Enigmatic holy souls… I want to keep this draft on the backburner until I can think of an interesting hook to make it great.
He clutched her close, embracing his sister tightly for the last time. Around them the cortège watched with solemn humbled gazes. There they stood for a long time, together at the base of the ritual staircase.
“I don’t want you to go.” He whispered. His face was hot from holding back a flood of emotions and tears.
“I know. I know Jacob. But I’ll look after you. I’ll always be here. And I’ll be waiting.”
She kissed his forehead, and he kissed hers - his lips gently covering the seal of light inscribed on her skin above her brow. The glowing mark of champions. The holy symbol which marks the next to ascend. They reluctantly pulled apart, hands in each other’s, Jacob squeezing hers firmly.
“I’m proud of you. Your… strength.” These were the last words he could manage before breaking; the tears running down his face in a stoic display of deep grief. The onlookers understood, and the Giver took her hand to lead her up the steps towards the offering podium.
Halfway up the ritual stairs, the Giver released her hand - allowing her to ascend to the top alone. Step by step she approached the blazing holy light at its zenith; and as she neared the brilliant fury of the dying lantern the cortège joined in somber chorus.
Sage smoke and burning herbs wafted upwards as she ascended, billowing in clouds and covering the air in glittering sparks. She stood at the podium, prostrated beneath its holy light. Jacob, below at the base of the staircase collapsed to his knees. And he watched.
With angelic grace, she reached upwards towards the light… and as the holy flames embraced her, did she touch it. Souls entwined with a brilliant flash, and her mortal shell unravelled into crimson dust… drifting upwards and along with the sage and smoke. Renewed, eternal, bright and holy, the lantern blazed anew before the congregation, which had hushed in awe and respect for her selfless offering - and for Jacobs loss.
There he remained, collapsed at the base of the steps, hands balling in grief on his thighs, his hot tears soaking into the red soil beneath him.
Just as so many others had done before.
Just as the Saints had ordained.
Entity Classification
| Aggressiveness | 0/5 | Cheshires may attack out of fear, but they are the size of domestic house cats. You can handle a couple of scratches, right? |
|---|---|---|
| Rarity | 3/5 | While rare to encounter, Cheshires have been spotted across the majority of Levels; making it difficult to classify whether they are scarce or not. |
| Intelligence | 1/5 | Akin to domestic cats they can be trained and show distinct personalities and can imprint on their owners. |
| Pritoria Index | 1.333/5 | These little guys are enigmatic, aloof, and naturally adapted to the backrooms. They make for great pets. |
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Description
Lanterns are the souls of the dead manifest into the undying afterlife. Only the holiest of souls are chosen to ascend as lanterns.