Arayah sat high in the limbs of Marcia, the willow tree, overlooking The Sacred Cemetery. The waning silver light of the moon filtered over the children's graves as their spirits slept. While watching over the graveyard, the gypsy thought of her son and the possibilities of what Luchedia might be up to.
The night dragged on as did her thoughts and it seemed it was going to be a peaceful evening. She was thankful for this as her spirit was disquieted. She strongly sensed something was going to happen and once it did, she was going to be involved in a battle for an uncertain amount of time. Her motherly instincts warned her she may need to be more protective of her son. Something terrible was going to happen to him, though she didn't know when or how.
Arayah closely surveyed the outer rim of the cemetery when, to the southwest corner, she hear two muffled male voices and then the shuffled of feet as one of them hurried off. She squinted her emerald eyes, honing in on the action. An old drunk fumbled over the cemetery fence as he scrambled to get away after revealing where rumor said a monk buried a gypsy and then was somehow buried alive.
No one was ever sure who started the awful stories, but only a select few ever dared find out the truth behind it. Most everyone knew about The Sacred Cemetery and of the "strange" things that happened there. Those who dared enter often ran away mad at what the experienced.
Arayah turned her gaze back toward the way the man came and there she saw something that frightened her. She drew in a deep, sharp breath and held it for a moment. "It's him," she said, finally exhaling.
There was Brylar as blue-skinned and bumpy as she remembered him. He was on his knees digging with his giant hands. But what was he truing to unearth?
Arayah perused the area around Brylar more carefully and realized in shock and horror that he was digging up her body.
"No..." She began to scream until a pale, ghostly hand other than her own, covered her mouth. She slowly looked over shoulder and saw Luchedia hovering in the air by her side. Arayah was happy she was able to ban Luchedia from setting foot in the cemetery ever again, yet she regretted not having included the air space above the cemetery.
"Hush, gypsy," said Luchedia with a malicious sneer, her eyes glowing an intense red. "You are about to get what's coming to you."
Luchedia wrapped her free arm around Arayah and held her tightly until the time came for her to let go.
Brylar jerked his head up at the sound of a woman's voice. He quickly glanced around and seeing no one, continued to dig for Arayah's body.
An hour passed before he grabbed tattered clothing. Though the material was heavily stained with soil he could make out the gypsy's once clean and colorful skirt.
He continued digging until he was able to free the female body from her grave and haul her up to the surface. The putrid stench of damp soil, rotting flesh and blood was strong enough even to nauseate Brylar, even when smells of this nature normally would not bother him.
Brylar held Arayah's body in his lap and scrutinized every inch of her. Other than being dirty with a few scratches and bruises and a on in her that that had begun to heal before she was buried, the woman's body seemed intact. But then where is the smell coming from? he thought. He glanced back into the dark, uneven grave and glimpsed the remains of a brown robe covering a mound of gloopy flesh and glinting white bone.
"So the drunkard was right," he said in a coarse, deep whisper. "The monk and the gypsy were buried together."
Brylar thought of the drunk and the stories he told of how he stayed many nights in the cemetery and spoke with the children's spirits. he was there the night Jerard brought Arayah with him as well as a shovel. The man regretted having been too drunk to help the woman and the monk's malicious acts allowed to expire.
