“Imagine this: 60-odd men and women, dressed in white, walk down a dirt path. Pine trees surround us on either side. A woman in a red dress leads the way, singing a ghostly song and holding aloft a lantern. The forest is otherwise pitch black. Stars peek at us from between breaks in the canopy. Finally, we arrive at the Cauldron, a natural spring fed from underground. Frogs and insects chirp in chorus all around us. A man in black stands beside a blazing fire, waiting for us. Two lit, standing torches form a threshold on the bank of the spring, while rose petals lie scattered between them, forming a path into the water. Beyond the torchlight is nothing but blackness.”
From the Death’s Handmaiden blog, read more.