Under the penumbra left by the Moon the priests got to work. The ceremony was far from categorical but each soul willingly submitted to being ripped from its body.
“For the gods!”
If only they knew.
The only thing waiting for them now was a group of bored reapers, a processing team, to shuffle them away. Then lines, lines eternal, as they stood waiting for paperwork to be completed.
One of the souls wandered towards them, bewildered by its new state.
“There should be gold, all of the gods glory …”
Kevin, the senior-most reaper and stick in the mud of the team, stepped forward with his clipboard and a smirk.
“Name? I’ll need you to follow me. We’ll start your processing. The current wait is about 2 millenia but it won’t be bad. We’ll play some music.”