There was always a crown on the alter. It was a deep, glossy raven-black embedded with three bloody rubies. Against the perfect metal, the gems appeared to be nothing short of alive, pulsing with light as any heart would. So the Mikami Church revered them.
The Hierophant himself had been there when their predecessors had returned from the depths of the Dungeons, each covered in nothing but gore and looking akin to the gaunt skeletons they'd slain in mass, clutching their triad of trophies in hand.
The Hierophant had seen how the sun made the gems shine in a way that made him believe them Capsules of the souls of the gods. He'd believed so much that day, and with such fervor, that he'd gained followers fast. He made sermons about worshipping those Soul Gems as gods, and thanking the Undead for bringing them such fortune as the possibility of eternal life.
He would do anything to become one with his gods: undying. He bought whatever gems were wrought from within the walls of the Dungeons in hopes that he'd find another Capsule. Maybe this time it would be an empty one, but no such gem came.
The Hierophant got an interesting idea then, at rock bottom. What if, instead of joining the gods, they could become the gods themselves? Was it possible to steal the very Soul Capsules within the Black Crown? He would do it.
He would do anything for eternity.