=\/= ch’Havran =\/=

[Latasalaem]

As dusk settled the procession of mourners appeared climbed through the great road that lead from the ancient sections of Latasalaem to the more modernized city center.  In front of the procession Argelian walked with his youngest child in arm.  Next to him his eldest son walked on his own, head lowered, small tears dripping onto the roadway.  No one spoke, only the sounds of coughs and rustling foot steps echoed through the darkening landscape.

Ahead of them was an old temple built to honor the element of fire.  Its large columns circled around a square stand.  Torches burned all around the stone structure causing the worn marble to glow a hue of orange.  The mourners parted and encircled the temple.  Four Galae officers wearing their dress uniforms laid the cloth covered body across the center platform.  Bowing to her, the four men stepped back and kneeled briefly before joining the rest of the mourners.

A man wearing a decorated robe stepped forward from the crowd, a book resting in his hands.  “From the elements is life.  We are grounded in earth, we are wise through water, we are strong through wind, and we are passionate through fire.  When the flame of being is extinguished may we join our brethren in the gardens of Vorta Vor.”

The priest stepped back as another Romulan stepped forward.  Wearing the dress uniform of the highest Galae admiralty, Galae’Enriov Ameh’ah t’Neyl, unsheathed the honor blade.  Raising the blade into the air she stared at the mourners “Vorta Vor for the honored!” grabbing a hand full of her hair she sliced it off and dropped the severed strands onto the velvet covering S’anra’s body.

Handing the young child to his mother, Argelian stepped forward, and accepted the blade from Ameh’ah’s hands.  Looking at the crowd he inhaled deeply “Allow the flames of Okhala to carry you to Vorta Vor.  Fear not, your travel will not be a lonely one.”  Argelian grabbed a large section of his hair and sliced it off, dropping the fist full of hair onto the velvet covering his wife.  “Be free of pain.”

Stepping back Argelian watched as the rest of the mourners emulated them, offering the departed a piece of themselves to bring with them to Vorta Vor so that the dead would not travel alone.

When everyone finished, Ameh’ah raised the honor blade once again.  The eldest son stepped forward and lowered his head.  Looking at the boy she smiled softly “Honor, Duty, Passion, the drive of every Rihannsu.  Take this sword young one, and remember the blood of those before you, remember the honor of your mother.”

The boy accepted the blade as tears streamed down his cheeks.  When he returned to his father’s side Argelian put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

The priest stepped forward and bowed to the departed.  All the mourners did the same and then kneeled.  Several people hummed an old Rihannsu hymn as a send off.  The priest then kneeled and spoke the final words “Rehil-a i rehil-a, ohreth-a i ohreth-a.” [Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust]

A bright white flame wrapped around the body reducing it to thousands of glowing embers which billowed into the night sky to join the stars which watched over them.

Argelian’s eyes flickered as his wife departed, he knew one day he would join her in Vorta Vor, but even that knowledge brought him little comfort in this moment.

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Argelian tr’Verelan

Leih, Rhi’Galae