5 1/2 months later M.C P.O.V
The village is illuminated by the lights of the tiki torch as dragons moving around putting up decorations. The village was the more alive today then it had been seen I been here Metal told me that it only get more so as we get closer to the festival. The new dragon festival was a celebration of all new dragons that had hatched this year in the village and was the most important event for the clan. I looked around the village and taking it all in I had been here for 6 months so it felt like it was also a celebration for me. I looked to the village taking in everything only to see Ur climbing to the top of the clan chiefs hut.
"Get down from there!" I yelled at Ur who somehow had climbed to the top of hut not far from me. "Ok!" he yelled back in his babyish voice and jumped off towards the ground I ran as fast I could hoping to catch him before he landed. Only to see a large dragon grab him out of the air as I got closer I saw that it was chief Alaka'i. She was holding Ur by his neck he swinging his arms trying to break out of her grasp. She hand him to me not saying anything I took the nearly 3 feet dragon and was about to go only to stopped by her. She placed a hand on me shoulder "I wish to speak with you after the celebration" she informed me. I nodded to her she nodded back and then turned around and walked away.
Brave Hart P.O.V
I held my breath at the sight of mother holding youngest brother while talking to older brother. Mother had made it clear that she did not like youngest brother and she felt its was older brothers fault. I about to ran to them to make sure mother did not harm them but she just hand Ur to older brother and then walked away. I still ran wanting to make sure they safe and mother had not said anything to them.
"Brother" I yelled to the two of them as I caught up to them they stopped when I did and waited for me. Brother waved at me his way of saying hello that something I noticed about older brother he likes to speak with actions and not words. Ur on the other hand just jumped at me I sighed he been like this since our last train section where older brother let him spar for the first time. I grabbed him out the air and slammed him to the ground. He may be strong for a new born but he still just that a new born who has not even seen his first solar cycle.
Older brother picked up Ur from the ground Ur fought his hands trying to beak free from the his grasp. But he was not really trying Brave hart did understand that about Ur he loved older brother and enjoyed when he carried him. But then he always acts like he doesn't enjoy when it happens, then he also gets mad when ever brother does the same with youngest sister. Letting out another sigh at the thought I once again looked to older brother. "May we speak ?" I asked him he looked to me "sure" he said. I indicate for him to follow me and walked towards a place that was little out of the way.
I brought them to a small filed that most of village tend to avoid because of how close it is to the worshiping ground. I asked brother to sit down I wanted to look him in the eye when I do this mother said that was important. "Bother, no Dracule would you let join your team ?" I asked brother looked at me in confusion. "Are you not already ?" he asked me I looked at him in confusion thinking he was not understanding me. "I mean when you leave the village I want to go with you" I said he seemed to understand me now. Brother look at me the confusion gone along with his usual kindness replaced with the seriousness need for this kind of conversation.
"Why?" he asked a simple question but one that I had been thinking about for the last few weeks knowing he would ask it. "I have reached my peak" I said seeing that he need more I continued "I have reached my peak in the village. There is nothing left for me to learn here and wish to challenge myself and there none left here" I told brother. "Ok, then why with me?" he asked I looked at him in confusion not understanding what he asking. "I mean there be other humans came to island in half a solar cycle so why go with me and not one of them?" he asked.
I took a deep berth that question was so insulting "how could you even ask something like that!" I yelled at him. I about to walk out on him how could he after all the time we spent together ask why I could chose someone else when he was a option. Just as I about to yell at him again I felt a hand on my head looking up I saw it brothers. He was smiling and patting my head that jerk he was playing with me I almost want to yell at him. But he took hand off my head and looked at me with seriousness again. "Have you talked with parents about this?" he asked me I looked down when asked me this because I had not. I knew that father would allow it but mother would be difficult I shook my head. Brother sighed "then we we will have to talk to them" he said as if not anything major but I knew that he understood it not be easy.
M.C P.O.V
Brave hart and I spent the next few hours talking about how we talk to her parents and decided we talk to them after the festival. The two of us made our way out of the hut and then headed to town square. The square was decorated just like the other parts of the village with tiki torch and grass ornaments. There was massive platform in the center with all the clan eggs arranged in rows and placed in view of all villagers. The dancers where taking there places Infront of the platform getting ready to start the celebration.
3rd P.O.V
The sun had just dipped behind the jagged cliffs of the Koʻolau range, casting long golden rays over the beach. A hush fell over the crowd gathered beneath the swaying palms. Torches flickered to life one by one, their flames dancing in the soft breeze as the sound of a single pahu drum being played by a large gorilla echoed across the sand.
A line of dancers stepped forward from the shadows, barefoot in the cooling earth, their hips swaying to a rhythm older than the islands themselves. Each wore a traditional paʻu skirt and a lei of fragrant plumeria, moonlight catching in their hair and eyes. Their expressions were focused, serene like guardians of a story passed down by ancestors.
