Vita - Chapter Four - Elderly

 2E 398-445

Lia found a home within the hidden Trux sanctuary. Her questions about what happened to the souls of the dead after they left the physical world drove her into years of obsessive study.
Was there an afterlife awaiting those who died, or was it simply oblivion?
As she trained and studied within the sanctuary, she slowly became a novice practitioner of magical runes. Despite the range of skills open to her once she learned to read and construct arcane runes, she never strayed far from the realm of the dead. The graveyard above the sanctuary provided suitable test subjects for Lia’s morbid magical experiments. After years of practice, she was able to reanimate the bodies of the dead. The rotting remains of the townsfolk became her undead thralls. While she had found a sort of immortality, it was only the body that persisted in this undead state, the soul, the consciousness was still lost.
Lia’s skills with understanding and creating magical runes continued to improve over the years. Once she had mastered reanimating the remains of the dead she moved on to other necromantic arts. All of it was in search of a means of immortality for herself. In totality Lia spent forty-seven-years living and learning within the Trux sanctuary. By the time she was ready to leave the haven and apply all she had learned she was far from the filthy frail woman freezing in the autumn cold. Lia had become a powerful mage and necromancer. One with the means of achieving her eternal existence. All she needed was the means of paying the price that this immortality would cost.
It was time to return to Vita’s holy temple.

