epilogue

"Amor."

• • •

THE SOUND of the leaves brushing past each other engulfed the whole place as the scenery filled the surroundings with nothing but a pitch black night sky and the dull white color of a full moon.

The night had just started, and at exactly twelve o'clock in the morning, the sound of digging could be heard from miles away.

"Theodora Althea Corazon Sibal." A baritone voice speaks in a slow, emphasized manner.

His hands were wrapped around a shovel; he was dressed in a white polo shirt and dirty black pants from the soiled, muddy ground.

His perfect forehead started to drip sweat while his muscles from the arms flexed to his legs from the constant action of digging.

A place for the undead.

The cold touch of the air kissed the dry tombstone of a person not too far away from him as he continued to dig through the land. He needed the perfect place to fit his wife, as she would rest for a long, long time.

"No te preocupes, Amor, nos volveremos a encontrar," [Don't worry, Love, we