The chant began a low, haunting oli, sung in the langue of their home land telling of Solgaleo, the goddess of fire and volcanoes. The dancers moved as one, each hand gesture painting images in the air: the crash of waves, the flicker of flame, the sorrow of exile, the strength of a rising mountain. A young female dragon stood in the center of the line, lifted her arms with grace, her hands flowing like lava down the slope of a volcano. The audience sat transfixed, caught in the quiet power of her motion each sway of her hips a heartbeat, each step a prayer.
Behind them, a musician strummed a mellow ukulele chord, weaving into the rising tempo. The ancient chant gave way to song, and the hula softened movements now fluid, graceful, almost playful celebrating not gods or wars, but love and the fragrant rain that fell on the land. The young dragons watched wide-eyed elders nodded, lips silently mouthing the words. For a moment, time loosened its grip and the past danced alongside the present under the torchlight, feet pressing into the sand, hands telling stories the stars would never forget.
After the dance the female dancers all fell back into a line in front of platform holding the eggs as crowd waited with bated breath. From the shadows emerged a single figure barefoot, bare chested, his scales glistening with sweat and coconut oil. A red malo wrapped around his waist, his dark hair tied back. His expression was solemn, intense, almost otherworldly.
In his hands, he held twin nifo oti (fire knives) their blades already wrapped in Kevlar wicks soaked in fuel. A second dancer appeared behind him, and then a third, each in turn stepping into the circle of light, their weapons ready, their presence commanding. A drumbeat cracked through the silence deep, resonant, primal. Another joined, faster. Then a third. The rhythm pulsed like a heartbeat, like the rumble of lava beneath the earth. With a sudden roar, the dancer struck his blades together and fire bloomed.
Gasps rose from the crowd as he spun the flaming knives through the air, trails of light carving spirals and slashes against the night sky. The fire roared with each arc, the blades spinning so fast they disappeared in blurs of orange and gold. He moved like water set aflame precise, fluid, untouchable. One moment, he crouched low, blades dancing mere inches above the sand; the next, he leapt into the air, fire trailing behind him like a comet's tail. The flames painted his face in shifting light: now a warrior, now a ghost, now a god.
The other dancers joined him, weaving through the circle with disciplined chaos, their movements synchronized yet wild. They twirled and flipped, tossed blades high into the night sky — only to catch them mid-spin as though the fire itself obeyed their will. This was not hula. It was not soft or melodic. This was a war dance. A battle between dragons and flame. Between danger and control. But it was more than spectacle.
It was the Samoan fire knife dance (Siva Afi ) born in home Island, passed between islands, honored and reimagined here in the island as a show of warrior spirit and cultural pride. Each movement had meaning. Each spin of the blade echoed with the footsteps of generations before them. The lead dancer Kalani moved closer to the edge of the circle, so near the audience could feel the heat wash over them. Children leaned forward, eyes wide, only to be stop by the older dragons. Kalani spun a single flaming knife behind his back, caught it, and tossed it high into the air.
Time seemed to stop.
The blade rose, spinning end over end, flames licking the sky. Then effortlessly Kalani caught it in a reverse grip, dropped to one knee, and slammed the blade into the sand, extinguishing the flame in a plume of smoke and glowing embers. Silence. Then a thunderous cheer. But Kalani wasn't done.
He stood, nodded once to the drummers, and raised both knives again. The other dancers stepped back, forming a semi-circle. The drums changed now faster, sharper, like the sound of a chase. Kalani's eyes locked on the fire.
He began to spin both knives at once each in opposite directions faster and faster until they were no longer blades but rings of fire encircling his body. He crouched low, flipped forward in a perfect roll, and came up again without losing momentum. The flames roared around him as if they were alive hungry, defiant. Sweat poured down his brow, but his hands never faltered. Every move was carved from years of muscle memory, training, and respect for the danger he courted with every pass. He finished with a sudden, explosive motion — slamming both blades into the sand again with a grunt. The flames died instantly. Smoke curled upward like spirits leaving the circle. The drums stopped.
Kalani stood, chest heaving, and looked into the crowd. Not at anyone in particular — but as if he saw them all at once. Then, slowly, he bent into a respectful bow, touching the ground with one hand and raising the other skyward in thanks. Then he raised his head to the sky as the other dancers did the same. Then orbs of purple flames formed in their mouths then they fired the orbs flew into the sky. They explode in a dazzling light crating scene that defied all logic. As the light died down the audience erupted.
Some clapped, others whistled. A few simply sat in stunned silence, unable to process what they had just witnessed not just a performance, but a ceremony. A ritual. A dance between dragon and the rawest element of nature. As Kalani walked away, fire knives tucked under his arm, the torches lining the beach flickered in the wind, casting long shadows behind him.