2E 445

Vita’s temple hadn’t changed much within the forty-nine-years that Lia had been away. The vast gardens outside of the massive building were still teaming with life. Various insects sang to each other while the sounds of hidden nocturnal predators stalking their prey filled the cold night air. The temple, more of a medical centre than most traditional places of worship, blended in with the overgrown nature of the gardens. The walls were covered in ropey vines that had been allowed to grow wild and free where they pleased since cutting them would have been against the teachings of Vita.
Lia’s memories of her happy life within this temple had long since faded with age. The only thing that persisted was a vague sense of safety by her mother’s side. Vita taught these fools that life was a gift, but Lia knew better; life was an unfair, random, and chaotic mess. It was time that she proved this reality to those that lived within Vita’s temple.
Once the townsfolk of the nearby Oakenheart woke up in the morning they would find their graveyards emptied of their deceased occupants. These corpses now marched in an unorganized hoard behind Lia as she approached the temple in the dead of night.
The old woman that led this morbid parade had changed a lot from the bright-eyed little girl she had once been. Her skin had lost its once brown shade and had taken on a sickly pallid colour with dark shadows under her eyes. A greasy tangled mess of grey hair hung from her head, the rough, uneven, ends that hung at her jawline were evidence of a hasty self-cut with little care for appearances. In contrast to her messy face and hair, her robes looked almost regal. They were constructed from a soft black fabric that absorbed what little light there was reflected from the many moons that hung in the sky above her. This gave the fabric an almost unnaturally dark appearance. The opening of the robes hung diagonally, with a polished black metal edging along the seams of the robe. The trousers were very much of the same design while the undershirt was a simple linen thing. Her outfit was finished with steel-toe-capped boots made from a black leather.
Runes carved painfully into Lia’s arms began to necrotise and decay as the magic contained within them activated. The garden began to wilt away as she approached with her undead army. She couldn’t help but glance towards the large pond off to her right as she entered the grounds. The Lilypad’s started to darken and curl into themselves while the surface of the water erupted into chaos as the fish within the pond thrashed against the foul necromantic magic. This scared the slumbering ducks that emerged from their hidden nooks and crannies before attempting to fly away from the danger. A few made it far enough away to escape the influence of Lia’s dark magic, but most failed to get airborne or simply dropped from the sky shortly after leaving the ground. The young child that she had once been hoped that Dina’s children had been among those lucky enough to have escaped. As she continued to stare at the nostalgic body of water the fish lost their futile battle against her magic and floated lifelessly to the surface. By the time that Lia reached the entrance of the temple the garden was little more than a mess of brown sludge and decaying animal carcasses. The smell of rot hung sickly sweet in the air. This would be an unwelcome smell within one of Vita’s temples. That thought made Lia smile.
Four of her undead thralls bashed in the doors to the temple. Only a few scared healers were awake in the lobby. They were completely unprepared for such an attack. Their pained screams filled the temple, alerting everyone to the danger. Lia allowed her hoard to unleash itself upon her victims. Each healer, monk, nun, or family that fell to her undead mob would soon stand back up and join the army of the undead. Lia’s attack was a complete slaughter. Husbands and fathers would fall only to rise once more to begin feasting on the families they had died defending.
Lia made her way through the carnage towards the infirmary, towards the morgue, where she could be at home with only the spiders and corpses for company. Her undead army had been given free rein to massacre and feed on all but one person within the temple. She waited for her loyal soldiers to bring her target to her. Countless lives were lost while Lia sat and waited, playing with the now rusty autopsy knife. Eventually the heavy wooden door was pushed open as an undead reptilian woman pulled a struggling man into the room. Lia looked at the thrall, this one was fresh, the blood dripping from her broken jaw was still a healthy red colour. She wondered who this woman had once been. How had she ended up so far from her homeland. It didn’t matter anymore; her soul had left this physical realm. Perhaps it was now with Vita, but Lia doubted that very much.
“Stop!” Lia’s voice was almost impossible to make out over the symphony of death. Still, the thrall, able to always hear any command from its mistress, complied and dropped the terrified man to the ground. “Wait by the door, make sure no one else comes in or out.” The zombie complied, taking up position in front of the heavy wooden door.
“Lia?” The scared man barely recognised her after so many years. It was understandable, she barely recognised him. He had become an old man, with tired looking skin and a grey, almost white beard.
“Hello Anton.” Her voice sounded hoarse as she tried to speak over the sounds of butchery.
“Why are you doing this?” Anton’s voice sounded old and frail, but there was something under the surface; pain, and grief.
“I’m so close to defeating death, to leaving that fear of absolute oblivion behind, to becoming truly immortal. Nothing is free though, so I needed to arrange the payment.” Lia held up the autopsy knife. Anton’s eyes dilated in fear as he saw the familiar weapon.
“You don’t have to do this!”
“Unlike your Goddess, who shirks any and all that dare question her baseless claims of eternal life, offered with no proof, no evidence, Trux offers the truth. They offer more than just that, they offer evidence of the truth.”
“Please Lia, don’t do this! Stop this slaughter! Please!” Anton began to ceaselessly beg for the lives of those within the temple as well as himself. Eventually his pleas became a pathetic blubbering of nonsense. Lia continued her explanation heedless of her brother’s breakdown.
“All Trux asks in return is payment in the form of human hearts. I thought there was a certain poetry in giving the Deity of the dead the hearts of those devoted to the Goddess of life. My thralls can manage everyone out there.” Lia pointed the rusty end of her knife towards the heavy wooden door. “But you, Anton, I felt I owed you a more personal goodbye.” Lia looked down at the pathetic frail old man loudly sobbing to himself in fear. She looked at the thrall standing ready by the door. “Hold him still.” The corpse lifted Anton into a standing position as he thrashed against his captor. His struggles were useless. The corpse would allow her muscles, skin, and bones to rip and break before she released him. Lia used her knife to cut open her brother’s robes and undershirt so that she could get to his bare chest. As she plunged the autopsy knife into Anton’s chest and cut into his flesh the cacophony of screams and dying entered the room. Her brother’s screams were forty-nine-years in the making. His heart would make for a special offering.
By the time that the sun breached the horizon the temple of Vita had fallen silent.
The screams of the dying had given way to the silence of the dead.

Pokémon Adventures Vol.4 Review

Written by Hidenori Kusaka
Art by Mato
Published by VIZ Media, LLC, San Francisco, CA (2009)
ISBN: 978-1-4215-3057-4

The year is 1998, Pokémon fever has spread across Japan and is also beginning to infect the western world. Volumes one to three of the Pokémon Adventures manga have sold very well. The next game in the Pokémon series has just released, which is Pokémon Yellow, a remaster of the original games but reworked to include references to the anime. This presents a problem for the Pokémon Adventures manga. How are you supposed to adapt a story that you have already told in your last three volumes? Somehow writer Hidenori Kusaka managed to do just that, by expertly rearranging aspects of the world and story that were left out of the first three volumes of the manga. Then artist Mato expertly brings this amazing story to life with their beautiful, and often, striking artwork! Volume four continues the amazing quality from the last three volumes. Let’s dive into this manga and unpack what makes it so good!

