Chapter Eighteen: The Laughter in the Soil

The air changed the moment they crossed the ridgeline, stepping into the outer villages that once marked the border between Murenga and Vhuramu. It wasn't just silence — silence was natural, even expected in lands scarred by war.

This was hollow silence — like something had scooped the sound out of the air and left only a thin skin of reality stretched too tight over nothing.

Kael led, though his steps were slower than usual. Lion Totem sensed it too, some wrongness it couldn't name, only growl at in his bones. The others followed, weapons drawn, though none of them knew exactly what they were bracing for.

The village they entered had no name anymore — not on any map, not in any elder's memory. Ash clung to the air, but there were no bodies, no wreckage, just empty doorways and totem shrines reduced to cracked stone and withered wood.

Nyeredzi's head tilted slightly, her right eye flickering silver, her left eye milky and still. She walked slower than the others, her fingers trailing through the air, as if brushing against invisible strings only she could feel.

"There were spirits here," she said quietly. "But something… chewed through them."

Dendera's shield shifted on his back, the weight somehow heavier in this place. "Chewed?" he repeated, voice low.

Nyeredzi only nodded.

Tafara was the first to step past her, his usual bravado muted. "Okay, so where the hell is everyone?"

It was Ranga who answered — not with words, but with a laugh.

Not his usual wild cackle — this one was short, sharp, almost involuntary, like his throat was releasing something his mind hadn't approved. The others turned to him, but Ranga was staring at something they couldn't see.

His eyes were glazed, and along his neck, the faint outline of his Hyena Totem markings rippled, like something underneath his skin was… twitching.

"Ranga," Kael said, voice even. "What do you see?"

Ranga shook his head, blinking back into focus. "Nothing." His voice was too light, too fast. "Old memories. This place just feels—"

The laugh came again. Not from him this time.

It came from the soil.

The ground beneath their feet exhaled laughter, not in any single spot, but from everywhere, like the land itself remembered something funny.

Kael's sword was in his hand before he even thought about it. The others braced too, but there was nothing to fight — just the village, empty and waiting, and that low, thin laugh seeping up from the earth.

Nyeredzi's right eye shone brighter, the silver glow stretching out into the air around her like delicate threads. She turned, slowly, tracing the threads like a spider following silk.

"What is it?" Kael asked.

Nyeredzi's voice was far away. "It's not them."

"Not who?"

"The Vhuramu," she said. "They're just the hands. This is the mouth."

Tafara frowned. "That's comforting."

Ranga's skin crawled under his spirit-markings, the Hyena Totem inside him pacing, claws scraping over some ancient memory Ranga himself couldn't quite reach. It felt like hunger, but not for food. This was the hunger of something that remembered eating you — and wondering if you still tasted the same.

The laughter from the earth shifted, becoming higher, almost playful — like it knew they were listening now.

Ranga's hand tightened around his spears, but they felt wrong in his grip, like they were too small for the fear swelling inside him.

"It's just a trick," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Just some spirit trying to scare us."

Nyeredzi's head turned slightly, her voice soft. "No. This isn't a spirit."

"What is it, then?"

She stepped closer to him, and in the faint silver light of her eye, Ranga's shadow stretched out behind him — but it didn't move the way it should.

It laughed.

Nyeredzi's voice was quieter now. "It remembers you."

The whole Circle went still.

Kael's voice was sharp, cutting through the thickening dread. "What does that mean?"

Nyeredzi's right eye flickered, images dancing there — a spirit-plain covered in bones, all gnawed clean, all bearing the faint markings of Hyena Totems from ages past.

Ranga didn't speak.

Because his Totem was screaming.

Nyeredzi answered for him. "Ranga's Hyena Totem came from a line that once served — or maybe just survived — something much older than any of us."

"What something?" Dendera asked.

Nyeredzi's silver eye turned, locking on Ranga's shadow. "Mukonori."

The name dropped like a stone into a dry well, echoing in silence.

Kael took a step forward. "The Devouring Hyena?"

Nyeredzi nodded. "He's been feeding here — not just on spirits, but on the memories of every Totem that ever set foot in these lands."

Ranga's knuckles were white around his spears. "Why now?" His voice was too steady, too controlled.

Nyeredzi's gaze softened. "Because you're here."

Ranga's laugh came again, sharp and bright, but his eyes were full of fear.

Kael stepped closer, his hand resting briefly on Ranga's shoulder. "You're not alone."

Ranga's grin flickered back into place, though it was more teeth than joy. "I know." But his Hyena Totem wasn't so sure.

Because somewhere just past the edges of sight, past the abandoned village and the cracked shrines, something was waiting.

Something that remembered Hyena Totems running for their lives.

Something that remembered how they tasted.

And this time, Mukonori wasn't chasing a nameless Hyena.

This time, he had a name.

The laughter rose again, this time from inside the village, inside the earth, and — though no one said it out loud — inside Ranga's own bones.

They didn't wait. The Bloodbound Circle moved forward, away from the village, but not away from the laughter.

Because Mukonori had already found them.

And Ranga knew — this time, the prey had to turn and face the hunter.

Whether he was ready or not.

End Chapter Eighteen