The storm brewed violently; the wind, thunder and lightning acting as winds, percussion and pageantry for a nightmarish opera. And in the distance, evidence Socrates was correct; somber chapel bells were ringing.
The fog swirled through the ruins of Castle Freedom, over its grounds, and into the Templar graveyard. It enveloped the sarcophagi, settled over the flat tombs, and turned dirt, moss and decay to a clammy slime on the cut stone.
There arose a grating sound. The stone lid of the blood-stained sarcophagus began slowly to slide open. Though it took some time, a gap of several inches opened. A skeletal hand, gray and decayed, slid through the breach from within. It flexed and took hold of the covering. It pushed slowly gaining space. A second hand appeared. They tugged and, as light
