Rigor Mortis, by Pentamere

Published: Dec 27 2007

She was not filled with envy. She was not filled with spite.

The lid to her coffin closed above her and blue eyes caught the glint of the dying light. They instantly shut, bringing their own darkness. A smoky copper scent lingered on the tip of her tongue, sliding to the back of her throat.

Coil's smell followed her, to the point she felt sick with revulsion. Their bond had escalated to a point she was not comfortable with.

Yet, it was all for a purpose.

Coil was going to lead the temple. Coil would be the new priest.

She felt it like new blood burning in her belly. Regret seeped to the front of her mind. She tried to chase it away, but it was too late.

She was already replacing him.

She remembered seeing Urynmaal for the first time. Truly seeing him. She was promoted past fledgling, and he removed his hood, revealing his face. She admired him. She was his to command.

When did she begin to hate him so?

Dawn spread throughout the realm in a blinding light. Pentamere's mind slowly slipped away, her body hardening into rigor mortis.