Chapter 1

My name is Sarah Miller. I' m a Soul Weaver.

It' s a niche job, you could say.

Families hire me for unique final rituals. Personalized. Sometimes unconventional.

They seek closure, or want to fulfill unusual last wishes.

These rituals can involve symbolic companionship, a transference of "peace," or even "life essence."

I' ve been doing this for years. Death and grief are my daily bread.

It' s given me something they call a "Thanato-Charm." A subtle allure, a calming presence. Men find it captivating, unconsciously.

I' m professional. I take my duties seriously, even the strange ones.

But I' m also pragmatic. Money-driven. This job pays well.

This new client, he' d be my thirty-eighth.

The fee was substantial: $30,000.

The ritual involved a symbolic "final night" with the deceased. I' d done similar ones before.

My phone rang.

A woman' s voice, distressed. "Is this Sarah Miller, the Soul Weaver?"

"Yes, this is she."

"My son... Ethan... he just died." Her voice cracked. "We need you. Urgently."

She called herself Brenda Jenkins.

She requested an elaborate two-part ritual.

One at their remote countryside estate, in a "viewing room."

The other at a private family mausoleum.

Mausoleums are creepy, even for me.

But then she said the number: "$80,000."

The pay was too good. My reputation preceded me, she said. I agreed.

"Mrs. Jenkins," I said, my voice calm, professional. "To ensure... comfort during the ritual, for myself, you understand, it would be beneficial if Ethan' s body remains pliable. Electric blankets can help with this."

"Oh, yes, of course. Thank you," she sobbed.

I hung up. $80,000. That was a lot of comfort.