Niall stood over the decomposing remnants of the nosferatu and chanted in Gaelic-Sperethiel. It wasn’t a dialect Serrin knew, but he spoke the basic elven tongue well enough to understand the gist. The elf was committing the remains of the soul to the Great Shining Spirits, calling on their protection and righteousness, calling down retribution on the soul, weaving gleaming chains of karma in which to bind it for many lives to come.