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In one of the largest, still in prestine condition mansions in Okutama, two women stood in the kitchen, their voices barely above a whisper.
"They say something happened to Yolanda and the others who tried to run away..." one of them, a middle-aged woman, murmured while kneading dough on the marble counter. Her hands trembled slightly, betraying her unease. "Rumors are everywhere, and I don't even know what's true anymore."
The younger woman moved closer, eyes darting toward the hallway. ""I heard their shadows moved on their own. Turned into blades. Sliced them up into ribbons... Flesh torn so bad they couldn't even tell whose arm was whose."
The older woman gasped, her fingers tightening in the dough. "That's not what I heard. Word is—they imploded. Like something like a bomb burst inside them. Their blood, bones and bits of flesh scattered everywhere like ash in the wind."
