Frontline – The March to Fire
The army of Nouvo Lakay moved like a single organism—disciplined, purposeful, and heavy with silence. Each warrior bore their sigil like a badge of fate. Some whispered prayers to their gods; others gripped weapons carved from sacred stone and bone.
Thalia, cloaked in a red mantle etched with the marks of Ogou, led from the front. Her gaze stayed fixed ahead. Behind her, the Seven Faces of Ogou stirred in her blood, each one murmuring a different war-song in her mind.
They approached the border of the corrupted tribe's land—ashes marked the earth, and twisted totems bled from the trees.
Zion, walking beside her, spoke low.
"This isn't war for territory. This is punishment. Show them what it means to take blood for coin."
Thalia nodded once. Then raised her spear.
"Make them remember the fire we carry."
At that moment, a messenger hawk arrived. The signal was clear.
Enemy scouts spotted.
Contact imminent.
Nouvo Lakay's Gate – The Waiting
Outside the sealed gate, the new tribe camped with quiet patience. Their elders built small cooking fires; their children played with stones; their warriors stood facing the mist-shrouded wall.
No door, no movement. Just Ayomi, seated cross-legged atop the high stone archway, her eyes closed in meditation.
Some of the newcomers grew uneasy. One young warrior, arms covered in paint, stepped forward.
"How long must we wait like beggars?" he asked.
Ayomi opened her eyes. Her voice was calm but final.
"Until the gods return from battle."
He scoffed but stepped back, sensing something behind her words—a weight too heavy to challenge.
Down below, Sael walked the outer edges of the tribe's camp, offering water, herbs, and peaceful smiles. She greeted mothers and elderly with kindness, calming the fear they wouldn't speak aloud. She didn't know when the gate would open, but she knew this:
Their arrival was not chance.
Something was guiding them here.
Frontline – Blood and Flame
The enemy came from the trees, swift and loud, their corrupted sigils glowing with a sickly green hue. They wore bones for armor and wielded jagged blades.
Thalia's voice rang out.
"Hold the line!"
The warriors of Nouvo Lakay formed a V-formation, shields forward, spears braced. The ground shook as the two forces collided.
Zion moved through the chaos like lightning, sword dancing in wide arcs. Every swing was justice. Every fallen foe was a warning delivered.
One corrupted warrior lunged at Thalia. She caught the blade on her bracer, twisted, and drove her spear through his chest—sigil flaring, blood sizzling as it hit her armor.
"Ogou is watching," she muttered.
Behind her, chants began from Ayola. Her hands lifted bone charms as she blessed the wounded and cursed the dying.
Nouvo Lakay's Gate – Stirring Winds
As dusk settled, the mist at the Gate began to swirl.
Ayomi opened her eyes again—this time with a sharp inhale.
She had seen something.
"The god has spoken," she whispered.
She stood. Raised her hand. From the stone of the gate, a crack of golden light spread outward—a heartbeat pulsing through the wall.
The new tribe saw it.
And they fell to their knees.
Not in fear.
Not in submission.
But in recognition.
They were meant to be here. But not yet.
Ayomi turned away.
The gate remained closed.
Closing Image
Far across the land, the battlefield smoldered. The corrupted force was broken, but not yet destroyed.
Thalia's armor was dented. Her face bore blood that was not her own. But her spear still stood upright in her grip.
Zion approached her. Quietly.
"We move at dawn. This wasn't the war. This was only the knock at the door."
Thalia didn't answer.
She simply looked to the horizon.
And for the first time, she saw the storm coming.