of these creatures? Speak, Benedictus!"
The older man, a good four decades Kyrie's senior, scowled. "You don't want to know, kid."
They continued walking through the night. Their boots rustled fallen leaves and damp twigs, and the wind moaned. Kyrie tightened his cloak around him, but found no warmth. He tried to speak a few times, but Benedictus scowled and silenced him, saying these woods were full of ears. And so Kyrie walked silently, thoughts rattling in his skull. He remembered floating over his body. The nightshade had tugged his soul, and was taking it... where? To a place colder and darker than this night, than any night. Kyrie shivered. He didn't know how long they walked through the forest. It seemed like hours, but time felt lost to Kyrie. Finally he could bear it no longer.
He grabbed Benedictus's shoulder. "That thing did something to me, Benedictus. I don't know what, but it scared me."
Benedictus grumbled. "The night is no time to speak of these things."
"I don't care. It seemed to... pull me, Benedictus. Not my body, but whatever's inside my body. My soul, if you'd believe it. And I saw things. Well, I didn't see them, but I felt them. Dimensions, and space, and other worlds. My soul seemed to balloon to fill them, like smoke in a jar, and...." His stomach knotted. He took a deep breath. "I think I've earned the right to learn more. Tell us what you know."
Benedictus growled, still stomping through the dark woods. "You want to know about nightshades, kid?" He pointed his torch to his left. "Look."
Kyrie looked, and saw that they had chanced upon a road that ran downhill, cut through a farm, and ended at a village. The village burned. Kyrie saw bodies between the buildings. A dozen nightshades swarmed above them, coiling, their eyes glittering. The creatures laughed, their voices like thunder.
"Stars," Agnus Dei whispered. She placed a hand on Kyrie's shoulder. "Are those people all dead?"
Benedictus shook his head, staring at the village below. "Not dead. Something worse. Their souls are with the nightshades now, lost in the worlds beyond this world, in lands of darkness and fear. They will remain there forever. They are already praying for death, but no death will release them."
For a long moment, the companions—the last surviving Vir Requis—stared down at the village. Finally Kyrie nodded.
"Great!" he said. "Just great. We finally defeat the griffins, and now these guys show up. As much as I'd love to fight them too, and start a whole new war, I think I'll pass. Not our problem. Osanna is infested with nightshades? Let Dies Irae handle them. Come on, Benedictus. Let's return to Requiem, or at least, what's left of it. This is not our war."
"But it is our war," Lacrimosa answered for her husband, voice haunted. "I remember tales of these nightshades. They were sealed centuries ago. Only the one who sits upon Osanna's throne could release them. That means these creatures work for Dies Irae now. And that means...."
Kyrie clutched his head and finished the sentence for her. "They're hunting us."
The nightshades below shrieked as one. Though they were a league away, and the companions were hidden in the trees, the nightshades saw them. Their eyes blazed, and they abandoned the village. They came flowing up the declivity, heading to the Vir Requis.
"Fly!" Benedictus shouted. He shifted into a black dragon, flapped his wings, and flew into the night. "Only light can stop them. Fly after me, we seek sunrise!"
The others shifted too, and the four Vir Requis flew in dragon form.
Dozens of nightshades howled behind them, chasing in the night.
GLORIAE
Gloriae the Gilded, Steel Maiden of Osanna, stood upon the walls of her palace and watched the city crumble.
Confutatis was known by many names. The Marble City. The Jewel of Osanna. The Cradle of Light. It was a sprawling city of a million souls. A city of forts, snaking walls, and gilded statues of Dies Irae. A city known for a military might that cowed the world. Today, as Gloriae stood upon the battlements of Confutatis, she did not recognize it. She saw no military might, no Sun God light, no glory for the poets to sing of.
She saw death, darkness, and cracking stone.
"Nightshades!" she cried, standing atop the tallest steeple of her palace, overlooking the city. "I have summoned you. I am your mistress. I sit upon Osanna's throne as my father lies dying, and you will obey me."
They swirled across the city, like wisps of