Jaan are described as embodiments of the night itself.

- Of Myth and Legend, The Jaan.

Nahual stood beside one of several vans. He breathed a small sigh of relief. Many of the undead were in custody, and that alone would prevent the Necromancer from completing whatever plan he had. He looked out over El Viajar from where he stood atop the pyramid that housed the temple. Constructed centuries ago, it stood as a bastion of hope and life against the dark. Nahual breathed deeply of the night air, he knew he played a crucial part in protecting the city.

“What’s next?” A familiar voice spoke out. A man dressed in the same regalia as Nahual stood next to one of the vans, eyes on his hips.

“We wait until Inheritor Rykard and Uldvari arrive. Then, we can release the dead to their custody.”

“I say we just kill ‘em all.” He kicked the van’s wheels, in obvious irritation at having to follow protocol. For once, Nahual couldn’t distinctly disagree. He did feel that killing the undead before anything else made the most sense, but he wasn’t the Inheritor. Looking over the undead, making sure the Necromancer wasn’t among their ranks, and doing away with them humanely is what made Rykard a man to look up to.

“It shouldn’t take too long,” Nahual replied, checking his wristwatch. It had been a gift from his wife and daughter, not expensive in the monetary sense, but valuable in what it represented.

They stood alone in silence for a time. Nahual gazed out over the city, in knowledge and purpose. While the air pressed against him like an old friend, the city lights sparkled like the stars. A city worth protecting. Music ceased, and in a few days’ time, all of the All Souls Festival decorations would be taken down for the All Thanks Festival.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” A calming voice sounded from the temple entrance. Rykard looked as regal as he had not hours before. He wore a white robe and sported a greying beard. The few wrinkles he had made him appear the wise grandfather out of stories. They all stood in silence for a moment before the temple at the top of the pyramid. “Without the help of the police, order could not be kept in our city.” Rykard looked over the two officers. The other officer flushed, bowed his head, and thanked Rykard for the praise.

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“It is our duty, sir,” Nahual saluted as he had been trained to do over the years. Rykard smiled back, and Nahual felt as though he had done the right thing.

A contingent of lower members of the church exited the temple, ready to accept the undead. Nahual, not one to miss a cue, walked to the end of the vans and unlocked each one as the members filed into line behind each vehicle. At each unlocking, the church members opened the doors and began grabbing each undead, one at a time. Nahual stood back and watched them take each undead into the temple. Under the dim lights, Nahual saw Uldvari look at each undead, still wrapped in cloth, but now clearly defeated, with curious eyes.

“I would give the entire force my blessing, but, for now, I’ll give it to the two of you.” Nahual’s partner began mumbling, clearly thinking about the best blessing he could ask for, but Nahual knew what he wanted.

“May I ask to see the undead disposed of, to ensure our city is safe and free of blight?” Without hesitation, Rykard agreed and offered Nahual to come to the temple.

They passed the stone steps that led to the temple heights and walked between tall stone pillars. Each pillar stood like a sentry, smooth, and imposing, as if a giant had set them down. Inside the temple, rows of stone seats lined the hall and led to a podium, likely the Grand Gathering where Rykard preached.

In front of them both, Uldvari continued inspecting each undead. With each undead he passed, he shook his head. He never lost his temper or his reasoning. Down the line, he made the same motion without fail. When he was done with all forty undead, it became clear that whatever he had been looking for, he failed to find it. Rykard looked at Nahual and began speaking the sad news to everyone in attendance.

“While deaths were prevented, we have not caught the Necromancer.” Nahual saw Rykard wilt, and the sadness of the news filled him up. Rykard loved this city and sought to protect it as much as Nahual. “Report to your captain. With the Necromancer still out there, the undead will increase in number.” Nahual nods in agreement.

Behind Rykard, Nahual saw the undead being dragged away. He has no doubt that wherever they’re going, it’s better than being around the good people of the city. May they die in peace. Among the undead is a young boy around the age of the girl in the park. Though half of his face remained exposed, he looked as scared as any child. Nahual eyed the rest of them, and they all looked scared, like they wanted to protest, but couldn’t.

Nahual couldn’t care. He knew they weren’t real people. He felt glad that the church had wards that prevented the undead from being able to speak. He looked out over the city one last time, before acknowledging within himself that a panic would soon start, now that the city knew the Necromancer had returned.