DELPHiA
Deep within Ludo’s woods, during the darkest of hours, the daughter of Death was busy preparing. The Fae were not the only ones with rituals and traditions to call upon spirits, and though her powers granted her great strength within the realm of the dead, even she relied upon the arcane every now and then. Not the same sort that the Abandoned used – oh no, Delphia did not rely on those sorts of tricks. Rae had blessed the world with all she needed for her task. In a circle she placed the lanterns, each burning brightly with special plants chosen for their spiritual properties. White Sage to cleanse and keep spirits of ill intent at bay. Cypress bark to aid the passage between the realm of the living and the dead. Wormwood, it enhance her own spiritual powers and aid in her sight. Bay laurel to strengthen the opened passage between the realms. And finally Frankincense to aid the spirits back to Mort or whence they came upon departing.
Before she entered the circle, the Seer cleansed herself, allowing the smoke of a bundle of white sage to wash over her before rubbing cedar oil into her skin so that none of the dead would attach to her or otherwise attempt to join her soul within her body. In silence she entered the circle, the scents of the ritual plants and cedar mixing and burning her nose. She knelt in the very center, silent for a moment longer as she focused on nothingness, allowing her mind to open for those only she could hear. Then she began to hum, low and quiet, slowly building to a chant she had memorized for as long as she could remember, the language she spoke not of the Fae, nor common tongue, but the ancestral language of her human mother’s people. Before long she could feel the realm of the dead begin to ebb and open, colliding with the world of the living, the natural spirits rising and writhing to the call. ”Kaló ta pnévmata ton progónon mou gia kathodígisi, gia na vroun kai na paradósoun tis chaménes psychés ton Anastasménon ston patéra mou, ton theó tou thanátou, ton aiónio Mort!”
Translation: ”I call upon the spirits of my ancestors for guidance, to find and deliver the lost souls of the Ascended to my father, the god of death, the eternal Mort!"
Before she entered the circle, the Seer cleansed herself, allowing the smoke of a bundle of white sage to wash over her before rubbing cedar oil into her skin so that none of the dead would attach to her or otherwise attempt to join her soul within her body. In silence she entered the circle, the scents of the ritual plants and cedar mixing and burning her nose. She knelt in the very center, silent for a moment longer as she focused on nothingness, allowing her mind to open for those only she could hear. Then she began to hum, low and quiet, slowly building to a chant she had memorized for as long as she could remember, the language she spoke not of the Fae, nor common tongue, but the ancestral language of her human mother’s people. Before long she could feel the realm of the dead begin to ebb and open, colliding with the world of the living, the natural spirits rising and writhing to the call. ”Kaló ta pnévmata ton progónon mou gia kathodígisi, gia na vroun kai na paradósoun tis chaménes psychés ton Anastasménon ston patéra mou, ton theó tou thanátou, ton aiónio Mort!”
Translation: ”I call upon the spirits of my ancestors for guidance, to find and deliver the lost souls of the Ascended to my father, the god of death, the eternal Mort!"
Spoiler Alert: Everybody Dies
