The last sixteen hours before the striking hour of midnight is the day of the dead. The haunting wait to the festival of Armanathis is a painfully slow, daunting duration. It is also the waking of the dead.
Every one hundred years, Armanathis strikes on the first of the sixth month, also referred to the cursed month of Armana. Through these sixteen hours, the sky turns black, and the sun a ghoulish swamp green. The sky is starless, even as the sun slips over the horizon and the deep magenta moon appears full in the sky, shrouded by black clouds.
In the centre of the city Pellopi, there is a marketplace. A completely empty square, abandoned by the stall owners- not a stand, cart or being was in sight.
The marketplace was lined with houses, all with curtains closed, and if there were no curtains, they were either blocked with rubble or covered with any available cloth. There were streets leading away from the City Centre, all as deserted as the next. No light was ablaze, and no loved one was unattended.
To go out that night would be the most foolish and last thing you would do.
All sorts of ghastly creatures sprout from the ground, what was supposed to be their final resting place. Spirits materialize, some visiting their lost ones, others roaming the streets as shadows, others terrorizing families by rattling objects in their hideout. Rarely, even demons return and select a being to take over.
However, what is special about this year's Armanathis is that animals are starting to mutate, even humans, into creatures never dreamed of before.
After the hours have gone, the world returns to normal, and everything that wasn't there before vanishes apart from demon-possessed people. That means the affected animals and humans return to normal, but painfully.
Then, relieved, they emerge and celebrate the end of their fear- but it is not so cheerful for those who have lost family during the ordeal.
As of now, it is two hours into the wait of the midnight strike. Many creatures lurk the barren Inner Circle of the city. The trees appear black, and the cobblestone passages reflect a silver aura, giving it a mysterious beauty. The marketplace awaits.
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