As the moon peeked out from behind the clouds, it illuminated a mist which was gathering. An indistinguishable noise carried across the air, the undisturbed crypts vibrated with strange, repeating words.

At the epicentre of the necropolis, sat on the oldest crypt was the barely animated remains of a woman. As the chant repeated, the air became static and mist began to swirl around the remains, forming a white dress over her body.

The woman began to move, first looking down at her decayed hands in sadness.

Upon hearing the chant, she covered her ears, a pained moan fell from her mouth.

She noticed fresh roses blooming next to her, and with great effort from her rotted hands, she tore a few roses from the stone.

As the did, the chant faltered, and she began desperately ripping them from the stone, until the words were barley audible.

With her last ounce of strength, she pulled the last rose from the stone, and fell limp, back to her eternal rest.