Vita - Chapter Three - Adulthood

 2E 398

Oakenheart was a fair-sized town that benefited from the trade offered by those travelling between the capital city of Athelbury and the coastal city of Navelton. For most people Oakenheart was a welcoming town with well-lit streets and plenty of protection from either the Quilldrake soldiers or knights from any one of the nearby orders. The local townsfolk were accustomed to all sorts of the many species and races that called this world home. Oakenheart stood as a shining example of hospitality within the Quilldrake kingdom.
But every day has its night, every light casts its shadow, and even the friendliest of towns have a dangerous underground network of criminals and cultists. Oakenheart was no different. This truth was best known to those that society had left behind, abandoned to the harsh cold reality; the homeless, mentally ill, and outsiders to traditional family values. In her search for answers, Lia had found herself tangled up within the web of secret cultists that called this fair city home. Despite the murkiness of her new community’s morality, she found the freedom to question the motives and truthfulness of the Gods freeing. It was these very questions that had caught the attention of the Trux cultists. Lia felt that she was within reach of immortality, or at least the means of acquiring it. Everything in Honosreach had its price, and this was no different.
Which is what brought Lia to her current situation.
The Drunken Pony was one of many taverns within Oakenheart. Unlike all the other taverns though, this one contained a particular man, one Lia had deemed an acceptable target. He was an abuser of women, a selfish person who cared only for his own pleasure.
The many moons hung high in the sky, standing in silent judgment. Most of Oakenheart was smothered in a comfortable darkness. This part of town stood out due to how well lit it was, with plenty of streetlamps covering the surrounding buildings with a flickering orange light. Despite the warm glow the streets were still cold as an autumn chill blanketed the town.
Lia shivered as she pulled the few filthy blankets she had to keep herself warm closer to her cold skin. It did little to help. As she waited, she focused on her breathing, enjoying the sight of the cloud of warm air as she exhaled. Despite what the bitter cold implied, each fresh cloud that escaped her lungs was proof that she was still alive. Proof that these years of living hard and rough hadn’t yet killed her.
The sound of the tavern’s opening door knocking the nearby bell caused her eyes to dart towards the doorway. A man, struggling to stand under his own balance tumbled out of the warm tavern. The flickering light from the streetlamps coated his face in darkness. Lia was unable to guarantee that this was her target. Her frustration mounted as the drunken lout stumbled towards the streetcorner. He stopped directly under the streetlamp closest to herself. While she could feel his unwelcome stare, the light directly above him masked his face in even more darkness than before. Lia felt vulnerable in the cold openness of the street. As the drunken man continued to stare at her, he pulled a cigarette case free from his jacket pocket and removed one. When the cigarette was held in his lips, he pulled another free before returning the case to his pocket.
“Fancy a smoke lass?” His voice was familiar. Lia’s heart leapt at the possibility of this being her target, before icy cold fear then gripped her at the realization of what she had to do if he was. She felt for the autopsy knife tucked into her waistband. It was the same weapon she had threatened her brother with two years ago. Now though, it meant safety, and perhaps more.
“Sure thing mister.” She answered in as innocent a voice as she could muster as she got to her feet. The remains of the temple robes, undershirt, trousers and workers boots covered her frail body. Her precious blankets hung over her shoulders as she made her way towards the drunken man. Lia strained to make out his face but couldn’t in the darkness. He then pulled a matchbox free from his jacket pocket and lit one of the fire sticks. Lia focused on his face. He moved the tiny flame towards the cigarette in his mouth. As the tobacco inside the cigarette began to burn the match lit up his face enough to let Lia know that this was her target. She smiled to herself, but this was mistaken by the man as instead intended for him.
“You got a pretty smile, girlie.” He held out the unlit cigarette towards her.
“Thank you mister.” She took the smoke from him and placed it between her lips. “Can I have a light please?”
“Of course.” As he spoke, he leaned his face towards hers, as if he was coming in for a kiss. Lia prepared herself for any danger. He pressed his lit cigarette against her unlit one and took a drag, allowing the flame to spread from his smoke to hers. She inhaled the tobacco smoke as he moved away from her. “Ya’know, I could help you out with cash, if you wanted to have a little fun.” Lia removed the cigarette from her mouth and smiled as she let the smoke emerge from between her lips.
“Sure thing mister. But where would we go?” She punctuated the sentence with another drag from the cigarette. While she didn’t smoke very often, the tobacco helped calm her nervousness.
“Follow me.” He grabbed her wrist, tight, and pulled her towards one of the nearby alleyways. The shadow from the two buildings either side of them hid them from view. Although the various unattended supplies, and wooden crates from the nearby shops made it difficult to navigate. As the drunken man stumbled down the alleyway, Lia lost her blankets.
Eventually she found herself pressed up against the cold stone brickwork. The smell of old ale hit her before she felt the man’s lips pressed up against her own with his tongue forcing its way into her mouth. She panicked and reached for the autopsy knife tucked into her waistband. As she gripped the wooden handle of her weapon, she felt the man’s hand trying to force itself into her trousers. As he slid his hand down there, he found it sliced open on the blade of Lia’s weapon. He screamed a profanity at the sudden pain and Lia attempted to cover his mouth with her left hand as she pulled the knife free with her right. The darkness made it nearly impossible to see what she was doing so she ended up only covering his chin with her hand. As he realised what was happening, he bit down onto her hand, drawing blood as he did so. She bit her own lip to avoid screaming herself, and readjusted her hand, finally covering his mouth. Her right hand plunged the knife into his flesh. Lia wasn’t sure what she had expected this moment to feel like, but it wasn’t anything like this. The knife hit something hard and jerked to the side; this awkward motion sprained her wrist. She bit down harder on her lip as the pain ran up her arm like a jolt of electricity. The man struggled to free himself from her grip. Thanks to his superior size he was able to push her to the side, but the knife came with her. Lia hit the floor hard; more pain erupted across her body. She got to her feet as quickly as possible and looked for her target. He was screaming something unintelligible as he struggled back down the alleyway. Lia moved after him. Catching him wasn’t difficult as he tripped on one of the empty crates littering the alley. Lia used her left hand to find the man’s scruffy hair, gripping it tight when she found it. She then stabbed the knife towards where she expected his neck and throat to be. It missed and hit his collar bone. This caused more pain to shoot up her arm as the knife once again jerked to the side. No time for this. She pulled the knife free again and aimed higher. This time it hit what felt like his throat. As if he was trying to confirm her hit, the man began to emit a wet gurgling sound as he tried to inhale. Lia pulled the knife free and plunged it back in. The cold autumn chill was replaced with a wet warmth as she repeatedly plunged the knife into the man’s throat. She continued this vicious assault until the gurgling sound ceased, and the man’s body went limp.
It was done.
Lia rolled over onto her back and allowed herself to exhale. She smiled as a cloud of warm air obscured her view of the judgemental moons above her. Then, as the realisation of what she had just done hit her, she started to sob to herself. She only stopped when she felt the warm puddle of blood begin to soak through her robes, snapping her back to the task at hand. After she wiped away the tears from her face, she rolled the man over onto his back and got to work on the next awful task of the night.

