A thick black plume of some rose high above Rodham. Bodies lay strewn across the cobbles of Market Square, backlit by the burning braziers smouldering throughout the wide thoroughfare. The troupe approached the edge of the stage slowly, emotions running high as they pieced together what had happened. To the east and west they could hear the last of the crowd exiting into the side streets, carolled by the city guard and in no particular frame of mind to stay behind.

“Up there!” Duffy pointed above the royal box.

Along the roof, three ghastly figures clung to the tiles and feasted on what they could only presume were bodies. Raking claws stole souls and gaping maws ripped open flesh. Movement in the royal box drew Wainwright’s eye.

“Arden..." She could sense the cloying presence of undeath. She swore loudly.

“No…no Arden. You idiot!” She leapt down onto the cobbles and bent both knees to break her fall. Before Wainwright could stop her, she was sprinting across the square to her brother.

“Follow her Duffy.” Wainwright turned to Leopold. “How’s your aim tonight?”

The merchant smirked and span the chamber of his pistol. He clicked back the hammer and pointed it to the nearest of his targets. He closed one eye to focus, and slowed his breathing.

“It’ll piss them off boss.”

“Oh,” Wainwright mimicked Leopold’s expression. “I’m counting on it.” He turned back to the night sky and readied himself. “Fire!”

The gunshot echoed through the square and before the wraiths could take flight, a silver bullet exploded into its shoulder and sent sparks and cavalcades of lightning rattling along the tiles. It’s cold, calculating eyes turned to the stage and a deep, guttural cry heralded its ascent and descent down towards it’s attacker. The other wraiths followed, discarding their prey aside. They rolled down the rooftops and crashed to the cobbles below.

“Again!” Wainwright unsheathed his longsword and pulled it back in a two-handed grip. “Fire godamnit!”

Leopold let loose a salvo, each bullet narrowly missing the leader but catching the second in the chest. It spiralled, screamed and dropped to the cobbles. It reformed quickly, and found itself staring down a very angry seamstress.

“Bastard!” she roared, spiralling as she advanced and cutting through the wraith’s neck with her rapier. It went straight through, a thin purple line forming where the silver blade touched its essence. She stopped ten feet away and span about.

Duffy caught up with her, eyes glistening and daggers forming out of thin air. He too them and leapt, the wind in his step lifting him skyward like a leopard. He ploughed through the wraith, lashing out with his blades wildly. When he rolled to a stop, he rose beside Liza and gestured for her to flee.

“Stop Arden, I’ve got this.”

She stared at him. “You sure?”

Duffy nodded. She did not need any further re-assurance and spat before she continued towards the royal box.

“Hurricane’s strength, a whorl of power lifting me up, bring the heavens to my side and guide my aim.” Silver sparks crackled along the daggers as a breeze formed about them and summoned a miniature whirlwind about each. “Knock down my enemies and breathe life to my heart!” Swollen with magic, the bard charged and met the wraith as it leapt at him, talons raking, long, tendrils of its ethereal cloak whipping wildly behind it.