The trail back from the eastern highlands was quiet—Zion and Thalia moved steadily across the narrow ridge, Jakael gliding above them in slow arcs. Below, Nouvo Lakay stretched out like a growing root system—vibrant, complex, alive.
Zion's voice broke the stillness.
"We need better eyes. More ears. Someone who can open doors before they're shut."
Thalia gave him a look. "You mean spies?"
"No," he said, "I mean gatekeepers of truth. And there's only one person who walks between the doors of silence and speech."
The Voice at the Crossroads
At the center of the village, beneath the sprawling arch of the Temple's new stonework, Ayomi, priestess of Papa Legba, knelt in quiet meditation. Her sigil shimmered faintly beneath her skin—shifting like script yet unwritten, glowing soft gold in the firelight.
When Zion approached, she opened her eyes and smiled knowingly.
"You're ready to open new doors."
Zion nodded.
"I want you to oversee all intelligence and communication. Every rumor. Every whisper. Every foreign word. I trust you to find what's true."
Ayomi stood gracefully, her face calm but sharp with focus.
"And the people under me?"
"You choose them. But each must bear Papa Legba's sigil. This is a path for those who understand both silence and language."
Ayomi's gaze deepened.
"Then the crossroads shall have guardians."
Trouble in the Stalls
As Ayomi began to form her Circle of Listeners, danger crept into Nouvo Lakay's streets—not as an enemy army, but as gentle smiles and too-kind gestures from visiting tribes.
Shimmering beads. Imported fabrics. Fine oils and foreign sweets.
Traders from distant villages began offering gifts not for trade—but for favor. Some younger tribe members, dazzled by the attention, accepted them without hesitation.
"A token of peace," they said.
"Just a friendly exchange."
But the questions soon followed.
"Who oversees the temple at night?"
"Do you know when the patrols change?"
"What does the priestess of Erzulie keep locked in her chambers?"
And worse—some began to answer.
The Priestess Watches
It was Sael, priestess of Erzulie Freda, who sensed something wrong. The rhythm of the market had shifted. Strangers lingered too long. Some familiar villagers had grown… evasive.
She brought her worries to Thalia, now head of all defense.
"The market has shadows," Sael said. "I smell gold in the dust."
Thalia responded swiftly. Patrols were adjusted. Guard posts quietly reinforced. Outsiders were kept from wandering freely.
But it was Ayomi who began turning the lock—not with threats, but with quiet conversation, sacred riddles, and the careful observation of the unspoken.
She knew which questions to ask.
And more importantly—she knew when someone was lying.
Before the Storm
As the sun set behind the temple walls, Nouvo Lakay stood on a delicate edge.
Prosperity brought temptation. Growth brought risk.
And as Ayomi expanded her network of listeners, quietly identifying those who had been compromised, Zion watched the village with measured calm.
"The crossroads are opening," he said to Thalia, one hand resting on the hilt of his blade.
"Now we must choose which roads to close."
But even Papa Legba cannot open every door without cost.
And somewhere beyond the veil of words, a deeper challenge was preparing to speak.