Word on the street... There’s always blood in the dirt where Hathian’s secrets lie, but yesterday’s shadows painted the city thick with fresh rumors. First, word spreads like wildfire of a graveyard rescue—a poor soul clawed from the earth, buried alive among empty coffins, breathing through nothing but a pipe, left to the mercy of whoever found her first. Some say it’s the work of a cult; others, payback gone wrong. Meanwhile, the police finally snared the lavender-haired menace, dragging her down with tazers in the Theater’s alley, booking her where even voodoo won’t grant bail. And just as dusk settled, whispers caught fire: the garage blaze wasn’t an accident—it was arson, deliberate and hungry for chaos.
