You peer at the crumbling stone. There, under the moss, you see the faint outline of a skull, with a raven perching on top. The words underneath... are not words. They are symbols that threaten to boil your eyes and bleed your ears, even in a dream.
The words are crumbled and stuffed with moss. You can just decipher '..and of his relict... taken too soon…' A bandaged woman is reading the words with you now. She turns to look at you. There are gaps in her bandages, but they reveal only blackness.
