"...Seven... eight... nine."
Filch's finger hovered in the damp air. He paused, lips pressing into a thin line, before turning the finger inward to point at his own chest.
"Ten."
Just ten souls left standing under the oppressive, haunting glow of the Crimson Moon. Suddenly the blood red glow seemed more haunting than it ever had. The emptiness now felt more like a physical thing trying to crush what little resolve remained.
There were only ten people remaining, out of the original
... how many?
'Damn it... how many were there initially?' Ishiki gritted his teeth. He had no idea how many of them there were. He couldn't even remember if most of the names ever existed or not.
Worse, he couldn't even recall the faces of the missing. Were they tall? Short? Did they laugh? Did they cry? Or were they just empty silhouettes that his brain had filled in to make the crowd seem larger?
It was like trying to remember a dream five minutes after waking up.
