Damian stood atop the crimson-blue wall, facing Uncle Adam, Serala, and Grandmother Essun.
Behind them, Masamuk floated before the Chieftain and other tribesmen who had gathered to witness the impossible. One side was curious and inquisitive, the old wisewoman's yellow teeth visible in what might have been excitement. The other side was fearful and in awe, watching the stellar blue slime with expressions that suggested they weren't entirely certain they weren't dreaming.
The Inkanyamba remained in the distance, its serpentine form coiled in the air above the plains. Even shrunken, its presence was enough to make several tribesmen tremble.
Uncle Adam's weathered face was tight with concern as he looked from Masamuk to the distant Behemoth.
"Are you sure about this, Young Lugal?"
His voice was low, meant only for those nearby.
"I don't know much about Beast Lords, but can you really trust your life in their hands? Should you... do this?"
He shook his head slowly.
