55th of Winter, 518AV
It felt like an unusual morning in the Warrens as Lani skimmed the side of the large passage ways. She wanted to stay out of the Inarta’s way for the most part. She was a Chiet, a commoner, and yet with the recent tensions that seemed to have sprung up with the season, she didn’t trust the caste system to outweigh her foreign eyes and hair. Something inside her stirred with the memory of a djed that she knew that she could call forth and dissuade their fears by letting the white seep into her eyes, let color fade through her black hair, things that would set the Inarta at ease.
She had witnessed the fight the day prior, and now her curiosity dragged her towards the Tomb of the Fallen. She had not heard of a death in the city yet. Although she was sure they happened, she was not close with enough Inarta to mourn any of their losses. Her three (possibly now four) friends were alive and well and she cared not for anyone else. The Foreigner did not typically work jobs where any of her fellow Chiet would find accident or illness and pass, so she was blissfully unaware of the burial practices of these bird-worshiping people. Except now she had watched someone die. She had watched the life drain from his eyes in her very arms, and she wanted to see how he would be mourned, if he would be mourned.
Lani had gone to work as usual, done her work as usual, and yet still had the odd empty feeling of unfinished business. She had not witnessed violence and callous manslaughter so easily brushed off before, and so she did not let the shock of the event interrupt her life, but she could still feel the adrenaline of the day prior and knew that it had affected her more than she wanted it to. The foreigner had the rough directions from Kavisan, who thought her request to be odd but had obliged to tell her. She had just finished her work day and while she should be going to get food before the times were over for her to do so, she wanted to see the burial, and she doubted it would wait for her, if for some reason it had not happened yet. And so she found herself wandering to the far recesses of corridors that the foreigner rarely had reason to go through or down, and as she watched the lamps flicker next to the warm volcanic stone, a sense of fear settled in her. She wasn’t welcome in these parts. There was not much of this city she was welcome in, but the long corridors ahead sung haunting rhythms to her heart as it picked up its palpitations in anticipation for the certain danger that she would meet if she continued further down. Luckily she had reached her destination, and so she ducked into the entryway of the Tomb of the Fallen, escaping the eye of the Inner Warrens.
What she was met with underwhelmed her. There was an immediate embrace of heat, stronger than any other part of the volcano which the half-Eypharian could immediately suspect meant there was a open shaft to the magma that lay below. Her flowing pants and cropped top suddenly felt too constricting in the heat, but it was still bearable. She walked further into the dark cavern. There seemed to be no lamps in here, but rather a large gaping hole in the center of the room that produced more than enough light for her to see that beyond the smooth walls, nothing was there. This was surely the location she was given, Kavisan had described the large magma hole that rested in the room, but there was nothing else. No bodies, no caretakers of the dead, not even a stone or note to mark their falling. The foreigner paused inside the room, realizing how utterly alone she was and how not even the dead were there to comfort her in the place that they were supposed to be.
It was then that the realization settled in on Lani’s chest. Her throat constricted, perhaps with the heat, perhaps with the reality of the situation. The Inarta did not bury their dead. They did not give them ceremony, or if they did, they would not for a Dek. He had been mercilessly disposed off, burned up in the fiery grasp of the mountain, disappearing from the world forever, ready to be sent into the reincarnation cycle to his next life. But there remained no trace of the unnamed Deks’ existence in the physical realm, not any more.
She had witnessed the fight the day prior, and now her curiosity dragged her towards the Tomb of the Fallen. She had not heard of a death in the city yet. Although she was sure they happened, she was not close with enough Inarta to mourn any of their losses. Her three (possibly now four) friends were alive and well and she cared not for anyone else. The Foreigner did not typically work jobs where any of her fellow Chiet would find accident or illness and pass, so she was blissfully unaware of the burial practices of these bird-worshiping people. Except now she had watched someone die. She had watched the life drain from his eyes in her very arms, and she wanted to see how he would be mourned, if he would be mourned.
Lani had gone to work as usual, done her work as usual, and yet still had the odd empty feeling of unfinished business. She had not witnessed violence and callous manslaughter so easily brushed off before, and so she did not let the shock of the event interrupt her life, but she could still feel the adrenaline of the day prior and knew that it had affected her more than she wanted it to. The foreigner had the rough directions from Kavisan, who thought her request to be odd but had obliged to tell her. She had just finished her work day and while she should be going to get food before the times were over for her to do so, she wanted to see the burial, and she doubted it would wait for her, if for some reason it had not happened yet. And so she found herself wandering to the far recesses of corridors that the foreigner rarely had reason to go through or down, and as she watched the lamps flicker next to the warm volcanic stone, a sense of fear settled in her. She wasn’t welcome in these parts. There was not much of this city she was welcome in, but the long corridors ahead sung haunting rhythms to her heart as it picked up its palpitations in anticipation for the certain danger that she would meet if she continued further down. Luckily she had reached her destination, and so she ducked into the entryway of the Tomb of the Fallen, escaping the eye of the Inner Warrens.
What she was met with underwhelmed her. There was an immediate embrace of heat, stronger than any other part of the volcano which the half-Eypharian could immediately suspect meant there was a open shaft to the magma that lay below. Her flowing pants and cropped top suddenly felt too constricting in the heat, but it was still bearable. She walked further into the dark cavern. There seemed to be no lamps in here, but rather a large gaping hole in the center of the room that produced more than enough light for her to see that beyond the smooth walls, nothing was there. This was surely the location she was given, Kavisan had described the large magma hole that rested in the room, but there was nothing else. No bodies, no caretakers of the dead, not even a stone or note to mark their falling. The foreigner paused inside the room, realizing how utterly alone she was and how not even the dead were there to comfort her in the place that they were supposed to be.
It was then that the realization settled in on Lani’s chest. Her throat constricted, perhaps with the heat, perhaps with the reality of the situation. The Inarta did not bury their dead. They did not give them ceremony, or if they did, they would not for a Dek. He had been mercilessly disposed off, burned up in the fiery grasp of the mountain, disappearing from the world forever, ready to be sent into the reincarnation cycle to his next life. But there remained no trace of the unnamed Deks’ existence in the physical realm, not any more.