The day was fittingly dreary. It had been cloudy all morning, a constant drizzle dampening the earth. The hole was dug about a mile from the town at the base of the mountains under the shade of an ancient oak tree.
Esther wore a borrowed habit, her original one covered in blood from the previous night. She numbly watched as the grave was refilled with dirt, covering both Ren and Aeron who lay side by side with the black coat draped over both of them, thinking back to the last moments of the evening. She had tried to stop Ren, but had reached the young woman too late. By the time she grasped the gun to move it, the bullet had been shot and blood poured from Ren's skull, drenching the pavement and Esther.
The dirt was patted down once it had been returned to its rightful position, the priests who had buried the bodies placing the strips of grass back over the earth. A single, gray rock that they had pulled from the side of the mountain served as a tombstone, no marks made on its hardened surface to signify who lay by the roots of the oak tree.
No words were said as the gravediggers left the area. Only three were left standing by the tree; Amadea, Esther, and Abel.
"I wish I could have given them a proper burial…but putting them under the earth together will have to be enough."
Esther looked at Amadea. The older woman's eyes betrayed nothing, but Esther noticed how her tears mixed with the rain as they streamed down her face.
"I'm sure she would be happy with this," Esther said. "All she wanted was to be with him, and now she is."
Amadea sighed, turning toward the two as she did so. "Here you are, Father." She held a leather bound book in her hands, the edges worn and yellowing. "We found it in her room. I'm sure it will be safer at the Vatican than if I kept it here at Saint Anthony's."
"Thank you, Bishop." Abel nodded in thanks as he took the thick book from her. Amadea nodded back and started down the trail back to the town. He looked at the cover of the book, a faded diagram with the strange symbols on the front, the title long worn off, or possibly not even given to the book in the first place. Abel tucked it under his arm and spoke to Esther who still stared solemnly at the grave. "Shall we go then, Esther? We might catch cold if we stay here too much longer."
Esther nodded, placing a single rose from the church's garden on the grave along with the rosary that had come from the pocket of the black coat, and then turned towards the path back to Aosta. "Do you understand it, Father?" She questioned Abel as they started walking.
"I understand her sorrow, if that's what you mean. But I think she took the wrong approach to dealing with it. There is always another path, a new beginning, regardless of the pain of the past. It might take searching, but it is reachable." Abel gave a small, questioning smile. "Does that make sense, Miss Esther?"
"Mm…yes, I think it does." Esther gave a subtle smile, turning her gaze up to the sky. The rain had stopped, and she could see the sun peeking through the clearing clouds.
A lone figure walked to the small grave. The person stood staring for a while before leaning down and picking up the red rose, bringing it to their nose and breathing in the pleasant aroma.
After a few more seconds the figure sighed. "It's a pity that she had to die. The girl was quite useful. She was able to decipher all of those crazy symbols and find the missing link to completely reviving the dead." The figure tapped the rose against his lips. "Cain will not be pleased by this. Not only is the girl dead, but that damned priest has the book, and any of the notes that the girl had made."
The man turned from the grave. "I could always force someone else to bear the bad news, though. It is in my ability after all." He laughed lightly as he started his way back into the shadows of the forest from where he had come.
Dietrich von Lohengrin, Puppet Master of the Rozenkreuz Orden, looked back over his shoulder, peering at the small town in the distance. "Failure or no, though, it was nice to see my cute, little Esther again." Dietrich gave a gentle smile, a deceiving smile, which masked his wickedness before continuing on his path into the darkness.