The township was officially named the 56th charter of the Order of the Chiroptera. Every night at sundown, the monks would set up the altar at the edge of the cave, a swallowing mouth of darkness and stale air. They would light the red candles and hum softly, as the fading light of the sun kissed the temples of the townsfolk. Merchants would wind their carts slowly through the crowd, offering refreshments and trinkets, talismans to facilitate the worshiping process and jewels to attract good luck. Children would run circles around each other and laugh with sugar stained lips, until the moon began to show and the night crept in—then there would be a hushed silence and the children would huddle close to their mothers and husbands would wrap their arms around their family and they would wait for the Exodus.
On the night in question, there was a split second of silence as the sun disappeared.
And then the squeaking broke through the air and the sky was suddenly filled with black specks of bats as they washed over the countryside. Awoken from their sleep, they dipped and swirled, forming an almost impenetrable mass of darkness against the cloudy night sky.
