The circle of Lwa pulsed with a restless energy—like a storm gathering before the first crack of thunder. Shadows flickered and danced on the walls of Papa Legba's house, the night outside deep and watchful.
Zion stood silent and small among the towering spirits, feeling the weight of their divine presence pressing down like the heat before a firestorm.
The Debate
Ogou Feray's voice cut through the tension like a sharpened blade.
"We strike first. We crush the head of this enemy tribe's god before they gather strength. Show them the cost of their ambition."
Erzulie Freda shook her head, her silk gown rustling like leaves in a gentle breeze.
"No. Violence begets violence. We must first try to sway them, heal their hate. Let love and mercy break their will."
Ayizan's eyes gleamed behind her veil, voice cold and precise.
"This is no time for mercy. Knowledge tells us this enemy's god is ancient, corrupt, and hungry. If we delay, they will devour us all."
Maman Brigitte laughed, dark and sharp.
"Let them come. We'll have a feast—blood and souls aplenty. The stronger the battle, the richer the harvest for us."
Baron Samedi's grin widened beneath his tilted hat.
"Ah, yes. I smell a banquet already. But let us not be greedy. There are many souls to collect, many to choose from. Which ones shall be mine?"
Zion's Shock
Zion's heart pounded. The fear he had felt earlier now twisted into confusion and disbelief.
These gods… they speak as if the enemy tribe and their god are nothing more than food.
His gaze darted between their faces, searching for some sign of mercy, of alliance. But there was none.
They were predators.
Papa Legba's Command
Suddenly, Papa Legba's cane struck the earth with a commanding rap.
"Enough."
The voices fell silent, the tension snapping like a broken branch.
"We do not feast tonight."
He fixed them all with a sharp gaze.
"The enemy god's head will not fall until we drink rum together at the end of this storm."
He looked to Baron Samedi.
"You, guardian of souls, forfeit your claim—for all the warriors of that tribe, their passage is mine."
The room quieted.
A fragile calm settled.
The Unspoken Truth
Zion felt the weight of that decision.
It was not surrender.
It was a pause.
A moment to gather strength.
To prepare.
Because when the feast finally came—
It would be the end of more than just a tribe.