Disclaimer: I own nothing written here.
Author's Pre-story Ramble: Short, yes, but it sets up what I feel is neccesary for the rest of the story. Please review.
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The penitent stood, moving close to the warded box. He knelt down on the rough stones and bowed to the object. Lips moving, he soundlessly uttered a few simple phrases. The man left just as the sun was setting, retreating down the mountain into the darkness. The monks that guarded the shrine shut the light, wooden doors for the night. "It will rain tonight," one of them said to the others. "Look at those dark clouds."
During the late hours of the night, the lock on the simple box clicked up and the ward scrolls burst into flame. The evil shadow spread from its containment, threads of pure black spirit moving out in twisting tendrils. They groped for purchase, found it, and moved on to claim more territory. So swiftly it moved that the guardians of the shrine were overwhelmed before they could formulate a defense against the angry, vindictive entity.
The rain that night was very strong. It washed away parts of the stairway from the mountainside, along with the blood pooled around the bodies in the courtyard.
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Author's Post-story Ramble: If this is incredibly horrible, please let me know so I can edit it. Hope you enjoyed!