The Bone Temple stands as mute and horrifying as ever. I never did find what the original name for the edifice was. Or is. I don’t care. As far as I’m concerned, it’s the Unburnt Pyre. The mounted head I’m standing beside works his jaw. I hear the gentle tap from the drop of a shed tear on the dry dust. As long as he lives, his head will function. Tears will be shed, attempts at speech will happen.
“They have to be self-extinguished. No more neophytes. No more power left in the bones they stole. Then, and only then, will the Unburnt Pyre finally burn, and you shall be released. There is nothing else to do until wait for that day.” I hear another tear drop to the ground. I shouldn’t be here next to him. Not after his shunning and execution. It is the highest point immediately around the Unburnt Pyre, facing diagonally relative to the edifice’s main entrance.
I notice I have feathersword and shield. My wings are settled on my back. My featureless deathmask is over my face. The shroud feels different, but other than having the new scars on my shoulder visible, I can not say for sure how. I shouldn’t be here, but my instinct says here is where I should be.
A raven settles on my shoulder. It announces itself with a solid ‘caw’ and flies off. I leave the trophy and follow down the mound, away from the Unburnt Pyre. A collection of other Boneburners are waiting. Most of them have weapons of some sort. This is unusual.
As I approach, they gesture in greeting. I will have to get used to that gesture, I feel. The marks on my shoulders have set me apart. But I feel like a child in adult armor. I know what they expect from me, and I don’t know if I have it in me to live up to it.
But a Raven settles on my shoulder, and its weight releases a presence from within me. I feel an old knowing waken. I don’t recognize who I am becoming, but I have the comfort that comes with wearing old jeans.
“Thank you for coming on short notice, and from the call of one mostly unknown to you. As far as I am concerned, we are equals. We merely have different skill sets, and it is for these differences we are assembled.”
Is this my voice? Where did this… experience… come from? Is this my first time in the Boneyard, or have I been a Raven here before?
“Each of us are from different areas of the physical world. We know different cultures and peoples. Equally important, is that we know different pantheons. All of you are experienced. You have seen first hand how pantheon psychopomps are being shut out of the spiritual realms. Somehow a division has been put in place, that keeps the divine from reaching the recently departed.”
“But that division is not affecting us. We Boneburners have individually experienced death, but was returned to life. Our dual-citizenship allows us to not only pierce the division, but allow the pantheon psychopomps to follow our actions. We can go where they have been barred, rescue the spirits of the dead, and hand them off. But this too, you have already experienced.”
The assembled Boneburners nodded. All of them were in formal stances, with their masks pulled over their heads. Many of the masks were once marked, but the marks have almost eroded away.
“Have you then, experienced the scavengers?” A few grunted in obvious distaste. One slammed a fist into an open palm. “They grow in numbers. Those I have personally seen appear to be acting alone. But I propose the coverings that keeps the psychopomps from reaching the dead are not the work of one sorcerer, or even a small group of them.”
“Have you noticed when and where such coverings are being erected? Think to your own physical world. Your countries, and the places in your countries where great emotional upheaval is happening. Never mind the cause of such knots of chaos, just note where the chaos is. How many have recently died there? How many of those dead have you had to dig out and present to the psychopomps personally? How many of those Grey Sky places have you encountered scavengers? I say to you, this is not circumstance.”
“What can we do? We do the same as we have always done. We bring the unclaimed dead here. We assist those psychopomps that ask for our assistance. We defend the dead. It does not fall to us to break the Grey Sky. That is beyond our ken.”
“However, we have other skills at our disposal. Skills that the creators of the Grey Sky are certainly aware of. And the greatest of them is this: We are not alone.”
“We each know Chthonic deities, entities, and powers. The pantheons we individually know have those that are of the earth and of under the earth. I propose we entreat those we know, relay to them what they most likely already know, and ask for their assistance in securing the dead. It is not ours to play politics within the pantheons. Who is out of ways with who is not our concern. But the Grey Sky only affects those from above. The earth is greedy. Or we would not have to dig. Those sent under the Grey Sky also have to dig. Let their work be burdened and ours be lessened.”
The assembled Boneburners nodded and saluted me in agreement. I thought my words were done. I was wrong.
“Those behind the Grey Sky and the scavengers must know that those that seek the release of the dead will not stand aside for long. So far, our mutual encounters have been accidental and of little personal consequence. As we, and those that listen to us act, it will become obvious by our behavior that we are attempting to rescue the dead before others can claim them. I anticipate personal battles. We are Ravens. We may act alone but we are not alone. Each of us have a personal connection to the Boneyard. If you are in danger, call. Your brethren here will come. If you have assistance of Chthonic entities, call on the boons granted to you. If you know of others that work with the dead outside of the Boneyard, warn them. The Grey Sky is not a Boneburner only phenomenon. Not for the places it has been encountered, and not for the chaos it is taking advantage of.”
“I do not know who is behind the Grey Sky, or what their ultimate goal is. I do know the dead are being exploited on a level that defies even the gods. Something grand is coming, and it will be terrible when it arrives. Be prepared.”
I looked up to the Raven that sat perched on my shoulder for my entire monologue. I nodded and yielded to it. The others gestured. The Raven cawwed loudly and flew off my shoulder into the distance. Just like that, our meeting was dismissed. The other Boneburners either nodded or gestured to me and we each went our separate ways.
As I returned to my personal “forty acres”, I put the sword and shield away. I pushed the mask up over my head so that it appeared more a fashion statement than uniform attire. Tending to the pyres in my care, I realized I remembered each and every word of the monologue, including the directive to warn those outside the Boneyard.
“Great. Now I can add delusions of grandeur to my list of psychoses. Especially after yesterday’s meltdown. This is not going to look good on my resume.” Bones sorted and proper fires lit, I knew I would have to post the entire script. I have seen too many clues in other people’s words to know the Grey Sky is spreading. Someone is intentionally hijacking the dead on a level that hasn’t been seen for centuries.
I am quite sure I am not the first to sound the alarm. I am most likely the last knowing how I tend to stumble onto the last moves of a game in play. But it is my duty to sound the alarm when it is called.
I’m sounding it.