The chief's call for the awakening rite spread through the village like wildfire. By the time dusk fell, every family had gathered around the central fire. Smoke drifted through the air, carrying the sharp tang of pine and resin. The carved stag totem loomed at the center of it all, its antlers blackened by age and smoke, casting jagged shadows across the circle of watching eyes.
The youths were called forward. Each would shed blood at the totem and seek the stag's blessing. Only then would they be recognized as warriors, fit to defend the Vale. And when the trials came, only those who bore the mark of awakening would be sent into the Ashwood depths.
A murmur rippled through the villagers. Some faces held pride, others worry. The memory of raider blades still lingered, and the absence of the tribe's totem warriors weighed heavily. Many whispered about it in half-hidden tones. "Had the stag abandoned them?" "Why did the warriors not stand with us?" None dared ask the chief outright, but the questions lingered like smoke.
Dagan stood tall among the boys, smirking as though the rite had already marked him chosen. His companions echoed his confidence, each word sharpened with disdain for Kael. "The stag will ignore him," one said, loud enough for Kael to hear. "He has no true blood."
Kael remained silent, but the words settled in him like embers. Outwardly, he seemed unbothered, yet his mind turned steadily, as it always did. Dagan thrived on the approval of others, blind to the truth that strength was not measured in cheers.
Near the fire, Kael noticed Haron, the healer, speaking softly with an elder. The man's voice was a low rumble, but Kael caught fragments. "…he proved himself with the salve… let it pass… the boy has use."
Kael's lips curved slightly knowingly. Haron would let his presence at the rite go unchallenged. His earlier work had earned him just enough favor to shield him for now. Another small piece placed upon the board.
The chief raised his staff, the firelight painting his face in harsh relief.
"Tomorrow, we shed blood before the stag. "
"Tomorrow, the spirit of the Vale will decide who among you may stand as warriors."
The crowd cheered, though not all voices carried strength. Kael's gaze lingered on the totem's jagged silhouette. The stag might deny him, yet he felt no fear. What stirred inside him was older than this wood and older than the Vale.
The others prayed for recognition. Kael prepared for revelation.