The number twelve symbolizes the ideal paragon. Twelve in their idyllic world of debauchery. Add one more to numerological perfection and it can only become marred in corruption and rebellion. Nyx was the thirteenth, coming before the group of twelve Chaots. Even the ones with rotted eyes, perhaps from smell or some undeciphered sense, looked toward her. Hunger swelled in them from her presence—not in the malnourished sense, but in all the ravenousness denotations of the word. And that surge led them to her, leaving prior acts forgotten in order to satisfy this new indulgence.
