Every day, like the pigeons it’s famous for, Saint Mark’s Square is flocked by tourists, visitors from every corner of the world, all desperate to indulge in the ancient city of Venice’s flamboyant history, with its enchanting maze of cobble-stoned alleyways and romantic winding canals, dappled with shiny gondolas; naïve tourists, oblivious that their days were numbered as Venice floated along a path to destruction. The apocalypse was nigh. Only three days to go. Natural forces had been released. Already the weather had changed. The humidity was oppressive. Venomous storms brewed. Dark forces stirred. Hidden behind the walls of Saint Mark’s Basilica, a ‘brotherhood’ of priests, driven by the insane demands of their Holy Father, had arisen to take revenge upon the invasion of tourists.
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