The inside of the shrine felt like a tomb. The Creature was gone again. But Ciprian was not alone.
A sliver of moonlight pierced the broken window, creating nighttime shadows in the darkness. One shadow was darker than the rest.
The solid shape of Sacha's body lay in tainted repose on the altar, its limbs recently re-arranged by Ciprian's own hand to look as if he were merely sleeping after the Creature had toyed with the young man's corpse as it liked to do when it was feeling particularly covetous.
Now Ciprian sat on the ground against the wall, watching over him in death when he should have watched over him in life. The stone at his back chilled him through his robes, while the bracelet Mallin had once made for Sacha as a childhood memento burned with Disorder in his pocket where he'd hidden it.
He was unable to sleep. Unable to leave.
