Stories From the Deep Vol 2

by Independent Cataclysm

Man's darksign was misunderstood as a gift that allowed them to escape death. Once this gift was put into question the inquiry into the abyss began, that day a priest became a scholar.

2. Act 1

Act 1: The Mourning Ritual

Most of the house giveth plenty, which is more than the lion's share, for that we are grateful. O'r days are filled with purpose, each morn we sing the gospels of the old miracles and dawn great warmth into the hearts of men. At dusk we tend to the graves, rest their souls, so they may keep their sleep. Lest they be one of the rising husks, we lay them back into earth's bosom.

We have committed those who willed it to ash, while the others are receiving their final rites. True peace lies in the solemn dark, tis a depth few will brave and none with the power to shunt it entirely. By this merit we devote ourselves to this road, picketed by great bloodshed, to ensure dignity for the deceased. Some say we're engaging in a tryst with death, those souls couldn't be more wrong. We have a divine warmth embedded within.

Etched on o'r hearts a ring of fire, a sigil of unconditional love from the gods as tribute to o'r devotion. However, one was left unsatisfied and despite his inclinations, we respect the wisdom of o'r eldest. An assertion, most heretical, is that this gift is a curse. That it is not etched on o'r hearts rather shackling o'r souls. Perhaps the inner most part of ourselves is truly dark…and considering none properly researched this inquiry shouldn't be discounted.

Mayhaps it tis a necessary fate that we silence o'r song, and shift o'r role from men of rites to research. Tis a cruel alignment, then again perhaps o'r routine is a damnation, that we are consigned to servitude.

It was once that we gave the dead everlasting peace when do we get to die? When is o'r time? When do we get to rest in a cold, dark place? When do we get peace?

O'r elder posited a simple inquiry, not a heresy, but a question grinding nonetheless.

"When the candles go out and the light fades, who are we then?"

Who are we indeed? Are we free? Can we finally die? Is this ring of fire a prison?

So much needs answering, he alone shall brave the depths of the abyss with to learn o'r nature. To learn of the dark, the below, how not light but flame is life. Be it as it may warmth cannot exist without sacrifice. It requires fuel to maintain itself.

We refuse to become ash for some nameless light. We will pursue and return as wardens on o'r post to grant death for we are not jailors.

He is right, man deserves dignity.