The sun barely crept past the tree line when Ben stood at the border between Ikanbi and the newcomers' settlement. The air was sharp, as if even the wind knew something was coming. His arms were crossed over his chest, posture still but alert. No words came from the god. No signs. Only silence and the heaviness of anticipation.
No one left.
They couldn't.
The Red-Clawed Tribe was near—too near. Their scouts had already been spotted by Mala's team, circling like carrion birds. It was no longer safe to roam the jungle, not for food, not for clarity, not even for answers.
Ben had gathered the leaders the night before. "No one steps past the river until this passes," he told them. "Anyone who does, does it alone. I won't send rescue." His voice carried the weight of command—simple, final. No arguments came.
Now, they waited.
Within Ikanbi, the tension hung thick. Spears were sharpened in silence. Walls of mud, woven grass, and stone rose faster than ever before. Fires for cooking still burned, but no sparks came from the sacred fire pits. Not even Ben's.
Those connected to Twa Milhoms remained cold.
Their god said nothing.
Ben hadn't visited the Trial Chamber. He didn't need to. His bond with Twa Milhoms was deeper than words or rituals. The cold pits, once pulsing with invisible warmth, had gone still after the newcomers arrived. Ben hadn't asked why. He already knew—this was his burden now.
Inside the newcomers' camp—still referred to by Ikanbi's people as the "shadow-ring"—Enru moved among his own. His presence was a thread of order in the chaos of sudden refuge. He had formed his own temporary ranks: elders tended the children, ring warriors watched the perimeter, and workers helped reinforce the new shelters. They dared not ask to go closer to Ikanbi.
They weren't trusted yet.
And the fire pits… they had none.
Every ring warrior among them—marked by a slain god—was unconnected to the fire that shaped Ikanbi. Ben had made it clear. "If you are not part of this fire, you stand outside it."
Still, some among them prayed.
Some walked quietly toward the edge of the Trial Chamber clearing and left offerings: a folded root, a handmade cloth, a tooth from a beast. Primitive tokens for a god who had not yet acknowledged their presence.
Back in the heart of Ikanbi, the militia trained in rotating shifts. Three groups drilled day and night, switching positions on Ben's orders. The air rang with grunts, footfalls, the snap of wooden weapons clashing.
Kael, Mala, and Jaron pushed their troops harder than before. The new recruits—some barely warriors—were forced to adapt or fall behind.
Druel oversaw fortification repairs with a frown deeper than the trenches he was carving.
Boji refused to slow production on fish storage.
Sema rang the bamboo bell with consistent rhythm after each training session, feeding the warriors balanced meals she'd learned under Twa Milhoms' guidance. Some of the soldiers were beginning to show changes in their bodies—leaner, faster, more focused. Discipline was becoming a second skin.
No one laughed.
No one wandered.
They all waited.
Even the sky held still—clouds unmoving, air thick with the scent of sweat and fireless stone.
Ben stood at the edge of the settlement long after nightfall, watching the darkness beyond the trees. Somewhere in that blackness, the Red-Clawed Tribe waited too. Watching. Planning.
He didn't whisper prayers. He didn't call to Twa Milhoms.
He simply stood.
And the silence was enough.
The wind shifted slightly.
Only slightly—but enough for Ben to narrow his eyes.
He heard it. Not a sound, not exactly. A rhythm. A broken cadence beyond the trees. Movement disguised as stillness.
"Scouts," he murmured.
Kael approached behind him, spear resting across his shoulder, chest still slick with sweat from the last drill. "You felt it too?" he asked.
Ben nodded. "They're close. Not attacking. Just watching."
Mala joined them next, her face streaked with dirt and cold determination. "Same pattern as before. One to the west, two to the north slope. They're marking the land. Like they're deciding if it's worth the effort."
Ben's jaw tightened. "It is."
Jaron arrived moments later with Enru in tow. The former leader of the newcomers moved with quiet strength. He hadn't asked for authority, but he carried it well.
"They haven't seen us yet," Enru said. "But they'll come. That tribe didn't wipe out half our people to leave witnesses behind."
Ben studied the darkness again. "Then we don't wait."
He turned to Kael, Mala, and Jaron. "Triple shifts. Increase patrols. Pull any scouts in. If they enter our border, we strike—but we don't chase. I don't want a war out in the trees. We fight here. On our terms."
Enru stepped forward. "Let me put my warriors on the edge, too."
Ben looked at him a long moment, then nodded. "You'll form the first buffer line—but you answer to Jaron until I say otherwise."
Enru didn't flinch. "Understood."
Ben walked down the slope, his voice low and firm. "From now until further notice, no one leaves either camp. No hunting. No wandering. No night watches alone. If it's not inside our circle, it's the enemy."
Kael cracked his neck. "Should we prepare the Trial Chamber for emergency rites?"
Ben shook his head. "No trials. No distractions. This is about survival. Until the threat is gone, everything else waits."
That night, Ben didn't sleep.
He stood by the northern edge of Ikanbi, spear in hand, watching the bamboo sway in silence. Across the clearing, fires burned low in the shadow-ring camp. Enru's men sharpened blades and prepared in silence.
No words from Twa Milhoms. No glowing pits. Just the whisper of danger in the wind.
Somewhere beyond the forest, the Red-Clawed Tribe gathered.
The first test of Ikanbi's unity had arrived.
And Ben would meet it face to face.
Dawn broke slowly.
The sky above Ikanbi bled from charcoal to deep amber, the first rays crawling over the treetops like hesitant fingers. But sleep had not visited most that night.
Ben stood exactly where he had been hours ago, unmoving. His spear now planted in the ground beside him, one hand resting on its shaft. His eyes didn't stray from the horizon.
Behind him, the tribe stirred with restrained tension.
The militia—his warriors—moved through their warmups with heavy limbs but sharper minds. Every movement was crisper now, less about routine and more about readiness. The pushups, the stances, the runs—no longer exercises, but reminders of breath and life.
Kael stood nearby, watching the perimeter. His jaw was tight, and he hadn't spoken much since the patrols confirmed the Red-Clawed scouts had vanished deeper into the woods just before dawn.
"They'll come when the fog is thickest," he muttered. "That's how they prefer it."
Ben nodded. "They like the confusion."
From the west clearing, Enru approached with a quiet stride. His warriors stood behind him, evenly spaced, already armored in what scraps they'd salvaged from their ruined past. None had spoken of Eratu again, not even in whispers. Their god was gone—but their eyes still held fire.
"We're ready to die," Enru said plainly. "But we'd rather live for something."
Ben's expression didn't change. "Then don't die today. Not one of you."
Enru raised an eyebrow. "You planning to stop death?"
Ben didn't answer.
But the way the wind shifted behind him—the way every animal in the woods had gone quiet—gave the feeling that maybe, just maybe, someone else was listening.
Mala appeared next, covered in leaves and dirt. Her patrol had been the furthest out.
"They're testing the outer paths," she said. "I saw a small group trailing game, walking barefoot, using creek beds to hide their tracks. Seasoned."
"Numbers?" Ben asked.
"Too many for a scout party. Not enough for an all-out siege. They're feeling us out."
Ben turned to his commanders, his voice low but firm. "Then make sure what they feel is fire and stone."
He lifted his hand and pointed toward the Trial Chamber, where the stone doors stood silent, unmoved since the last warrior entered.
"No trials. But they will learn that we kneel only for wisdom—not for mercy."
Kael smirked. "We make our stand here, then."
Ben nodded.
"We are Ikanbi."