your families farewell…” A right granted by Rykard exited the voice of the older officer, a tanned, grey-haired individual who stood equal to the younger man at his side.
“…you will be given the right to humane death under church supervision…” Another right granted by Rykard, this one, spoken by the man to the elder man’s right. He looked familiar.
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Elena paused, not hearing the rest of the rights being spoken. The man closer to her, the younger man, stood tall and imposing in a formal uniform meant for special occasions in the city. She remembered him from that day weeks ago when she sat in the park that night. He told her to go home, and here he spoke to the undead, reading their rights to die.
Panicked and fearful, she turned, and ran along the crowd’s edge, closer to the stage, William closed in on her. She could hear him breathing behind her.
“Elena, stop, please!” but she couldn’t. The more she ran, the more her fear and worries left her. She needed to do this, to talk to the man standing on the stage in the white glow of the lights next to Rykard. She needed answers. She needed a reason to exist.
“Tell me!” Elena yelled, feet away from the stage. Heavy breaths left her lungs. She felt weak, tired, and her body heavy. She didn’t turn around to check if William still followed; she couldn’t hear him. After catching her breath, she readied herself to ask the man on the stage her questions.
Why did you bring me back?
Why did you bring them back?
Why are you standing next to your enemy?
What is happening?
She was going to ask, to get answers seemed so important moments ago. But as she stood under orange street lamps, in her secondhand dress, and without a single friend, she saw the truth in the man’s eyes. Rykard still scanned the crowd, as if looking for something, for someone. The Necromancer, the man she saw that night, the one who brought her back, briefly held a sense of recognition in his eyes, as if he did remember her but just as quickly didn’t care. That sense of recognition quickly left, and his face returned to an impassive mask of uncaring fortitude.
Under his gaze, she felt naked, like an object meant to be discarded with the rest of the undead. He turned his head and raised his arm to signal for another police officer. An officer grabbed her and escorted her away.
~###~
William wanted to join her, to run, grab her, and leave; but she ran into the open, and stood in front of the stage where Rykard would see. He can’t. He can’t get caught. William couldn’t face that darkness again, being trapped under the church in that dungeon as they cut away at him, and used his blood, flesh, and bone in their experiments. The very thought made him recoil. The reality of what they’d do to him made him wish all the more that he was dead permanently.
He would fail if he ran out now. He refused to run to her side but also refused to run away. This was the best he could do. From among the crowd, William saw Elena being handcuffed, but she was not forced to join the undead.
He saw them lift a sunstone to her face. She looked at them confused. The police looked confused for a few moments, then they took her into another car and drove off.
William knew she was alive, but based on the look she held at that moment, it seemed as though she didn’t know. He doubted himself and wondered what he was even trying to do. She’d be safer at home. He joined the crowd and left his friend.