Ash couldn't tell if he was remembering or dreaming. The memory was too sharp for a dream, but too strange for reality. They were all prepared for the festival. No body wanted to be left behind, with all invitations signed me Saka smiled with satisfaction.
" Proceed" He gestured as his lips curved an evil smirk.
They were standing in the center of the festival square. The crowd pressed in on all sides, a living wall of faces painted with pale masks. Above, the moon glowed huge and close, spilling its silver light over everything like a cold blessing.
That night had been the first night of the festival. A night that already felt like it had happened a lifetime ago. And yet every detail was burned into their minds.
The square was alive, wooden poles wrapped in vines and strung with lanterns ringed the space, their light swaying in the wind. The air was thick with scents, roasting meat, unfamiliar spices, and the faint metallic tang of the sea. Music drifted on the breeze: drums in a steady, hypnotic rhythm, punctuated by sharp notes from flutes carved out of bone.
The mayor's assistant Shulu with the too wide smile had led them up a short wooden staircase to a raised platform in the square's center. From there, they could see everything: the rows of masked villagers, the shimmer of moonlight on the rooftops, the subtle twitching of shadows in the alleys.
"Our guests of honor," Shulu announced, voice smooth and rich. "They have come from far away, unknowing of the role they were born to play and tonight, their journey begins."
The crowd murmured, a wave of low voices rippling outward.
Windy leaned toward Mira, whispering, "Feels like we're about to get crowned king and queen of something weird." She joked.
Then the cloaks came out.
They were deep black, the fabric soft and heavy, with a faint iridescent shimmer that caught the lantern light like wet feathers. The clasps at the neck were shaped like open unsettlingly realistic, complete with tiny veins and flecks in the iris.
One by one, the cloaks were draped over their shoulders. The weight of the fabric was strange not heavy exactly, but grounding, like it was pushing them into place.
When Ash's clasp was fastened, he felt a subtle warmth radiating from it, as if the metal had been lying in the sun all day.
The crowd erupted into applause each time a cloak was fitted. But the sound wasn't purely joyful there was an edge to it, something expectant and almost hungry.
After the cloaks, the caps were brought forward.
They were unlike anything the group had ever seen: a crown-like base made of tightly woven reeds, layered over with glossy black feathers that shone faintly green in the moonlight. Fixed to the front of each cap was a long, curved crocodile tooth, polished smooth but still sharp at the tip.
Mira remembered the smell a faint, dry scent of leather and salt, as if the caps had been stored for years in some sealed chest.
The mayor himself stepped forward to place the caps on their heads. His hands were cool and deliberate, adjusting each one so the tooth pointed just above the brow, giving the wearer a predatory silhouette.
The moment each cap was placed, the crowd's cheer swelled into a chant. The words were rhythmic, but in a language none of them recognizes.
Jayden had grinned nervously. "Okay… this is a lot."
Mira, standing rigid in her new cloak, had whispered back, "Why does this feel like we've done this before? The leather smells familiar.."
Ash didn't answer. Because he had felt it too.
The sensation wasn't just familiar, it was stronger, almost like stepping into a role she had once played in another lifetime. And under the noise of the crowd, there had been a faint thrum, like a heartbeat that wasn't his.
Shulu raised his hands for silence. "Tonight, we welcome them not just as guests, but as kin. Their names will be spoken by the island, carried by the wind, remembered by the tide."
The crowd replied as one, the chant growing louder.
Ash glanced toward the edge of the square. Just beyond the light, he thought he saw tall figures watching from the shadows. They didn't wear masks. Their faces pale and smooth, without eyes or mouths.
When he blinked, they were gone.
The ceremony continued. Bowls were brought forward, each filled with a dark liquid that shimmered like oil. One by one, they were instructed to dip a finger into the bowl and press it to the crocodile tooth on their caps. The liquid clung to the ivory like ink sinking into paper.
Saka spoke again, voice low but carrying. "The tooth remembers the river's hunger. The feathers remember the sky's silence. Wear them, and you will walk between the two."
Ash's stomach turned.
The music surged drums and flutes rising into a chaotic, swirling rhythm. Villagers began to dance in slow, looping steps, their masked faces tilting toward the moon. Some moved forward to brush their fingertips across the teens' cloaks, murmuring words too soft to catch.
By the time the dancing stopped, the moon had climbed higher, casting sharper shadows across the square.
Shulu stepped forward one last time. "The first night is only the opening of the gate tomorrow, the path will appear. And they will walk in it."
The crowd cheered again, though the cheer felt more like a seal on a pact than a celebration.
---
After the ceremony, the group was led away from the square through narrow streets lined with flickering torches. No one spoke not even Jayden. The night air was cooler now, the scent of the sea stronger.
As they walked, Ash kept glancing over his shoulder. He could swear he heard footsteps behind them, perfectly matched to their own, but whenever he turned, the street was empty.
Windy broke the silence first. "Okay, I'm just gonna say it... that was seriously weird."
Mira hugged her cloak tighter. "Weird isn't the word. It felt… familiar."
"Yeah," Ash said quietly. "Like we've done this before."
No one laughed at that.
When they reached their lodgings a long, low building with carved shutters and walls painted the color of the tide shulu stopped at the door.
"Rest well," he said, smiling just enough to show the tips of his teeth. "The island is watching. It wants to see what you'll do..."
Then he left them there, the sound of his footsteps fading into the night.
Inside, the rooms were lit by a single lamp each. The beds were soft, the blankets woven with patterns that echoed the shapes of feathers and teeth. The cloaks and caps hung on wooden pegs, but somehow Ash couldn't stop glancing at them as if the fabric might shift on its own.
Long after the others had drifted to sleep, Ash lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The thrum he had felt earlier was still there, deep in his chest not his heartbeat, but something older, slower, and far more patient.
And somewhere outside, faint but unmistakable, the chant from the square began again.
---