Ashes and Roots

The war had ended.

But in Nouvo Lakay, the battle to rebuild had only just begun.

Where once rose temples and walls, now stood broken stone and soot. The streets were scarred, but not silent. The people moved—not in mourning, but in purpose.

The gods had returned.

The gates had been closed.

Now came the time of policy, healing, and future.

Honoring the Fallen

Zion stood in the center of the Grand Circle, flanked by the five priestesses and the remaining generals. Around them gathered warriors, artisans, farmers, and survivors from dozens of scattered tribes—some newly arrived, some clinging to what little they had left.

Zion raised his voice.

"We did not fight for survival alone. We fought for something greater."

He turned to a line of children—orphans of the battle.

"We owe the fallen more than fire and song. We owe them protection for those they left behind."

That day, a new decree passed:

✦ Every child of a fallen warrior would be raised by the tribe as blood.

✦ Every partner, every elder left behind, would be housed and cared for, not as burden—but as honor-bearers.

✦ And those warriors with no kin left would have shrines built in their name, their stories etched into the walls of the Great Hall.

The End of the Tribal Council

Ajima was gone. His dreams of control and division had died with the rift.

Zion, before all, abolished the old tribal council.

✦ In its place, a Circle of Hands would form—made of priestesses, artisans, warriors, and healers.

✦ Decisions would now rise from the people—not be handed down by bloodlines or inherited names.

It was not democracy as the world knew it, but something older. Something earned.

A tribe led by merit and service, not ambition.

Opening the Gates

The gates of Nouvo Lakay, long closed to outsiders, opened wide.

From across Bassoun, scattered tribes came—those whose villages had been destroyed by the beasts, those who had wandered too long without a home. Zion welcomed them with food, tents, and fire.

✦ No longer would Nouvo Lakay stand alone.

✦ It would become a sanctuary, a gathering of peoples, united not by birth but by survival and shared blood on the battlefield.

It was not easy. There were tensions, mistrust. But slowly, hope took root.

A New Growth

That season came to be called The Rooting.

The tribe expanded beyond the river. New homes were built with the help of ogoun-trained builders. Children from different tongues learned the songs of Papa Legba. Soldiers from foreign hills trained alongside the warriors of Nouvo Lakay.

The priestesses began holding open rites, teaching newcomers how to speak with the gods, how to honor the land, and how to protect it.

And Zion?

He planted a single tree on the battlefield where Ejimo died.

Not to mark death.

But to mark where something new began