The burners were already packed with centuries of ash, but there was still enough space for the new incense to stand upright, angled slightly as dictated by the ritual.
One stick for every single ancestor.
SPARK
The incense sticks lit up on their own, as if guided by an unseen hand.
It was a staggering display, and the air grew heavy with reverence as the first few wisps of smoke rose.
Once everything was arranged, the youngsters stood side by side at the shrine's entrance. They bowed deeply toward the ancestral tablets. Then they bowed toward the heavens. Lastly, they bowed toward the sea, acknowledging their origins and their duty.
When the final bow ended, Shanhu Guimen began chanting.
Her voice was soft at first, filled with the trembling notes of ancient language. The others joined in, and soon the shrine trembled with the resonance of their combined voices. The sound seemed to stretch the fabric of air itself.
SHUA SHUA SHUA
