The mood was grim in the ruined ketch. Koroa could smell it.
The trip out to the graveyard of wrecked ships in the old spaceport had not gone well. For all that the crew had managed to acquire the materials and components they'd been looking for, it had not been without cost. Various other Eliksni had been there-- wearing the purple banner, but as Houseless as themselves-- and had not wanted to share in the scavenging spoils. This, alongside the Lights running around, and a resurgent Hive brood. Koroa hadn't been overly concerned. They'd avoided trouble so far.
But as they'd been extracting computer components from the disused Warmind bunkers, a crew from the Dark Kell's House had turned up. There had been shooting, and the towering Salvation captain had flung ice around at them. Koroa had managed to get his people out, but Hanka had taken a spear of ice through his thorax, in the process saving Koroa from it.
Back at their hideout, Koroa and his crew gathered in silence around a table. Laid atop it was a drab, almost colorless gray banner, without sigil. Arranged in the middle was a pile of herealways that the old Eliksni had kept, along with his cracked and broken mask, his knife laid in front of it all. The crew linked upper arms as they stood around it.
After a long, uncomfortable silence, Koroa spoke, low, solemn.
"Hanka. Once of House Waters, of House Wolves, of House Dusk. Now of None. Once born on Riis, scattered before the Whirlwind, stalwart before the Black Gale. Proud Eliksni. Now you are Fallen at last."
The crew bowed their heads. Koroa prepared to speak again, but then another spoke up. The stretched-lean Ezziur lifted his head as he spoke.
"Hanka. Once, we clashed. I was hot-tempered. Angry that we were scraping and starving, not going where we must to survive. You tried to check me. And you reminded me of why we burned our banners."
Ezziur paused, breath rasping.
"You are Fallen at last. But I will not forget what you taught me."
The whelp quieted, but then another lifted their head. Brazga's arms went taut around the shoulders of the two to either side, but their voice was clear as they also eulogized the fallen elder.
"Hanka. You found me when House Winter fell. Helped me find a place in your crew. Guided me to safety across the orbits as we fled Lights, Hive, Cabal. I would not be here if not for you."
Koroa waited, then nodded to the others as he spoke up again.
"Hanka. Every one of us here owes you more than we could say. When they would look to me for help, I looked to you, even as you looked to me as well. You were the elder we needed more than the old Elders of Riis. Another Eliksni lost to the Whirlwind, to the Gale. Now you go where there is no war. Where there is no hate. Where you will want for nothing."
As one, the crew laid a hand on the colorless banner. Koroa intoned quietly the next. As he spoke the ancient word whose meaning had been lost in the Whirlwind, the crew echoed it.
"Yarra. Go now to find your place in the Land of Endless Ether. Yarra. May the Great Machine guide you through the Calm Lands to the House of Eternity. Yarra. You are Fallen, but not Forgotten."
Then he added what had become part of their new tradition.
"Yarra. Go where there are no banners to divide us. Godenboraa. Bannerless forever.
Yarra yarra yarra."
They all bowed their heads as they repeated the conclusion of the rite. After a moment's silence, he divided the trinkets up among the crew equally, speaking to them, "Carry this with you for a span. A reminder that he is here, always with you." Then he quietly folded the banner around the mask and knife, and one last remaining herealways, which he personally took to bury near the ketch.
And so another spark passed from the world.
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