Loren had come back to the Hollowed Grounds a few times in secret, without telling anyone where or why he was going. He’d made a promise, after all, and death didn’t change that.
The body lay before him, empty of the life that he’d once held so dear. Abasi’s features, ruined by the fire, were still beautiful to the Launceleyn. However, the husk of the other man’s was as soulless as the summoner felt these days.
Somewhere along the way, he’d run out of tears. Now he just felt drained, of everything. Joy, hope, energy, even sorrow. Sure, he kept moving, but it was habit more than anything else. A few flickers had life had begun to return to him as the season progressed, but they left as soon as he returned to this particular task.
Maybe that was why it was easy for him to stare at the painstaking instructions the undertaker had left behind for his death. Simple for the Launceleyn to pick up the tools and carefully remove the organs one by one and place them in their jars, then drain the liquid, then embalm the body. Straightforward to wait weeks for the body to dehydrate.
To come back and wash what remained with wine and oil and resin. To shroud Abasi’s body with linen strips and amulets, and pray over it.
Then came another waiting period, before Loren picked up the knife and opened the mouth. Before he carried the undertaker’s body to the tomb that the Launceleyn had already prepared beside the Manor. Placed the mummy in the sarcophagi and put the death mask and wooden name tag on. Slid the lid into place. Placed the canopic jars. Chanted the rest of the spells, rites, and rituals. Slid the entrance of the tomb into place. Walked away. Didn't look back.
It should’ve been impossible.
But it wasn’t.
The body lay before him, empty of the life that he’d once held so dear. Abasi’s features, ruined by the fire, were still beautiful to the Launceleyn. However, the husk of the other man’s was as soulless as the summoner felt these days.
Somewhere along the way, he’d run out of tears. Now he just felt drained, of everything. Joy, hope, energy, even sorrow. Sure, he kept moving, but it was habit more than anything else. A few flickers had life had begun to return to him as the season progressed, but they left as soon as he returned to this particular task.
Maybe that was why it was easy for him to stare at the painstaking instructions the undertaker had left behind for his death. Simple for the Launceleyn to pick up the tools and carefully remove the organs one by one and place them in their jars, then drain the liquid, then embalm the body. Straightforward to wait weeks for the body to dehydrate.
To come back and wash what remained with wine and oil and resin. To shroud Abasi’s body with linen strips and amulets, and pray over it.
Then came another waiting period, before Loren picked up the knife and opened the mouth. Before he carried the undertaker’s body to the tomb that the Launceleyn had already prepared beside the Manor. Placed the mummy in the sarcophagi and put the death mask and wooden name tag on. Slid the lid into place. Placed the canopic jars. Chanted the rest of the spells, rites, and rituals. Slid the entrance of the tomb into place. Walked away. Didn't look back.
It should’ve been impossible.
But it wasn’t.
you are lost, hope is gone
but you must go on
Loren
Base Code by Sky!
