Luella eventually went to sleep, on a blanket-lined hammock strung up in another room of the hut. While Rizzo decided to go for a walk.

The nights on Perdition were surprisingly cool, and unshockingly tranquil; there was still no trace of flesh-devouring imps, like what was promised in the fanatical news stories. Rizzo seriously began to wonder if perhaps some, if not all of these accounts were merely an exaggerated spin on the island’s natural fauna. For example, mosquitoes and bats—both of which were in abundance on Perdition—in the case of said imps.

Regardless, it still wouldn’t explain the presence of the pillar. Nor the mysterious deaths of all those who ventured onto the island, during the previous months.

No: Rizzo was certain this was the place.

I have thirty days on this island…or make it twenty-nine.

Rizzo walked from the house to the shore, stripping away his shoes, his stockings and petticoat as he did. He wanted to feel the bare wind on his knees and his thighs, and loose grains of sand dwindling between his toes. It all felt marvelous.

Walking along a moonlit beach, he was free from the stings of the mosquito.

Looking out across the blackened ocean, he saw the glowing yellow cabin windows of the distant, gently bobbing shape of the Dreamcatcher.

Twenty-nine days…but will it be enough?

For Rizzo, time was usually completely meaningless. But here, it meant everything.

The next few hours passed him by inconsequentially; and as morning rose, Luella found him sitting in the sand with his chin propped against his knees. Even then, he was still intently watching the ship: a daunting, expressionless stare to his tragically beautiful doll-like black eyes.

"Did you sleep at all?" she asked, her brow peaked in a hint of concern.

He shook his head, still facing straight ahead.

"Must've drank too much," he said.

Rizzo put back on his shoes, but left the other shed parts of his clothing strewn across the white sands. Then, returned with Luella to the hut.

"I'll take care of breakfast," Luella said; and fortunately, the stove was still workable, so she was able to fry the morning's yield of eggs with some cheese and sprinkles of salt—calling it an omelet, that was perfectly delicious.

However, the air was tense as Luella set the plates down at the table, taking a chair across from Rizzo. She'd been frowning all morning.

"You shouldn't have left me alone last night," Luella said.

Rizzo froze, his fork with a piece of egg in hand. "I…" he briefly started to conjure up with an excuse, but shook his head with a sigh and refrained. "You're right. We still don’t know what to expect from this island, so it’s much safer for us to stick together.”

“Did something happen last night? You seemed strange earlier.”

“I suppose I was taken by the beauty of this place."

“What of your clothes? You’ve done away with your stockings, your petticoat…”

“It is too hot during the day, so I thought I should lose them.”

“Quite,” Luella replied flatly, unconvinced. Then, shifted the subject: "So, the Crowley lure—"

"Didn't work.” Rizzo nodded, taking a bite from his fork before continuing with his mouth full: “Still, it was worth a try."

Luella winced at his poor manners. However, she didn’t tangent:

"Very well. Then I suppose we'll take the pistols and conduct ourselves further inland."

"Yes," Rizzo murmured: "The pistols..."—referring to a set of Webley revolvers loaned to them by the naval crew for their own protections, along with storage belts and a box of cartridges. "Admittedly, I've never used a gun before.”

"Neither have I,” she returned with a smile, and a small giggle. “We are such posh ladies!"

Rizzo chuckled. "Oh no, my dear: I am most certainly not posh!" he chimed playfully. Then added—slyly, with a subtle grin—and in a softer tone: "Nor am I a lady."

Luella glared, insisting: "but surely you are of the high-class."

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"Wrong again! On all counts~" he said, unfurling a fan as he simultaneously drew it from the cut of his blouse within one smooth, elegant twirl of his hand.

“You’re lying!” Luella was aghast. “I cannot believe it; such an image of grace as yourself!”

"Ah, but make no mistake, Ms. Lafferty: I am not of the ruling class; I only fuck the ruling class”—he winked—”looking my prettiest whilst doing so."

Luella's jaw dropped. "You are…a courtesan!?"

It took some while, but after Luella was able to calm herself—through Rizzo’s uproarious laughter—it was straight back to business:

Deep in the jungle, there lay the ancient ruins of an indigenous village. Rows of low-standing, square-shaped stone structures were uniformly aligned across the span of a wide, grassy pavilion. Surrounded by walls which bore the classic mezo-american design emphasis on geometry and symmetry in its varied depictions of humans, serpent-beasts and swirling conch shell patterns, to name a few.