Oakenheart’s graveyard was located on the outskirts of town. It was a quiet and forgotten place, peacefully hidden in a vale of darkness. By the time that Lia reached this morbid venue of death, the moons were dipping below the horizon. The sun hadn’t yet crested the skyline, but the subtle increase in light heralded its presence. There wasn’t much time left before daybreak made the sordid business that Lia was dealing in dangerous.
At the centre of the graveyard stood a mausoleum. To most of the townsfolk, this mausoleum was no different from those around it. It was, however, the concealed entrance to the hideout of the Trux cultists. Lia nervously entered the graveyard; her robes were covered in the blood of her victim. She had used her blankets to cover most of the incriminating evidence, but she knew that wasn’t enough. Between what could still be seen of the blood, the still bleeding bite on her hand, and the gruesome object wrapped up in a messy blanket, it was obvious that she was guilty of some foul crime. She made her way, as quickly as she could, towards the central mausoleum. As she reached the door she fumbled for the key, she had been given by the cultist that had contacted her weeks prior. Lia nervously removed it from her pocket and unlocked the heavy stone door. It took what little remained of her strength to push the door open. A brazier burned bright on the tomb at the centre of the room, coating the dusty interior with a warm glow. Lia entered the morbid structure and pushed the door closed behind her. This place reminded her of her old perch within the temple’s morgue. Only the spiders and corpses for company.
Lia realised how safe she felt within this mausoleum. She was safely hidden away from the eyes of the public. The brazier offered her warmth, a feeling she had almost forgotten during her years sleeping on the streets. What remained of her guilt at her recent murder began to melt away in this macabre warmth. She quickly unwrapped the gory prize from the blanket. Before long Lia was holding the still wet heart of her recent victim in her hands. A grotesque payment for her means of immortality, but not one she was above paying.
She threw the organ into the flames of the brazier. At first the wet blood caused the flame to sputter and crackle, but after a few moments the heart began to burn as it fed the fire. As her gift was accepted by Trux, the Deity of the dead, the coffin slid back into the stone wall of the mausoleum revealing a flight of stairs that led down into the shadows.
A figure, almost completely obscured by the darkness waited at the bottom. As Lia made her way towards them, they spoke in a voice as shrill and frigid as the dead themselves.
“Welcome to the family, sister.”

