Story 1063: Night of the Nameless Saints

There is no map to Sanctis Orbus—the lost monastery adrift in the Black Fog. It drifts in and out of existence like a half-remembered prayer. But on the Night of the Nameless Saints, it returns. And it hungers.

The survivors of New Belfane called them saints, though their names were long stripped from record and their faces from time. Holy figures once praised by a vanished order for cleansing the plague that once consumed the region. But what they cleansed, they did not destroy—they entombed it. And now, the tombs have opened.

At twilight, fog rolled through the valley. Not mist. Not smoke. This fog spoke.

In whispers of dead scripture.

In voices that echoed from no mouths.

At the stroke of midnight, thirteen bells rang through the fog, though the town had no bell tower.

And the saints returned.