When the eleventh chime of the clock rang out, everyone in Oak City stopped what they were doing, their movements orderly and synchronized, as if they were pre-set clockwork machines, heading towards the central square of the town hall, without a whisper of conversation, leaving only the sound of footsteps throughout the city.
Ethan looked down from the second floor of the apartment at the crowd passing in front of the building; the grand scene reminded him of the images in movies before a zombie outbreak, where they lost autonomous thought, driven only by bodily instincts.
Several Kaisaros followers undergoing purification knelt at the very center of the square, wearing identical golden masks, conduits with spikes pierced into the skin of their faces, bulging under the flesh like strained veins, their heads drooped, eyes level with the ground.
