Desecration
But no one ever went to the Field of Ash and Bones. It was a forbidden place. Saiyans went to the edge and gazed across the wasteland, but no one ever so much as stepped on it. Even animals avoided crossing it. Birds wouldn't fly over it and no plants grew there. It was one of the biggest taboos on the whole planet. Paragus wasn't sure if there were actually laws about it, but he was sure he'd get in the biggest trouble imaginable if anyone saw him messing around there. He'd probably get beaten up, maybe even killed.
If he were to go there, he would have to go at night. Preferably a very dark, cloudy night. If he moved quickly, he could probably get away with it. No one looked across the Field of Ash and Bones expecting to see someone out there. He glanced at the calendar above his desk. Three days until Burning Night. Wasn't there supposed to be an extraordinary amount of magic in the air at that time of year? Dark magic, as well. If he got the time and the place right, all he would have to worry about would be the ritual itself. For he still had no idea how to carry it out.
He went back to the library the next day, and examined spells said to effect the healing of injuries. If someone could be brought from the brink of near death… He asked his friend from Perelandra if he had anything on the occult, and it turned out Turles had a sensational but largely irrelevant tome called 'The Dark Goddess', which nevertheless gave Paragus some useful information. It stated most moon magic required an offering, and the Goddess' particular favourite offering was blood and white flowers. It also said true magic was very rare and it always involved great sacrifice. Paragus mostly ignored this last part.
The next evening he was very tired, but he sat at his desk for an hour and contemplated the pressing problem of exactly what he was going to do at the Field of Ash and Bones. He would make the Goddess an offering of his blood, spilt over some white flowers. He would ask that his wife be brought back. But surely that would not be enough? Simple prayers required such an offering. Perhaps for something this big he should give something more. More blood, perhaps? Unbidden, the image of a cut out heart flew into his mind. Paragus shuddered. He couldn't possibly offer his own heart.
Once again, an evil thought entered his mind. It didn't have to be his heart. Not that Paragus was contemplating murder. He was a quiet man, and anyway, he was sure the Goddess wouldn't appreciate the sacrifice of one of her children. He was thinking of Cochise's heart.
It certainly made sense. The magic would revive her heart, and her body would come back with it. Perhaps this was the secret contained in the Book of the Hollow Moon? He would bury the heart, make the offering, and perhaps, when he came back in the morning, his wife would be waiting for him. His exhausted head spinning with this plan, Paragus went to bed. He dreamed about the moon that night.
In the morning everything seemed different. It always does. He contemplated the plan he had made in rising horror. To dig up his wife's grave? To desecrate the most holy site on Vegeta? To try and bring the dead back to life? The whole thing seemed deeply blasphemous, and he was beginning to think it wouldn't work anyway. Perhaps it would be best to call it off, to pretend he hadn't even thought of it.
As Paragus put on his clothes these words made more and more sense. It was foolishness to try and bring the dead back, anyway. They were happy where they were. All the books said so.
His thoughts were interrupted by a strange noise from a few rooms away, a regular sobbing noise. It sounded like Mehetabel. He pulled on his shirt and walked to her room, which had once belonged to her mother.
'Mehta?' he called. He walked into the room to see his daughter, that brave, proud little girl, crying, her face red and swollen.
'Mummy's not coming back, is she?' Paragus froze in the centre of the room. For a minute he wondered if Mehetabel had somehow known what he was planning and now found out he had given up. But he shook these silly thoughts aside. She was just crying over her mother's death. He opened his mouth, wondering what to say.
'No child,' he said at last. 'I'm sorry.' It was best not to tell her what he was going to do, in case it didn't work and she was disappointed. Burning Night tomorrow. He had to act fast. He'd go to his wife's grave today, and tomorrow… tomorrow he'd do the thing he didn't have a name for.
It would be a good idea to ensure Mehetabel was out of harm's way while all this was going on. He took her down to his sister-in-law's house that morning, explained he had some crucially important business over the next few days.
The sister-in-law kept asking questions, wondering why he was leaving so close to Burning Night, but Paragus spun a story about a business trip to West Point. The sister-in-law seemed to believe it. She told him goodbye, and said it was a good thing he seemed to be getting over his grief- he had seemed almost insane the last time she had seen him.
This last word gave Paragus some pause, but he wasn't going to let it get in the way of his mission. Not by this stage.
He went straight to the public cemetery from there. His wife's grave was easy to find- he'd visited it so many times. Paragus suddenly felt sick. He couldn't do what he needed to do in broad daylight, when someone could appear at any time. In fact, he was beginning to doubt he could do it at all. He would have to dig up her grave, ruin her body- an act of desecration he couldn't possibly perform on someone he loved. He bit his lip, stiffening his resolve. He was doing this for her. He'd have to come back tonight.
He went back and did some work at the inn he'd been neglecting so much lately, wandering from one minor task to another. Nothing could distract him from the immense anxiety he felt at the moment. The night that he was dreading seemed to approach with amazing rapidity. As the afternoon wore on he found himself spending most of his time staring at the wall feeling vaguely sick. He couldn't bear this suspense. He turned back to The Dark Goddess.
It was midnight, and the maroon-coloured sky was worryingly clear. Hundreds of crystalline stars and a reproachful waning moon watched Paragus as he stood above his wife's grave. He could feel their eyes upon him, watching him. He knew they were suns millions of miles away. But part of his brain kept telling him they were all the dead Saiyans, enthroned in the sky, watching him prepare for his great crime with disgust.
He brushed aside these fanciful thoughts. He wasn't going insane with grief. This was a proper plan, and it was going to work. Nevertheless, he felt slightly nauseous as he knelt and began to dig.
All Saiyans are strong, but Paragus was really quite below average for one of his kind in that respect. He had never been especially interested in fighting and training. He was a quiet, reserved man who had spent most of the Saiyan-Tsufurun war working in a small factory that made army supplies. Digging the huge clumps of earth and rocks was very hard work for him. It took him nearly an hour to scrape the first earth of the wooden surface of the coffin, sweat running in rivers down his back, and another two hours to uncover the whole surface.
As he looked at the panel of wood, a wave of nausea wracked his whole body. He leaned over the top of the hole he had dug, expecting to vomit onto the grass. Nothing came. He gripped his hands together, panting. He didn't want to do this next bit. But he had come this far.