After wandering for a few hours, Vodou found himself in a small town. Its buildings loomed in tones of grey and brown, and though it had a bit of an authentic style, it did not feel authentic at all. The people around were going about their day through a busy hustle and bustle crowd, though there was no talking to be heard. Eyes were barely visible, usually covered by a hat or a hood, and on the rare occasion that they were, they portrayed nothing but distrust.

Vodou sighed.

"The perfect place for someone like dad," he whispered to himself.

As he mentioned his father, an idea hit him. Maybe, just to protect his identity, he should go by his father's name instead of his own. After all, Valthius sounded a lot more honorable than Vodou; the name that had been misspelled and misspoken on one too many occasions.