Along the taciturn cobblestone path, reflected the shadows of nocturnal women, who only during the day bought clothes and fed on beautiful yet empty smiles, masks of their suffering. The pain of their souls was a living reminder of their cause and existence.
Maloca, a beautiful European city, famed for dazzling tourists with colorful landscapes and friendly people, hid behind its facade the cruelty of the night. A passing woman, performing her art at traffic lights, attracted the gaze of the Shadows, eager to possess her soul and enslave her. She replied firmly that she would live only by the kindness of people.
But the Shadows did not relent, believing all has a price. From that Wednesday, the Prostitutes of Maloca began disappearing almost completely, leaving only blood and hair measured precisely. Honest work became imminent danger… and paid sex grew scarce in the narrow street.
The Prostitutes themselves had been controlled by the Shadows, with detonators implanted in their heads, flesh without souls, screams allowed only as moans. The beautiful Latina was kidnapped… but smiled as she accepted her fate, revealing that she was not human. While others wept, she ripped out their tongues to spare more pain.
The few surviving Prostitutes realized she was the cause of their sisters' deaths. Casting aside the little humanity left, their bodies deformed, skin shedding in black feathers, claws and hooves replacing their limbs. They surrounded the Latina, who saw how many souls they had devoured, and decided to purify them.
The attack was simultaneous. The Prostitutes of Maloca launched themselves without fear, their bodies emptied of humanity, destroying themselves in the air like plucked chickens. The Latina consumed the sinners to sustain her existence, leaving the cobbled street marked with aligned human hair, spilled blood, and vanished shadows, a testament to the purification only she could achieve.