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He looked harder. Focused further. He wanted to pick out individual faces. That was quite the task at this distance, especially with them all moving, but he felt like he could manage it. Just a bit more. If he could follow the crowd’s flow, then he could predict where a locked-on face would be moving next. It was like trying to lock onto a distant bird through a telescope.

There. A young woman’s face. What was her expression?

Blank. Hollow. Empty-eyed.

And she was just walking. Not on her phone. Not talking to someone. Just walking.

Then she passed out of view, behind one of the buildings. He searched for another target. A middle-aged man. Bald. Business suit. Same empty expression, though. Same mindless look in his eyes.

And again. And again. And still again. Each person he singled out was the same. Just walking and nothing else.

Quite eerie. How to even explain to Darksteel and the others? He needed a moment to find his words. “Um... I don’t see any screaming,” he said, “but I do see a mass of people down there who appear to be... hypnotized? Or something to that effect.”

‘What the fuck?’ said Voreese. ‘Where’s the screaming coming from them?’

Roman, meanwhile, still seemed to be listening intently. “I think I can tell. A general direction, at least.”

Hmm. Loren was uncertain now. And coincidentally, Rezolo gave voice to his concerns.

‘It seems we have a choice, then. Should we investigate the people down there or follow the noise?’

All eyes went to Darksteel.

He didn’t need long to answer. “The screaming. That seems like it could be more urgent. Then we’ll check out the crowd later.”

‘Alrighty,’ said Voreese. ‘Welcome to Intar, I guess.’

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The bleeding had stopped days ago, but not because his wounds had finally healed. Rather, it was simply because he’d run out of blood to lose. His body had already died days earlier than even that, and despite Overra’s best efforts to revive his flesh, it simply didn’t last. It would just die again, seemingly faster each time.

And now, Parson Miles was a withered husk of a man. Still on his feet. Still walking. But not with strength. Not with confidence. Not with anything, anymore.

Even if he still had all his faculties, his body was now little more than a shambling, shattered corpse as he slowly made his way across the windswept countryside.