The blood moon hung over the crypt, and it was the perfect night for a ritual. A ritual that you were performing to resurrect your beloved Papa Emeritus I. As you finished drawing your summoning circle and positioned his body, you lit the candles in order.

Flipping through the pages of the old, worn grimoire, you recited the words with passion. On command, Primo’s bones cracked, the noise loud and crisp in the silent air of the night.

Oh Satan, you would be excommunicated if they found out.