Clara took a bow and unfurled her wings. This further energised the crowd. Even the entertainers were joining in on the excitement.

“She’s come back from the dead!”

“You can’t escape Death!”

A voice cut through the chatter and silenced them all. It was the singer, every syllable played out like a musical note being played out by the hand of a skilled musician.

“Welcome to Pompeii, Clara Grey.”

Clara smiled, her mind struggling to accept that they knew of her at all.

Which changed as more detail registered in their minds.

“Are those wings?”

“She’s not wearing a shirt!”

“Scandalous!”

“Those grey eyes…”

Much more came out in the chaos, but Clara could not filter out the cacophony entirely.

“That’s her?”

“The one who died?”

“It can’t be.”

Upon hearing Julia speak, the maiden looked up and took in a sharp breath. The interruption was brief, but enough to pique the curiosity of those within the audience.

They collectively turned their heads, with their eyes going right past Julia. The fact the werewolf was wearing blue jeans, and a white t-shirt should have caught their gaze, but something more unusual was just at her side.

The group erupted in a cacophony of chaos. Some gasped, while others appeared to be on the cup of hyperventilating. However, what was most telling were the words that slipped out unfiltered.

“A hunter here?”

“The high and mighty have graced us with our presence.”

“Why can’t they leave us alone.”

“In a world without variation,” Clara whispered. “These two are a breath of fresh air.”

“I wish I could understand them,” Julia said louder than intended.

The maiden was now singing a song from the Hebrew Bible, something about a young couple yearning for one another. While hunters did not expressly acknowledge the existence of this bible, some enjoyed delving into the prose. The religious schools’ equivalent of a nude magazine in class.

Upon hearing Julia speak, the maiden looked up and took in a sharp breath. The interruption was brief, but enough to pique the curiosity of those within the audience.

This experience was entirely new to Clara. Her home as an acolyte was always well below capacity, but at least four generations were born here since being isolated. The music also made sense, as a way to inject sound into the city.

They soon came upon a red-haired maiden, and a black-haired man equally blessed with youth. In Clara’s mind they were both young enough to be hunters but their clothing differed from the uniforms in significant ways. Given our failure rates these are probably rejects.

A crowd was formed in a half-circle facing the couple. No one had acknowledged their presence, as their eyes were fixed on the performers.

Their clothes looked to be hand-me down. There was little colour variation, but many had taken the time to alter their clothing so they would stick out.