Wrath of Nature
V. The Rage Beneath the Waves
Far from Nouvo Lakay, in the heart of the endless ocean,
where storms rarely touch and the skies sing with gentle winds,
lay an island untouched by time —
Tāmò, the Isle of the Great Shell.
The people of Tāmò lived in quiet rhythm with nature.
Their homes were built into coral cliffs, their songs drawn from the tides, and their god…
was a giant turtle of unimaginable age and wisdom,
known only as Grandfather Kalonji.
His back bore runes older than the sun.
His breath moved tides.
His silence was peace itself.
When the Lwa and fire gods bickered and battled, Kalonji remained apart.
He kept his people safe, and they never knew war.
Until today.
VI. Rift Above the Shell
At noon, as the sun stood high, the sky split open.
A jagged wound above the ocean.
The water trembled — not from wind or tide — but from something… wrong.
From the rift descended bone-skinned leviathans,
and horned beasts wreathed in smoke,
howling creatures of nightmare that should not swim — but did.
The beasts fell upon the waters like a curse.
And for the first time in centuries, Tāmò bled.
But the people of the island did not break.
Their warriors rose from the sea.
Their children fought beside elders.
Their chants summoned the breath of Kalonji, who awoke from his slumber in the deep.
The ocean heaved.
The sky cracked.
And from below, a mountain of shell and green eyes rose, shaking the sea itself.
VII. Kalonji's Rage
Kalonji did not scream.
He did not roar.
He breathed, and the world trembled.
He saw what came through the sky.
He saw what had been loosed upon his people.
And he remembered — not just the past, but the truth of the world before Zion, before Kasa, before the Lwa.
He had been silent too long.
At the Council of the Gods, still unfolding within the transformed Temple,
a hunched figure appeared—old, green-scaled, his back curved like a hill.
Cracks in his shell glowed with ocean light.
Some laughed.
Until they saw his eyes.
Grandfather Kalonji, older than bone, looked upon the gathered gods and growled:
"You have played at power, fought with fire and ash…
But now you've torn open what should never wake.
The world will drown — and I will not sit still again."
And with one motion, he smashed his cane into the ground.
A new rift opened — not in the sky, but in the floor of the temple,
and saltwater surged forth, laced with coral, memories, and judgment.
A path had been made — not for war…
But for Nature's wrath.