(Speaking with the dead.)
Yanis was preparing the the binding diagram out in the rubble of the old city, in the shadow of the fallen Machinist Colossus. Above loomed the foot of the great machine, casting an eerie shadow through the hazy murk. Arryn helped her, passing the components needed for the binding circle. She thought this was one of the more morbid duties she carried out, between the unreal nature of actually summoning ghosts and the components that made up the binding circle. Human ashes, knuckle bones, grave dirt...
Arryn said nothing while they built it, but she knew from the anxious look on his face that the apprentice was wondering if the summoning and binding of ghosts was a part of the heretical Necromonger doctrines. Yanis knew from her own studies that humanity had developed ritual magics to commune with the dead long before there was an Order of the Mortuary Arts. It was a fundamental aspect of dealing with ghosts, but the rituals were not taught to apprentices. Arryn's presence was an anomaly, so clearly Father Oren felt Arryn was ready to graduate to a novice mortician.
Finally Arryn said something. "Isn't this... heresy?"
"No. We train all morticians how to summon and bind the dead." Preempting the obligatory follow-up question, Yanis continued. "If a ghost is particularly hard to communicate with or is very uncooperative, we need to have the tools to bind them. Because then we can figure out the best way to sever their ties to the material realm." She was setting the small onyx gems inside the binding circle in the shape of a human's spiritual gates, what some philosophies called chakra points. She then pulled a small candle no more than three inches long and made of a greasy black wax and set it in where the ribcage of the figurative human would be.
"Stand back." she cautioned Arryn as she struck the flint and steel to light the corpse candle. The wick fizzled as it caught the sparks, adding a sickening rotten smell to the air and a cold gray-green light cast across the broken courtyard they found themselves in. Arryn's eyes widened as he realized that he could see vague misty human-like shapes by the candle-light, the ruins filled with them.
One of those shapes passed through a half wall and stepped into the binding circle, seemingly attracted by the light and smoke. The glimpse into the realm of the dead stopped as the sickening candle smoke coalesced into the shape of a person, with blurred features as wisps of smoke escaped.
There was a voice, distracted and barely there, laboring to form words as the mouth of the apparition mimicked the motions of a living person. "Did the colossus fall?" Of course the ghosts would be most concerned about the anchors that kept it tied to the material.
Yanis answered. "It did fall, ancestor. We're in in the shadow of its corpse." She gestured upwards towards the fog-shrouded foot of the thing. "With whom do I have the honor of speaking with, ancestor?"
The ghost replied distractedly, smoky form trying to reach beyond the circle towards Arryn. "This one reminds me my grandson. What is your name?" The unquiet dead were not known for staying focused.
Arryn was sheet white and terrified. It was clearly the boy's first time dealing with a restless soul. Yanis nudged him. The candle would only last so long and they needed answers. Arryn stuttered out his answer. "I'm Arryn Deltana, ancestor. Who might you be?" Well, at least he had enough wit about him to ask that.
It might be smiling, Yanis could never tell given how insubstantial the smoke forms always were. "I was Sofia Langellon of Omphalos, Captain of 9th Lancer Platoon of the 4077th Titan Legion. I remember we were ordered to hold down the Colossus. There was a light and then... wandering, endless wandering. And wondering..." The ghost of Captain Langellon trailed off distractedly.
Yanis tried to take control of the conversation again. "Captain Langellon, we need to know if you have seen the ghosts around here... change."
"Oh..." the ghost said languidly. "There were a few... they turned black as the outer void and shrieked curses. Purple malevolence and vorpal talons. There were awful faces and wicked men. Shades from the void came for them. Some refused to go along and howled as they ate the living." The ghost became distracted again as it glanced up. "Is that the colossus? How did it come to be as such?"
Yanis took a deep breath, trying to hide her growing anger. Dealing with the dead in this way was frustrating and tiresome, but it was necessary at times. "The histories say it was laid low by an orbital strike from the Sol Aet's etheric batteries. The strike also cost the lives of many of the 3rd Scarlet Dragon battalion, including yours." She had read the history of the battles here this morning in preparation for such questions.
"And... did the Machinists...?" The captain's ghost trailed off mid-question.
Yanis stated "The star remains shining and free, Captain."
"... I think I can rest easy then... Maybe one more question?" There was a hint of joy in the soft languid voice of the ghost.
Yanis frowned under her helmet's mask. "Certainly, but I have one last question to ask of you, ancestor."
The ghostly form in the smoke shrugged, or seemed to. "That is fair. Ask your question, morticians."
Yanis breathed a sigh of relief. "Captain Langellon, can you tell me where the darkened ghosts went when they were taken?"
"There was a path; a road so dark. Into the distant void it went along a dragon's tail. The shades were not men, not outsiders, not ghosts. I may have imagined them as stars of blackest night. They were cold and terrible to see. They stilled the world about them. I think they may never have been men." The ghost was infuriatingly vague.
Yanis thought a moment. "What is your last question, ancestor?"
"How long has it been since the battle?"
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