Lucero drew herself up, stopped her rampage. All around her the innocents continued to stare at her with awe. They did not draw back in terror at her hideous form, made from coagulated blood and innards. They did not cringe at the death of their companions, whose mangled bodies lay all around the Locus, their spilled blood collected by acolytes and given to Señor Oscuro who stood and watched, amusement flickering on his features.