The fire in the council ring burned low, casting long shadows across the central courtyard of Nouvo Lakay. Wordless tension gripped the air as villagers gathered—not by summons, but by the weight of something unspoken.
At the heart of the ring stood Zion, flanked by Ayomi, priestess of Papa Legba, Sael, priestess of Erzulie Freda, and Ayola, priestess of Baron Samedi. Behind them stood the remaining inner circle, silent, watchful.
Ayomi's eyes swept the crowd like wind through tall grass. Her voice, when it came, was steady but chilling:
"Some among us have opened their hands for gold—and turned their backs on the gods who marked them."
Gasps followed. Whispers erupted. Eyes turned, searching for guilt in familiar faces.
She stepped forward, her sigil glowing with golden fire beneath her skin.
"This is not a witch hunt. It is revelation. The crossroads never lie."
The Unmasking
With a wave of her hand, Ayomi signaled. One by one, eight villagers were pulled into the center by the temple guards—young men and women, all of whom bore the radiant sigils of the Lwa.
They kept their eyes low, shame thick on their shoulders. But none denied the truth.
Zion stepped forward, his voice heavy.
"You accepted gifts not meant for trade. You gave answers meant to stay within our walls. You betrayed the trust of the people… and the gods."
Ayola's eyes narrowed, the bone charms around her waist rattling faintly as if in warning.
Sael stepped forward next, brushing her fingers across her glowing sigil. A soft hum filled the air as divine power stirred.
"Erzulie does not tolerate betrayal disguised as charm. Those who love only gold have no place at her feet."
The Punishment of the Branded
Then came the moment the people didn't expect.
As Ayomi raised her hand, the branded sigils of the accused began to burn—not with fire, but with cold light, searing pain from the inside out.
The eight cried out, dropping to their knees. The sigils twisted, contorted… then vanished, leaving scorched scars behind.
"You are no longer marked," said Zion.
"The gods have turned their faces from you."
One tried to crawl forward, begging forgiveness. But Ayola raised a hand.
"Baron Samedi has no use for liars. You will live, but never again walk among the sacred."
They were exiled—each given a single satchel, food for the road, and a silent path out of Nouvo Lakay.
After the Fire
That night, silence held the village.
Children whispered of burning light and sigils vanishing in screams. Elders stared at the temple and whispered prayers. Warriors sharpened blades not for war—but for vigilance.
Ayomi stood atop the temple, wind teasing the edge of her robes. Sael sat near the fire, staring into its depths. Ayola watched the stars, her face unreadable.
Zion looked upon them all and said quietly to Thalia,
"The gods are watching again. We must remain worthy."