No Rest For The Wicked

"Yo, Azeem, mind spilling the tea?"

Layla's voice cut through the silence shared by their little masochist group.

"You've been around him the longest. Seen all sorts of wild stuff, right? This gotta ring a bell. Or should I ask Roya? Nah, scratch that—she'd probably charge me for the answer."

Roya snorted softly at that, clearly unbothered, but Azeem?

He just stood there, staring at her, head in the clouds.

Then finally, with a sigh, he nodded, his face grim.

"I'd answer, but you gotta tell me this, what do you call the Fallen?"

"You mean us from the Dark Continent? Well, I've never been there long so I'm not sure, but I heard that it depends on the village. Yama's Embraced, Drowning Lotuses... There are many others—didn't bother remembering them though."

"I see..."

He nodded once more.

"As you've seen in the note, its official term is Falling Into Depravity..."