Rizzo and Luella were guided there by a decades-old map, breath-taken by its largely intact state.

Artifacts of the ill-fated French expedition were also present among the ruins. Among these being tattered tents, weather-beaten furniture and supply barrels filled with non-perishables and gunpowder.

Luella was vaguely horrified. “This is a place of death: between the indigenous tribe that originally built this place, and the French expedition.”

Looming above all, situated as the primeval village's central throne of power was—of course, the enigmatic Pillar of Pluton, but also—a towering, multi-storied ziggurat ascended by dual sets of carved stone steps, culminating at a sun-bathed balcony overlooking the entire village. Upon which, there resided an ominous gray slab.

“It looks to be a temple,” Rizzo mused. "Similar to the ones built by the Aztecs of Central America."

Upon closer inspection, he and Luella noticed faded red stains along the steps. “Is it blood?” Luella gasped: “Did the indigenous tribe of Perdition conduct human sacrifices?”

“Well, I very highly doubt it’s pigs’ blood…”

“Be serious, Rizzo! Is there something occultic at play here?”

“I couldn't say. However, I do think it a funny coincidence that a civilization would construct such a lavish monument on the same island as the Pillar of Pluton."

"How so? The Pillar only appeared here recently, whereas the temple…"

Rizzo glared at her sharply. "Perhaps time is viewed differently by the higher powers and those attached to them, Ms. Lafferty. In the sense that their schemes might necessarily span beyond a single lifetime, or even an entire civilization."

"Rizzo…" Luella started warily in a low, tip-toeing voice. "I have to ask you something."

"What's that?" he returned softly with a vacant look, tilting his head to the side at a perplexing angle.

"Is there something you have thus far neglected to tell me?" she asked.

“That depends…”

Rizzo scanned her suspiciously a while, continuing with slight agitation:

"What exactly are you implying with such a question?'"

"I think you are hiding something; you’ve been restless since we first arrived on the island."

He chuckled. “Is that all? I am simply”—he stepped away from her, gesturing with his hand a while as though articulating himself, then finishing: “homesick, is all.”

“Nonsense,” Luella snapped: “You’re not the type to lose your nerves so easily.”

“How would you know? Either I am so easy to read, or a master at keeping secrets. It cannot be both.”

“Like you said, we’ve known each other for more than a month now.” She returned with a grin, fixing him with her unrelenting gaze. “And during this time I have observed, first hand, your cold and calculating nature: how you manipulate and deceive others to achieve your own ends, reveling in the destruction you cause.”

“Clever girl,“ Rizzo moaned, crossing his arms indignantly. “So it is true that I extract some perverse enjoyment at the expense of others—so what? I never claimed to be pure.”

“On the contrary: you seem fit to always remind others of your perverseness.”

Rizzo grimaced: his splendid features becoming disgustingly twisted, as his slender shoulders began to tremble with repressed emotion.

“You wouldn't be able to understand: I knew as much from the day I first laid eyes on you.”

Through his demeanor, Luella sensed a deep well of sorrow beneath the surface

He bowed his head, hiding his tears behind luscious, billowy black curls of hair.

Upon speaking, his words were produced in a dark and seething, guttural, contempt-filled growl:

“I do so…because I am perverse: every stinking, wretched ounce of me.”

His arms still crossed, he dug his fingernails so deeply into his shoulder with one hand that—as Luella gasped—trails of blood started to ensue.

"I am a slum-orphan, who narrowly escaped the streets—" he wailed, slouching forward as he did, while his knees buckled until they gave out from under him. "Only by becoming a piece of meat to an old lecher!"

Luella was startled, her eyes widening in realization—

“The wizard from the story!”

Rizzo lifted his head sharply, honing onto her with a snarl.

"I was never more happy than the day I watched the demon stab him, and tear his guts out," he continued to seethe, with a slight devilish grin. "So now, with every breath in my lungs…” He yelled: “I curse him! I am no longer his nymph, but a beauty of her own making! One that owns and conquers all—devours all!"

"Gabriella…" Luella's words failed. She was too overwhelmed in shock at the display.

But also, in that moment, she felt an undeniable sympathy for Gabriella Risso.

"Do you believe my story now?!” He pleaded. “Or should I let spill another dark part of my past—so it might please you?"

Luella simply shook her head and knelt beside him, embracing his shuddering form.