In this short story, the coffin is empty - but the ritual is not.
In a ruined cemetery shrouded in mist, a procession of veiled mourners carries a coffin carved from obsidian, its lid etched with glowing runes and its interior hollow. The bells toll, even though no church remains. The candles burn cold. And the funeral begins.
This is no ordinary burial; the coffin waits not for a body, but for an idea. It waits for death itself.
Drawn to the ritual by forces he cannot name, a lone figure finds himself at the center of the ceremony. The mourners whisper his name. The coffin calls to him in his own voice. As the final bell tolls, he must choose: resist the pull of the void, or step inside and bury the very concept of endings.
Haunting, lyrical and steeped in cosmic dread, The Last Funeral is a metaphysical tale of mortality, ritual and the terrifying cost of immortality. It's a story for those who wonder what happens when death itself is laid to rest...
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