“Banikanspeak, the language of the Banikans, was created by the God of Death and gifted to the fireborn tribes when the Goddesses of Life and Space deemed the Banikans unworthy of speech. It is created from the Theoglossa, the language of the Gods, but written and spoken in reverse, a mockery of the Hellenic language.” – Efay Anglosson, A-Class Skyavok Archivist
Ten thousand Banikans had gathered to the Soan Not Norken, the Temple of the Dead, to say farewell to Mur’Umvul, the former Spirit of the Banikans, their holy leader. The Temple of the Dead was located in the centre of an extinct volcano, but a small, tender and eternal flame still flickered within it. Here, the bodies of the most highly respected Banikans would be put through a holy ritual, their flesh and organs stripped away and their bones added to the vast Notso Not Soxiot, a wall of bones dedicated to the best that Banikankind had to offer, and a sign of respect to Sotanaht, Death Himself.
The majority of the Banikans present though weren’t allowed inside the temple. They were watching from the edge of the volcano’s crater. Only the Banikans’ leaders and the temple’s keepers were allowed to actually set foot inside the temple itself.
However, as So’Matis, the freshly chosen new Spirit of the Banikans, led his fellow leaders, Le’Tym, the Mind of the Banikans and Kt’Tak, the Voice of the Banikans, up the battered, stone path towards the temple’s centre, dragging the Amra Onirtep, the Stone Chariot used to carry the deceased, behind him, something appeared at the temple’s entrance. Something stopping So’Matis from going any further.
“So’Matis, aigruotelet nit onak an sienifa em aht?” Sotanaht, Death Himself, had made himself apparent, appearing before the Banikan leaders. However, Sotanaht, better known among other species as Arkay, the Thantophor and God of Decay, wasn’t a Banikan. He took the form of a yellow-plated Skyavok, but today he also had Banikan features – two horns sticking out from behind his head plate, and four spikes sticking out of his tail.
“Sotanaht, ode iasie itaig?” So’Matis asked back. Le’Tym and Kt’Tak both bowed in awe, but So’Matis remained standing.
“Atnok oip iamie an, ohtiov an oleht…” Arkay bowed too, then offered his hand, taking the chariot from So’Matis. “Sas izam nuomi iak sas asuohtiov nohtlerap ots. Anask sas izam iamie an oleht. Ilap sas izam iamie an oropm uop arot.”
So’Matis hesitated, not sure what to say. Their Sotanaht was offering to do the death ceremony for So’Matis. A great, great honour. Almost too much of an honour. But Mur’Umvul deserved it. He had united the Banikans, made them more open to other species, after centuries of the Banikans being isolationists, after their beloved god had disappeared and been unable to protect them.
“Ixatne, sienak nit an onifa es aht…” So’Matis relented. Arkay smiled, then pulled the Stone Chariot into the centre of the temple. The three Banikan leaders all followed, watching their deity with uncertainty.
With a wave of his hand, Arkay lifted Mur’Umvul’s body out of the Stone Chariot, and carried the body to a large, circular disc in the middle of the temple, directly above the simmering embers of the volcano. So’Matis reached into his satchel for his ritual book, to hand to Arkay, before realizing that the God of Death probably didn’t need it. Smiling slightly, Arkay stood So’Matis Le’Tym and Kt’Tak on three black obsidian discs, before returning to Mur’Umvul’s body, circling around it. He began to speak, louder than anticipated, so that the Banikans outside could hear him. The ritual was being broadcasted live on various televisual channels, but hearing Sotanaht’s voice, unfiltered, was considered a blessing on its own. This was something else entirely.
“Sam norken not sorp seisitsiraxve emuop aremis. Mur’Umvul o nath soiop eteresk iolo. Uot nohtlerap ot aig emuolimanask an iatezaierx ned. Aremis iohisi emuoniem.”
The Thantophor clapped his hands together. The chittering crowds fell silent, and Sotanaht began his incantations.
“Idatoks ots amsarep uop, uot ioz nit esifa uop, Mur’Umvul uot apielopi at em ode etsamoket. Soiga uos sotanaht o, aiaro nati uos ioz i. Soiruoniak etenig an, iateineganask an aig, Mur’Umvul uot airaniemopa at emuonid, nokinab not amono ots, uotanaht uot iak sioz sit amono ots, norassed not amono ots. Erkim, anask esiz. Nema. Alo opa otak sotanaht.”
“Alo opa otak sotanaht…” the three Banikans all repeated.
Arkay placed a hand on Mur’Umvul’s lifeless head, then closed his eyes.
“Otsirahve, Mur’Umvul. Suoretylak suot opa sane nuosi. Alak iasamiok, oum elif.”
With a sigh, Arkay removed his hand, then made his way over to a set of chains, tugging them loose, untangling a tattered pulley system. He then slowly lowered the platform Mur’Umvul’s body was resting on, down into the lava below. The ancient Banikan’s body began to burn up. After four seconds, Arkay brought the body, what remained of it, back up. All that stood on the platform now was a collection of black, burnt bones.
One at a time, the Banikan leaders stepped closer, placing a hand on Mur’Umvul’s charred skull, before leaning forward and nuzzling the remains and returning to their original positions. Arkay then gently kissed the top of the skull, before raising both his hands. As he did so, Mur’Umvul’s skeleton drifted up into the air, following Arkay as he made his way over to the Wall of Bones.
The Wall of Bones glowed softly at first, before turning red hot, the metal lines on it slowly melting. Arkay inspected the wall, looking for a somewhat empty space, then gently embedded Mur’Umvul’s bones into the molten metal. With a snap of his fingers, the wall instantly cooled down, and the skeleton remained in place, displayed proudly alongside the skeletons of other Banikan heroes.
The God of Death then turned to the gathered Banikans, putting his hands together and closing his eyes once more.
“Mur’Umvul o esize sopo etesiz an. Otsirahve, Anakina uom.”
So’Matis bowed, then stepped forward, speaking loudly. “Otsirahve, sam Sotanaht! Sesperyganask uop otsirahve! Emuotsirahve!”
To So’Matis’s surprise, Arkay bowed back. “Otsirahve, So’Matis uom.”
Arkay gently stroked So’Matis across his face, then did the same to Le’Tym and Kt’Tak. He then made his way out of the Soan Not Norken, the Temple of the Dead, waving to the gathered Banikan crowds.
“Otsirahve, Anakina uom. Alo opa otak sotanaht.”
With a small smile, Sotanaht, the God of Death, disappeared in a puff of black smoke, glad that the Banikans understood and respected him, thankful that he could assist his chosen races one more.