Luther's eyes scanned the gathered people — the living ones, at least. His fingers still clenched tightly around the hilt of the demonic sword, though the weapon itself remained quiet for once. The air hung thick with unease. Something about this place made his stomach twist in ways not even demons could manage.
Then came the laughter—a sudden, booming sound that shattered the thick quiet of the square. The merchant standing at the center threw his head back and laughed so loudly the echo rolled off the decaying stone walls like thunder.
Luther blinked, frowning. The laugh wasn't sane. It was the laugh of someone who'd been pretending too long that things were fine and had finally forgotten how to stop pretending.
Before he could even open his mouth, the sound spread—wrongly.
