Deep in the depths of some long forgotten tomb, an equally forgotten man toiled before a corpse so forgotten that it had no name; there were no records of it, no relatives to pass down its legacy, for all intents and purpose it was little more than fragments of bone barely held together by what little matter remained between the joints. And yet in that moment, to the man who toiled, that nameless body was everything. All that had been, all that could be, it held a universe of potential within those yellowed bones. It transcended all, if only for a second.
That forgotten man was set upon his knees, his lips moved with archaic tongue that too had nearly been lost to the throws of time. Throughout the buried tomb, inside that chamber he knelt within, faint wisps of smoke danced through the air from the tips of several incense sticks, the air was heavy with it, and various scents adorned the space between them. Some floral, some sickly, some which reminded one of death, and others of a bright summers morning. They twisted and entwined with one another to form a smell so strange it was decidedly alien, and impossible to truly put one's finger on.
But the forgotten man paid it no heed. He just continued to chant with head held high, and eyes fixed upon a point near the ceiling. His arms reached out, fingers splayed toward the heavens, and the room grew heavy and darker as candles dotted around the room began to extinguish one by one by one...
And then, all at once, all was still.
