The sun broke over Bulemezi like a solemn blessing, its light filtered through the morning mist that clung to the ancient groves surrounding the royal shrine. It was a sacred place, built generations ago where the land hummed with old spirits. Today, its grounds were crowded with thousands. People stood shoulder to shoulder: villagers from the lake shores, warriors from distant provinces, elders wrapped in ceremonial barkcloth, clan heads in polished beads and feathers.
The shrine itself was shaped in a perfect oval, the thatched roof rimmed with red and black dye, its foundation ringed with ancestral stones said to whisper to the gods. A sacred fire burned in its center, fed by oils and herbs brought from every corner of the kingdom. Around the fire stood Buganda's spiritual elders, their faces painted in ash and ochre.
The ritual began with silence.
