In the center of the crude gathering place, a pillar of flame burst from the stone basin—soaring far beyond anyone's expectations, lighting up every awestruck face in the crowd.
The tribespeople gasped, then erupted in celebration. Disbelief gave way to elation as they raised their voices in praise.
But amidst the cheers, one figure remained still—an elder with time-creased features, leaning heavily on his weathered staff. Sovita's heart thudded in his chest.
He remembered his own moment in that very place. The flame that welcomed him had barely risen a foot from the brazier's surface. Yet the former priest had smiled and declared that Sovita would lead them toward greatness.
And he had.
Under Sovita's guidance, their once-obscure Crimson Star Tribe had flourished. They were now respected among their neighbors. Stronger. Larger. Twelve brave warriors bore the tribe's mark, and over two hundred people called the growing village home. Even a sacred gathering ground had been established.
Yet never—not once—had Sovita seen a flame like this.
A sign. A miracle. A divine message.
Choking on awe, Sovita moved closer. He steadied himself and turned to the young man beside the brazier.
"What do they call you, child?" the priest asked, voice hoarse.
"Enzo," came the soft reply.
Sovita gave a slow nod.
With deliberate ceremony, he raised Enzo's arm and addressed the crowd: "From this moment forward, Enzo shall carry the title of Priest of the Crimson Star Tribe! He will guide us into a future of strength and victory! He shall be the heart of a new era!"
"Totem Tribe!" someone cried.
"Totem Tribe!" the crowd echoed, voices overlapping with hope and fervor.
Enzo, meanwhile, stood there wide-eyed, still trying to make sense of everything. One moment he'd been hunted—claimed—by a wild young woman. The next, he was being proclaimed as the tribe's spiritual leader.
Was no one else questioning how fast this was happening?
Apparently not. To everyone present, the flame had spoken.
It was enough.
As the noise quieted, Sovita turned back to him, eyes bright with something between pride and relief. "You have questions, I'm sure. I did too, once. But take heart—this is no curse. The strength you carry… it is rare. And what lies ahead, Enzo, will elevate you beyond even your own understanding."
Without hesitation, Sovita removed the necklace from around his own neck—a chain of fangs—and selected the largest tooth. Holding it over the brazier, he blackened its tip, then used it to draw an intricate shape across Enzo's forehead.
"This mark binds you to the flame," the priest said solemnly. "When you can sense it—command it—you will be ready to begin your true path."
Enzo instinctively touched the symbol.
At once, he felt a current—like warmth beneath his skin, pulsing gently. Lifting his hand toward the flame, he focused—and the fire danced in response, growing, shrinking, twisting with his movements.
"Like this?" he asked, glancing at Sovita.
The priest stared at him, mouth slightly open.
After several long seconds, he spoke. "You… already control it?"
Enzo nodded.
Sovita blinked, then laughed—a wheezing, startled sound. "Then you are more than rare. You are… blessed. It took me nearly a week to feel the flame. You did it in moments."
Still, the elder cleared his throat and composed himself. "You are ready, yes. But we must prepare the rites and gather the sacred knowledge. We begin in three days."
Turning to the girl beside Enzo, he added, "Tia. Take him. Show him the tribe, teach him what he must know."
She nodded quickly, her usual ferocity subdued into something more reverent.
As Sovita dismissed the crowd, the tribespeople slowly dispersed, still murmuring in awe.
Enzo turned to Tia, ready to ask something, but she beat him to it. Her tone was soft, almost bashful. "Priest Enzo… is there anything you wish to know?"
He blinked at her, puzzled by her sudden change in behavior.
"Could you… not do that?" he asked. "I prefer you wild. That's who you really are."
Tia paused, cheeks reddening. "Enzo?"
"Mhm."
She brightened immediately, her boldness rushing back. "You really mean it? When the flame didn't respond earlier, I was terrified. I thought we were lost. But then you—"
"Alright, alright," Enzo interrupted with a chuckle, realizing her enthusiasm had no brakes. Still, her nearness, the warmth of her skin, the subtle scent that clung to her—something primal stirred in him.
Moments later, back in her cave, they resumed what had been cut short earlier.
Now, however, there was no contest for control—Tia yielded freely, letting Enzo explore this newfound bond with full agency. The night became an exchange of strength and submission, one defined by ritual and instinct alike.
Afterwards, with Tia resting against him, Enzo noticed something.
His body felt different.
Lighter. Stronger. Quicker.
He glanced at his reflection in a pool of water by the cave's edge and saw it—the faint glow on his forehead.
The mark.
It wasn't just ceremonial—it was enhancing him. Bit by bit.
This tribe wasn't what it seemed.
Lazily, he brushed Tia's hair aside and murmured, "What do you know about this place… the tribe, the others around us?"
Sleepy but content, she nuzzled closer and began to explain. "No one really knows how long our tribe has existed. It could be centuries. But the Venom Tribe to the south… they've always been our enemies. They live in the swamps, use poison, and never let anyone near. I was hunting a horned serpent—it ran into their land, and they stole it. I nearly had it…"
She huffed.
"And the fire in the brazier?" Enzo asked.
"We call it the tribal flame," she murmured. "It's what lets the priest bless warriors and give them power. Only a real priest can awaken it."
As she drifted off, Enzo stared at the flickering light from the cave entrance.
Magic. Totems. Divine rituals. A world suspended between the ancient and the supernatural.
And in three days, he'd begin learning the truth behind it all.
But before sleep claimed him, he remembered something else.
"Tia," he asked, "when you found me… was there anything near me? Anything unusual?"
She furrowed her brow. "You mean… like that black satchel?"