Death and Video Games

Dying is a part of almost every video game, you either die, or kill, hundreds of times in the average game. Even in games that try to focus less on the minute-to-minute gameplay and instead try to emphasis their world and/or story you will most likely have killed hundreds of people and died at least a dozen times by the time you reach the credits. The Last of Us is a fantastic example of this. Death even creeps into the cozy genre of gaming. Just look at Stardew Valley that opens with the death of your character’s grandfather. Then we have games aimed at younger players, like Pokémon, that attempt to downplay any connection to death and dying. Defeated pokémon don’t die, they faint, only to be revived at the nearest pokécentre. But then we see Marowak haunting the Pokémon Tower, or Ogerpon’s former master being killed in the Gen 9 DLC. Death is still a vital part of these more family friendly games. Now that we understand the many ways that we see death, and even deal it out to others, I’d like to start to understand the relationship between it and gaming. So, let’s ask and then try to answer a simple question.
What relationship does gaming have with death?

Vita - Chapter Two - Adolescence

 2E 396

Within the temple’s right wing, towards the back of the infirmary, on the ground floor, resided the morgue. This was a dark room, lit with only a few candles resting upon the stonework surface at the back of the room and two sconces, one either side of the heavy wooden door. These flames created long, dark, shadows that flickered and danced along the walls of this unloved space. Within a temple dedicated to life, this room of death was often ignored, pushed away from the forefront of the minds of those that called this temple home. Six tables took up the bulk of the room, each of them built from strong oak which had aged over the years. The bodies of those the temple healers were unable to save occupied four of these tables. Each one covered with white linen sheets. These sheets had been removed from the faces of the bodies by the hidden dweller of this dire chamber.
Hidden within the dark shadows, atop the shelves of supplies at the back of the room, a troubled nineteen-year-old Lia perched. She liked it here, only the spiders and corpses for company. She stared at the still, empty, bodies below her; the things that had once been people. The recent argument with her brother repeated itself within her mind.
How could he be so foolish?
She clenched her fist tight, feeling the sting of pain as her fingernails began to dig into the flesh of her palm. The pain was a welcome distraction. Proof that she was not like those empty bodies below her. Eleven years had passed since she had witnessed her mother slip from a person to a body. From a she, to an it. The shock of her death had sent Lia and her brother in two different directions. Anton had leaned in closer to the temple, relied on them while he grieved, which strengthened his faith in Vita. He was now a twenty-five-year-old man, and a healer devoted to Vita.
Lia had become the black sheep of the temple. She had begun to question the teachings of the Goddess of life. Vita taught that life was a gift that should be cherished, nurtured, and protected. This teaching stood in complete contradiction to the lesson taught by one of the bodies in front of Lia right now. Three of the bodies were of a natural age for death to have collected their souls. Lia would have guessed they were within their seventies or eighties. But the fourth body. The boy couldn’t have been any older than fifteen. As far as Lia could understand it, life wasn’t some wonderful gift, it was a chaotic mess. You could be young, fit, and seemingly healthy and then just die because your heart was simply too weak to continue. This had been what had happened to her mother. Maybe the dead child in front of her had fallen down a flight of stairs or had been unlucky enough to have caught an illness too strong for the healers. Whatever had killed him was just another part of the chaos that was life.
For a while after the loss of her mother, Lia had latched onto the idea that life didn’t end with death. That souls would be able to spend eternity with their chosen Deity. She had gone searching for stories of those able to communicate with the dead. All she had found were stories of souls trapped within the physical world as ghosts, wraths, liches, or other forms of the undead. She had found no evidence of anyone being able to talk with those that had passed on from this physical realm. Despite what all the faithful within this temple told her, Lia could find no evidence that life continued after a soul left the physical realm. As far as she could understand it, the evidence pointed towards a soul just ceasing to exist when it left the physical realm. This, oblivion, this, true death, was not something that Lia could allow to happen to her. Any existence was surely better than no existence at all!
