Crowned [Sequel to Turned]

Chapter 5: Defying Death

The year is now 1916, one hundred years ago...

A man walked along. The man was old but his looks never correctly displayed his true, elderly age. He wore a cloak of black, wrapped around his shoulders to keep this secret. If anyone were to intterupt... Let's just say they would wish they hadn't. In one hand he held a lantern, which splashed a flickering yellow light onto the ground around the man, and in his other hand he held a shovel, hidden within the folds of his cloak.

The night was silent, as if it knew of the unholy ritual about to take place, warping nature and the natural way of life and death itself. The path made little noise under the man's boots, leading him through the forest to a small grave yard. Each tomb stone had a name, most with the last name Nightwing, it was a name the man knew well, since it was his own last name. His dead kin were silent, almost watching from their graves, where they lay dead, their bodies confined within their coffins under the earth. Luckily, one would not remain so.

The man looked around the grave yard, swinging his lantern from side to side to bathe each tomb stone in the yellow light. The light revealed different names, but not the one he was searching for. Edward Nightwing... Luette Nightwing... Michael Nightwing... Elizabeth Nightwing... And finally he stopped in front of a cross shaped tomb stone as he found the correct name. In large, curving letters, the name was revealed in the lantern's yellow light. Nocturne Nightwing.

The man's shovel made a thump as he struck the ground with its metal tip. The ground was moist from the previous day of rain and easily moved. Digging down was not particularly hard work, mostly time consuming and repetative. The dirt was thrown to the side and quickly piled up as the man went down. It wasn't long until the black coffin with the red symbol of royalty was revealed underneath six feet of damp earth. The man grinned and pulled himself out of the hole.

He set down a jar on top of the coffin and then methodically placed six candles around the coffin. The man snapped his fingers and black flames erupted upon the wick of each candle. The light they emitted was a pale gray. The man smiled and smothered his lantern's flame and the yellow light ceased. That was when the jar began to hum and vibrate as its contents swirled. Inside it was filled with inky blackness so thick, it was near impossible to tell what was actually inside. The shadowy substance was spinning rapidly within the jar, making it rock back and forth while humming.

The man's smile never wavered as he sat down at the edge of the hole with the coffin in front of him. He pulled out an old book and slowly shifted to the correct page. He slowly began chanting the same phrase over and over... "Surgite , o mortuorum resurrectionem iterum relinquo... Surgite , o mortuorum resurrectionem iterum relinquo... Surgite , o mortuorum resurrectionem iterum relinquo..." At the end of each phrase a thump was heard from within the coffin. The thump grew steadily louder with the end of each phrase. The humming jar increased in volume and rocked back and forth continuously more violently. The candles gray light grew brighter and each flame tilted towards the coffin. When the thump appeared to grow no louder and the hum of the jar was almost deafening the man finally shouted his final line: "Iterum fratrem meum eritis vicimus!"

A crack ran down the coffin now and the jar finally fell over. The glass jar shattered and released the shadowy contents. The inky blackness shifted in the air for a moment before slowly slipping into the crack that ran down the coffin. A shout rang out from within the coffin now. The candles suddenly all went out at once, leaving slight trails of smoke in the air. It was finished.

The man continued to grin as he descended once more into the coffin and slowly opened it to peer down into it. "Why hello, brother. Welcome to the living once more!"

Inside the coffin, Nocturne lay. His hair was as dark as the night and eyes of the same degree of blackness. His face was pale, but for more than the reason of he had been dead for years now. Nocturne slowly sat up and studied the cloaked man. It took several moments but Nocturne worked his voice and was able to utter one question, "Kingsford?..."

"That's right," The man, Kingsford, replied and grasped Nocturne's hand, "It's me, your brother!"