The Rite of the Four Veils

Calikan lore speaks of the Great Sundering, an age-old cataclysm when war and famine left thousands unburied (The Great Sundering is the same event that is called Titan Wars on the western continent of Boresia). Their anguished shades, called bhuuta, plagued the living, and no temple could quiet them until the sage Rhabathan taught the first Prenara (lit. “veil-bearer”) how to “fold the winds of the unseen.” Since the 8th century of the Lotus Calendar, Rhabathan’s method has been repeated four times a year - at the cusp of each monsoon, harvest, winter chill, and spring bloom - moments when the boundary between realms is thinnest.

Execution of the Rite

At the first hint of dawn, long before the streets of Calika stir, the Surodani shuffle barefoot across the temple forecourt, their white robes whispering against the stone. With chalky fingers they trace a vast pattern - four concentric gates that surround the central altar like ripples frozen in time. Into the circle’s cardinal points they set glowing embers from the ancient Tramani tree, and coils of sandal-wood and myrrh are coaxed to life, their smoke drifting upward in pale petition.
By mid-morning families begin to arrive, each clutching a clay soul-token pressed reverently to the brow. They gather along the pattern’s outermost ring and, in soft unison, chant the Six-Fold Farewell, their voices weaving through the incense haze like threads of muted grief. A Prenara - veil-staff upright and eyes half-closed in prayer - moves slowly among them. One by one he accepts the plaques and lowers them into a bronze urn that rings with a hollow, expectant note every time a new name is added.
When the sun reaches its apex the temple bells fall silent, and the Rite enters its most perilous phase. The four Prenaras step inward and lift their neem staves high. As they turn with ritual precision, coloured bands of silk unwind and billow overhead, forming a trembling canopy that seems to peel back the very skin of the world. Around them the apprentices knot the cotton Thread of Closure, repeating the Peace prayer in steady rhythm, each knot a stitch sealing the rent between life and death.
The urn is then placed upon the Tramani embers. Heat spider-webs across the clay until it cracks, releasing a fragrant plume that rises, twists, and vanishes beneath the silken veil. Sometimes the air stills and the Rite proceeds in calm; other times a sudden chill sweeps the courtyard or invisible hands claw at the canopy. On those storm-touched days a Prenara raises the Bell of Dawn and sends three thunderous blasts rolling across the rooftops, a sound said to shiver even the most obstinate ghost-chains. The disturbance always subsides; the veil shivers once more and settles.
At twilight, as the first bats flicker through violet skies, the ashes of the shattered urn are mixed with holy water. The procession winds down to the close river, lanterns bobbing in the dusk, and the grey slurry is poured into the current. A faint hiss is the only sign of passage as the spirits are carried toward the Quiet Shore. Back in the temple, the Thread of Closure - now dense with knots - is hung from the Tramani’s lowest branch, where it will dangle for a season, catching any stragglers the Rite may have missed. Only when the final lantern is extinguished do the Prenaras lay their staves to rest, confident that, for another quarter of the year, the restless dead will sleep.

Rite of the Four Veils by Tillerz using MJ

Observance by the People

While the priests prepare the pattern inside the temple walls, the city beyond slips into an almost uncanny hush. From the first pale line of sunrise until the Bell of Dawn sounds, shops remain shuttered, forges grow cold, and even children keep their voices to whispers. Households take only a sip of water or a spoon of yogurt, believing that an emptiness of the stomach leaves room for the spirits to pass without envy or resentment.
When dusk deepens and the procession files toward the river, every doorway along its route glimmers with tiny brass lamps. Families set them on windowsills or verandas - one flame for each ancestor they still remember, another for those whose names time has erased. The lamplight trembles on the slow-moving crowd, as if thousands of small stars have descended to guide the departing souls.
With the night fully settled, the fast is broken in a gentler way than any feast. Children ladle warm molar - sweet rice simmered in milk and jaggery - into clay bowls and carry them into the streets, offering the food to beggars first and then to any passer-by. Elders say that the hungry dead taste the charity through living lips; feeding the poor is how mortals soothe the last remaining spirits on their journey.
At dawn on the following day, the Prenara stands in the central bazaar beside a newly inked scroll. In a clear, resonant voice he reads out the names that were committed to the urn, pausing after each for a heartbeat of silence so the living may feel the weight lifted from their world. Merchants and laborers bow their heads, reassured that no angry shade lingers unaccounted for. Only after the final name does the market erupt into its ordinary clamor, life flooding back into the streets as though the city itself has drawn a fresh breath.
And down at the riverbank, those who rose early swear they can always tell how well the Rite succeeded: if the ashes met the water with a hiss like quenched iron, troubled nights lie ahead; but if the river merely sighed and carried the grey plume downstream, then, for a season at least, Calika may sleep un-haunted.

Rite of the Four Veils by Tillerz using MJ

Participants

Role Title	Function
Prenara	Senior spectral priests - one per main district - who conduct the Rite and bear the ancestral Veil-Staves.
Surodani (“thread-binders”)	Apprentices who prepare the rituals and record the names of the newly dead.
Totor-kin	Family members of anyone who has died since the previous Rite; they offer the soul-tokens.
Tramani Guard	Lay volunteers who maintain crowd order and keep fire wards lit - named after the sacred fig tree they protect.

Components & Tools

Component	Description
Veil-Staves	Carved neem poles wound with four silken bands (white, saffron, indigo, black) representing the seasons.
Tramani Embers	Glowing charcoal from a centuries-old sacred fig; believed to draw spirits “as moths to a lamp.”
Soul-Tokens	Clay leaf-shaped plaques inscribed with a departed person’s manja (birth-star) and final breath phrase.
Thread of Closure	A twelve-strand cotton cord anointed with vetiver oil, knotted at each recitation of the Peace prayer.
Bell of Dawn	Sounded only when a stubborn bhuuta resists; its triple blast is said to “shiver the ghost-chains.”