keongmi
The firelight flickered across the ceremonial hall, casting long shadows on the woven mats and stone-carved faces of forgotten gods. Incense choked the air. The smell was not of peace or prayer-it was of something trying too hard to mask rot.
Seah knelt beside the body, her breath shallow. The body was cold. Too cold. Her hands trembled as she brought the comb through strands of dark hair-matted, twisted, thick with dried blood and forest soil.
Whisper the release, do not look into their eyes. Do not speak to them. Never, ever hurt them. Especially if they smile.
She could still hear Mother Ayrah's words echoing inside her skull.
The corpse beneath her was still. But not peaceful.
Seah paused. Her heart slowed.
Mariko's eyes were open.
Her lips were smiling.
The smile grew.
And in that instant, Seah knew:
> This soul was not sleeping.
It was waiting.