1015 AS
The city was so massive that it had slowly crumbled away to ruin after the Machinists had decimated the planet's population. Centuries later the world of Ashan still bore marks of their peculiar magic; a permanent fog of bruise-colored ash filled the air, through which filtered the blue-white rays of Harridan, the system's star. That the Machinists had struck this far into the Lonely Galaxy was a testament to the awesome stellar energies the extra-galactic invaders had harnessed. Here was one of planets that had almost been scoured clean by unrestrained beams of celestial energy. Many had died suddenly, souls full of unresolved emotions and desires.
It was no wonder then, Yanis reflected, that the ruins of Olander were full of ghosts. So much work for her fellows in the Mortuary Sciences to do, to assist these restless souls into the river of reincarnation. She knew that there was a regular rotation of master-apprentices sent to Ashan for training, and only a handful of permanently stationed morticians. But for a mortician with her particular knowledge and skill set to be called meant that there were more dangerous predators at work than needy and grieving ghosts.
She watched the hazy vistas march past as the auto-horse and its driver guided the carriage down the crudely restored cobblestone road. She was amazed at how overgrown with the native life the remains of Olander had become. Some buildings were only the fuzzy suggestions of man-made spires now, broken down further by time and life into the slumped remains that greeted her today.
One of the things that grabbed her attention was the slumped wreckage of a Machinist Colossus, those peculiar versions of Titans the invaders had used, each of which were larger than many of the voidships she had been on and as large as many of the behemoths she had read about. The histories said the Colossi strode across planetary surfaces and laid waste to entire cities, and that they were manned by the fearsome Immortals who comprised the Machinist ruling class. The relic of the galactic war lay sprawled across the ruined towers and buildings of this city district, head and chest sundered with holes from capital-class voidship weaponry. The war machine was disturbingly human in form, lacking the massive armor plates and magical symbols of the more familiar Titans used by the Concordat Navy.
"Nearly there, ma'am." The driver said to her, breaking her away from her thoughts.
---
Yanis picked at the sleeves of her robes, the black cuffs and hem contrasting against the bright white of the main body. She didn't wear the robes of the Purifier Sect very often; demons were exceedingly rare and poorly understood. More often than not, she wore the trappings of the Sin-Eater Sect of morticians, assisting the restless dead by metaphorically taking on their sins and burdens so they could pass into the next life. She was waiting for the local patriarch to be briefed on the situation.
This was a humble mortuary college, built primarily with wood and roughly cut stone, lit by flickering candles ensconced in tiny alcoves everywhere. Yanis reflected on the layout and what it might mean for the local funeral customs. She thought cremation was likely, given the number of small shrines to local death spirits with urns along the hall here. The end of a human life was seen as an offering to the death spirits, likely ritually burnt with prized possessions to appease these spirits to bless any newborn with a long and fruitful life. Whether it worked or not, Yanis thought, was unknown because of how mercurial some of the more powerful spirits could be. Especially death spirits. The battle on Ashan must have really upset the people and the spirits if these were the local customs.
The man entered, wearing the black and yellow robes of the Eulogist Sect and wearing the simple necklace with stone beads that served as the trappings of office for morticians. She herself had a simple hemp necklace with five quartz beads. The man was old, perhaps five hundred years compared to Yanis' more youthful two hundred fifty, with stark white hair combed carefully.
Yanis and the man shook hands and bowed to each other.
"Father Oren, thank you for receiving me." Yanis said as she bowed.
"Sister Yanis, so glad you could come. I understand Mother Naia's health prevented her from coming. Please, give her my heartfelt best wishes when you return." The older man said with a thin smile. "You should take it as a compliment that she sent you in her stead. I've known Mother Naia since we were apprentice morticians and she rarely trusts others to do as good a job as her."
Yanis felt herself blush, not that anyone would notice under her deep brown skin, something she was always grateful for. "Thank you sir. Mother Naia did oversee my training as a Purifier, so I know most of what she knows."
Oren nodded. "Not that demons are as well understood as ghosts, but you know that." He then ushered her into the small living area the college offered. "Come come, you should eat before we discuss graver matters."
---
After a meal of stewed meat and vegetables with a side of bread, Yanis and Oren had gone to Oren's office, which as as austere as the rest of the campus. A small pot-belly heater took the edge off the cold and a light sphere lit it with warm golden light, the only examples of advanced technology Yanis had seen on the campus so far. The patriarch lit his pipe, gave it a few puffs, and passed a sheaf of carefully written parchments to Yanis.
Yanis glanced over them, picking up the big details first. "Some of these statements seem unrelated. Are you certain it's a demon?" She began, a hint of confusion mixed with doubt edging into her voice.
"No." Father Oren stated flatly. "That's why I sent for a Purifier. I'm not versed well in such matters. I oversee funeral rites and remember the dead to the living, and have done so since the Invasion ended. A demon is well beyond my abilities to handle, Sister."
Silence passed between them as Yanis reviewed the statements made by witnesses. Finally she shook her head and blew air between her lips, and took a breath before speaking. "You're very thorough with these, Father Oren, and I appreciate that. It will make things a bit easier to sort out."
Father Oren puffed on his pipe thoughtfully. "What do you think it is, Yanis?" his tone was more informal, with an undercurrent of trepidation.
Yanis frowned. "The most consistent thread among the witnesses and the evidence is incredible violence. The ghost probably felt its death was unfair and became consumed by anger at the living. Now it's a demon of wrath."
Oren sighed and leaned back in his chair. "So it was probably a ghost from the war."
Yanis glanced out the window behind Father Oren, where the immense foot of the ruined Colossus could be seen in the moonlight. "Probably."
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