There’s a dim flicker of light drizzled over a cemetery, slow-dancing with those sleepy kinds of shadows that are too lazy and honest to hide thieves and beasts. As the first sun sinks in retreat behind wild looking trees, the second charges upwards in between the crests of the faraway mountain borders. But these graves are for a few beautiful moments cloaked in a false-night twilight that summons those who are up-to-no-good.
Cloaks and hoods woven with branches and deadwood comb between the gravestones chasing after shrinking sunlight. They looked like men underneath blankets separating those lazy shadows behind them, letting them grow lonely and bold. These druids cut the palms of their hands with glinting blades and joined together. Now curdled motes of milky-green light introduced themselves, blinking into being, supplanting the natural glow.
Magic power sunk down to the earth, into the boot-pits and crushed weeds and flowers. It was dark again, but no longer silent. The ground quivered and took independent shape: a thing of vines and soil sluiced up from in between headstones and memorials and congealed atop of a central mausoleum – sinking the structure halfway down with its raw mass. A final beam of twilight framed upon its ‘head’, borrowed from a crushed statue of an angel. It had an appetite for more than stone; seemingly flesh too. Four fresh druids found their ankles bound and then themselves dragged into the dirt.
The Dredging thing with its tribute claimed, could now speak; “Why are you here?”
A shaman-witch clutching a rosary of black-pitch pearls broke through the pack and spoke “This is a place where things don’t go to die, but rather to be forgotten..” – Her voice wriggled like the answer to a riddle : “We are here to remember..”
The other cloaks agreed, “To Remember”.
So followed a swollen silence..
“Endeavor to remember, rest in pieces to be put together again. Yes, nobody ever truly dies.. But then again, nobody ever truly lived.” – The Dredge spoke with some arcane delight and sunk back to the earth- taking the other half of the mausoleum with it. The four sacrifices were returned from the earth with broken, violated bodies that reconstituted just enough to kneel; “We Remember.” And so did everything forgotten here, rising up from underground to bend the knee. Through hundreds of punctured lungs and piecemeal tongues they pledged as one. “We Remember.”