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View character profile for: Atima Morsano
The coffin lay before her dark red silk interior glistening like a wet wound. The herb filled pillow with her initials monogrammed on its lacy edge wafted lavender and rose. The herbs had come from the cloister garden from the foot of the Statue of Orando the Dark Abbot the betrayer of the Lamb.
The herbs needed to betray her. They were usually there to guide the soul to heaven but that was not where she was going. Her trip would be in the other direction.
"It is beautiful father. The brothers have outdone themselves. Why did they use such finery on an object they were to bury in the ground?"
"Hunters have always been buried thus. The remains of those who are steeped in violence become powerful tools in the wrong hands but their souls are far more so. The finery is to speed the path to heaven. Less chance of being lured or lost."
"Will the 'wrong hands' come for my soul father? Will I need a silk lined coffin to speed me to heaven?"
"Yes my dear. But that will be a long time from now, remember? Your candle burns strong and tall in the sanctum never fear."
"The fears come unbidden father. I pray."
"I know child. It is my fault. I had to start your training so early. You take on so much for us at such a tender age. I am so proud of you."
"Yes my dear. The time nears. You will find your weapons already stowed. Get in the coffin."
"Yes father. I will miss you."
"And I you my dear child. The blessing of our lord be upon you. Now lay back."
As the lid closed she mouthed the words "I love you" silently. Her fears grew from her forbidden feelings.
She would be buried in the apse and the spell would be cast. If all went well she would be dug up by her ancestor who had called for assistance in just a few hours to hunt the ancient evils that plagued the old residents of the cathedral. If the spell did not work she would die of thirst or asphyxiation alone in the dark buried alive.