The Seven Faces of War

I. The Long Road Begins

Zion had walked many paths in dreams.

This was not one of them.

The land beyond Nouvo Lakay was vast—burned flat in some places, dense and whispering in others. For three months, he and his companion, a man who introduced himself only as Ogou, journeyed without titles, guards, or holy names.

They slept beneath broken trees and ancient stones. They traded herbs for food, steel for stories. And wherever they passed, rumors whispered behind them like smoke:

"The two wanderers defeated the Boar-That-Eats-Sky."

"They outdrank the Bone Tribe's elder and left him laughing."

"One of them moved like a soldier. The other moved like a storm held back by skin."

II. The First Face – Ogou Feray: The Blade

Their first true test came at the border of the Renkala Plateau, where stone beasts roamed—massive, tusked creatures shaped like broken statues, with bellies that swallowed flame.

Zion struck first—fast, wild.

But Ogou stopped him mid-swing.

"Speed without thought gets you killed. Again."

He tossed Zion into the dirt. Again.

And again.

Only after two days of bone-deep exhaustion did Zion strike low, feint high, and roll beneath the creature's belly.

"Now you're listening," Ogou grinned, firelight dancing across his scarred face.

III. The Second Face – Ogou Badagri: The Shield

In the Zikran Wetlands, a tribe refused them passage unless Zion could survive five lashes from a whip woven from storm-leather.

Zion endured three.

But after the fourth, he nearly broke.

Ogou caught him before he fell.

"You're trying to be a god again. Stand like a man."

Zion grit his teeth. Bled. Rose.

The fifth lash fell—and he did not flinch.

The chieftain gave them safe passage and a blade carved from thunderbone.

"Pain is not weakness," Ogou said that night. "It's the price we pay to become unbreakable."

IV. The Third Face – Ogou Panou: The Strategist

When a band of raiders ambushed a merchant caravan near the Hollow Spine Mountains, Zion rushed in.

"Wait," Ogou said.

Zion ignored him.

They won—but barely.

Zion took a blade to the shoulder and nearly cost a child her life.

That night, Ogou drew diagrams in the dirt. Showed him where the ambush should have been baited. How to read dust trails. How to command without roaring.

"War isn't fire. It's chess with blood."

Zion didn't sleep that night. He studied.

V. The Fourth Face – Ogou Je Wouj: The Duelist

In the ruins of Teban-Ku, they were challenged by a war champion whose blade could cut the wind.

Zion fought him under Ogou's quiet watch.

He lost. Three times.

On the fourth, Zion stopped trying to win—and started trying to understand.

He mirrored rhythm.

Learned silence.

On the fifth bout, he disarmed the warrior with one move.

"Good," Ogou said. "Now you're learning when to end a fight before it begins."

VI. The Fifth Face – Ogou Dare: The Builder

They spent a week with the Tuméni people, building homes after a fire.

No battles.

Just hammering wood, hauling water, teaching children to draw maps.

Zion asked why.

Ogou only replied:

"Not all wars are fought with weapons. Some are fought with presence."

And Zion, for the first time in weeks, laughed freely.

VII. The Sixth Face – Ogou Sévitè: The Speaker

At the edge of the Wailing Plains, a dying oracle spoke only in riddles, cursing all outsiders.

Zion almost attacked.

But Ogou knelt, whispered, and placed a single stone carved with a sun into her hands.

She wept.

And she sang of a future not yet born.

Later, Zion asked how Ogou knew what to say.

"You don't always win by speaking loudest. You win by knowing what must be heard."

VIII. The Seventh Face – Ogou Lanmò: The Unseen

In the third month, they stumbled upon a destroyed village—burned by gods.

No enemies. No glory.

Just ash.

Zion buried the bones himself.

Ogou sat nearby, silent.

"Why didn't we stop it?" Zion asked.

"Because even I can't be everywhere. And neither can you."

Zion clenched his fists. Not in rage—but in vow.

"Then I will build something that endures without me."

Ogou nodded. That was the answer he'd been waiting for.

IX. The Horizon

As the fourth moon rose, Zion's shoulders were heavier—but his stance more sure.

He no longer walked like a chief.

He walked like a soldier, a student, a storm that had learned to move like water.

Ogou grinned one last time.

"You're ready."

"For what?"

"For whoever that other fire is. For Kasa. For the world."

Zion looked out at the cracked earth stretching beyond.

And stepped forward.