A soft mist swirled around the moon as night took over the senses and the sun’s warmth was long gone. The lunar luminance of the cold moon now took its place. A strange scent lingered in the chilled air as a raven soared across the full moon, obscuring its luminance for a brief moment. The scent was like berries, but not like berries from the world of the living. The berries smelt old and as if they had long since decayed yet the berries that grew around the walls of the graveyard, from between the tiny cracks in the concrete were healthy, it seemed.
The moon fell behind the pearly white veils of the clouds and all luminance was gone from the sky. The graveyard was in total pure darkness, uncorrupted by even the starless night. The ground was thinly ground with sickly sticklike grass which sat in tiny tufts growing from cracked dry black mud. No flora grew here. A single tree grew gnarled from the dry earth and snaked up almost horizontally into the cold night air. Something had disrupted its growth.
The graves all lay in small clumps around the land yet one grave lay far away from its fellows. A single wooden cross protruded from the earth and into the sky with decayed rot upon its body. There was a sudden sound of a bell and a sudden crack from beneath the earth. The enchantment had worked. My army was beginning to form.