Such a claim was heresy. It went against what the Gods and Goddesses had assured their faithful. To claim they were either mistaken or intentionally hiding the truth would have been heretical doctrine within almost any church.
Yet, as Lia stared into the absent blank stare of the dead boy below her, she could believe nothing less than this. It was what the evidence pointed to.
The loud sound of her brother opening the heavy door to the morgue pulled her attention away from the bodies.
“Lia?” His voice was trying to sound concerned, but the irritation was still obvious after their last argument. She had fled from their shared dorm room, slamming the door behind her, and had hidden within her new favourite spot.
How long had he been looking for her?
The flickering of torchlight from the open door told her that it was at least past sunset.
“You in here?” Anton questioned as he took one uneasy step inside. Lia couldn’t help but smirk at his natural discomfort with the very idea of this room. Death was something that he was unprepared for as a monk dedicated to the Goddess of life. As he looked around, she imagined his eyes struggling with the darkness. Eventually he noticed that the linen sheets had been pulled back from the faces of the bodies in front of him. “I know you’re here. I can see you’ve removed the burial shrouds!” After a moment of no response, he sighed and took a step forward, towards the bodies. Without looking directly at them he slowly, and carefully, pulled the linen sheets back over the faces of the corpses. He eventually reached the body of the young boy and began to pull the sheet over the boy’s face.
“Stop!” Lia’s loud command broke the silence like a hammer through a window. Anton physically jumped at the sound. Although he turned to face her direction it was obvious that he still couldn’t see her in the darkness.
“I’m not doing this again, Lia. Especially not here!” Anton called into the shadows.
“Why not? Look at him.” Anton turned to face the body of the child in front of him, laying there, dead on the table. He quickly turned away, uncomfortable at what he saw. “Was he undeserving of your lady’s gift?”
“We’ve been over this Lia! Vita doesn’t control death, she only puts life into the world, once the lives are there, her power over them ends.”
“What about mum?”
“The same went for her too.”
“Does Vita let you talk to her?”
“You know the answer to this. Vita says that the living and the dead must remain separated.”
“How convenient.” Lia snapped at her brother, venom dripping from her words.
“What are you saying Lia?” Anton’s words held a threat of their own.
“I don’t think I can believe in something without evidence.”
“Are Vita’s words not enough evidence for you‽” Anton’s tone had softened; it sounded almost like he was pleading for her to stop this line of thinking. She dropped from the shadowed shelf onto the stone workbench below her. As she landed on the hard stone she scooped up a knife used during autopsies.
“I need proof, real proof.” She drew closer to her brother, who in turn took a step away from her. A fear response. “Look at this poor boy. He’s gone, Anton, just gone. All we know for sure is that he's not here anymore. I need more evidence than the vague words of a Goddess that refuses to show herself to me just because I question her teachings.”
“Don’t go down this path Lia.” Anton’s voice had lost all its edge now; he was outwardly pleading with her.
“How much do you truly believe that souls go to their God?” Lia’s voice was sharp, a razor ready to cut.
“With my whole heart.” With this Lia lunged forward, pushing Anton up against the wooden door, as she plunged the knife towards his throat. It was only due to her precision with the weapon that it didn’t end up pinning him to the door. As it was the knife was dug about a centimetre into the wood, with the blade held against Anton’s throat.
“So you wouldn’t mind if I sent you to her?” Lia could feel her brothers throat strain against the blade as he swallowed down his fear. He was obviously trying to figure out the perfect thing to say.
“It is my duty to protect the gift given to me by my Goddess!” A bead of sweat dripped down his forehead.
“Coward!” Lia pushed the knife deeper into the wood of the door, the blade pressed hard enough against her brother’s throat to draw out a trickle of blood. As she was considering what to do next, all the air from her lungs was forced out as Anton’s knee collided with her ribs. Lia fell backwards, knocking one of the tables containing a body over as she did. She hit the floor along with the body of an old woman. Lia’s knife clattered to the floor next to her. She quickly snatched it up and began to lunge at her brother, but he was gone. The door to the morgue was slowly closing under its own weight. Through the shrinking opening of the doorway, she saw her brother sprinting away down the hallway.
She couldn’t stay at the temple anymore. After what she had done, what she had said, she would no longer be welcome within Vita’s home.
She had taken her first real steps away from her old life…