Filling an Empty Breath

A body waits nearby, in repose. It is still now, restrained through your efforts, but you know the truth: this is a revenant. Zombie. Wight. Draugr. Haugbui. Jiangshi. They are known by many names, these restless things that rise from their graves. But the only name you use for this revenant, this person, is the name they used in life. 

They are still now, tranquil. They would look almost normal, if only their skin was not afflicted with that unnatural bluish hue, those black marks rising on their skin. An uneasiness settles over you. You fear those eyes will snap open, that mouth will snarl, those hands burst forward. 

You were there during their funeral rites. Something went wrong and this soul was not properly put to rest. The right words weren’t spoken. The correct offerings were not made. As a result, they lived on after death as a hideous, twisted creature in desperate need of proper rites. They roamed, sowing disturbance, until others began to notice… 

Now it is your job to put right what went wrong, to release them from this ugly state, stuck between worlds. You will say the right words, make the offerings, conduct the rites as they should have been. 

If you do not, it could mean the end for all of you.