The sun rose blood-red over Nouvo Lakay, casting long shadows over the great temple of stone, now completed and breathing with sacred energy.
Zion stood at the center of the massive courtyard carved from the earth by Milo's team. Around him, the three priestesses—Sael, Ayomi, and Ayola—formed a protective triangle, their sigils humming softly beneath their skin.
A ceremony had been called.
Zion raised his voice so all could hear:
"No words will be enough to protect us in the days ahead. Only action. Only offering. Only unity. Today, you will hunt—not for yourselves, but for the gods. Only beasts and blood shall be offered. No human life shall be taken. Not today."
He turned his gaze toward the crowd.
"Let your beasts run with you. Let them choose the prey. When you return, we shall light the fire. And the gods shall know we are ready."
The warriors bowed. The villagers whispered prayers. The youth, proud of their first marks, tightened their grips on spears and blades.
Then they scattered—man and beast, plunging into forest and river alike in search of worthy offerings.
The Shadow Gathers
Far from the sacred temple, a different kind of fire burned.
A tribe of corrupted sigils—wielders who had sold loyalty for power—gathered at a ruined stronghold, preparing for war. Their leader, Maoro, once a healer, now bore a twisted brand across his chest where a god's mark had been.
"Nouvo Lakay has grown too bold," he growled, "and their leader dares speak to gods as if he were one."
Among his ranks were warriors whose powers surged unnaturally—sigils bent, not blessed. They had found a new source, an unknown force beyond the Gate.
Behind them, Ashtborn survivors, once proud, now fractured, watched silently.
But in Nouvo Lakay, they were not forgotten.
A Chance for Redemption
Back at the temple, Zion addressed a smaller group: the Ashtborn prisoners. Once enemies, they now stood on the edge of something more.
"You were captured in battle," Zion began. "But today, I offer you a path. Hunt with us. Bring offerings as we do. If your hearts are true, you will no longer be prisoners. You will be part of this land."
Some scoffed.
Others looked away.
But a few—a young man with burn scars, a former war-priestess, and an older hunter who had lost everything—stepped forward.
They would hunt. They would prove themselves.
The Call of the Gods
As dusk fell, the fires around the temple were lit. Skins were laid out. Blood soaked the sacred stones.
Only one god answered.
Ogou.
Not as a whisper.
Not as a vision.
But as a presence—fiery and thunderous.
"War walks toward you," Ogou's voice echoed in the minds of the chosen. "You shall walk to meet it."
The ground trembled beneath their feet. Zion did not bow. He simply nodded.
"Then we will meet it in strength. You at our back. Thalia at the front. We do not fear fire. We burn brighter