(FLASHBACK) ARORAE: CHRONICLE OF THE DUSK
Four massive waa rested on the limestone grit, their double-hulled architecture secured by high-tension sennit. Woven pandanus sails expanded like proud-fiber-ribcages against the cooling air.
The water performed a serrated-hydraulic-rhythm with a muffled-suction-lock, every swell was a liquid-collision against the vitreous-ironwood hulls, producing a low-frequency-slap that echoed like a heartbeat against the shore.
The afternoon sun was a diffused-gold-filter, casting elongated, soft-geometric-shadows across the palm trees and limestone grit.
Scanning the Maneaba's perimeter, Pounded-Barkcloth Scrolls (Tapa) vibrated in the trade winds. The dyes, Striking Charcoal, Oxidized-Sienna, and Oceanic-Cyan, rendered the Figures with Lacerating-Clarity,
THE COCONUT SENTINEL. Bottom anchor (Right): Its face was a Spherical-Shell-Void, a hollowed-out charcoal circle that suggests a Deep-Socket-Void. Its hand on his thigh is rendered with High-Compression-Lines, showing the tension of his coconut-fiber armor. The Giant, advanced harpoon was a Serrated-Sting of black ink, placed on its shoulder with Lacerating-Clarity.
THE KINETIC SCALPEL. Bottom anchor (Left):
it was a Sinuous-Vertical-Needle. Its Serene-Stance was depicted with a single, unbroken line of charcoal, a Luminous-Structural-Precision. Its outstretched arm didn't have fingers, it ended in a Tapered-Point, suggesting it's a tool of pure intent.
THE MONOLITH OF BLADES. Mid-Strata (Left): it was a Mosaic-of-Serrated-Leaved-Blades. The fruit basket it handed downward was rendered in Oxidized-Sienna, but the fruit inside looked like Crystalline-Geodes, impossible geometry that hinted at her Meta-chemistry. Her form was distorted, with vines that looked like Electrical-Circuitry wrapping around her limbs.
THE VITREOUS SHROUD. Mid-Strata (Right): It was a Liquid-Collision of swirling Oceanic-Cyan (White Lime (Te Burua) and charcoal. Its hands meeting created a Hydraulic-Symmetry. The two small Canoes at its sides were tiny, Forensic-Silhouettes that looked fragile against its massive, watery frame.
THE SKY-GRIP ENTROPY. Atmospheric-Ceiling: It didn't stand, it Enveloped. A Fractal-Mess of charcoal smoke, It lacked a solid border, looking like a Smear-of-Entropy across the top of the Tapa. The Features were Elongated-Nails, rendered as Violent-Electrical-Zig-Zags that stretched out to the edges of the scroll like a Mechanical-Grip on the sky. The eyes were two Spikes of Crackling-Red Ochre (Te Atia).
Only the gentle murmur of conversation and laughter were shared in the Maneaba.
(Woman Voiceover): "You made this? I love it."
(Man Voiceover, Authoritative): "Hey everyone!"
The man's hands extended into the sky, raising his coconut cup (Te Ipu). "Okay! Everyone everyone? Can I have your attention?"
The community formed symmetrical-clusters, consuming K Karewe from high-luster-ipu. The liquid movement was sluggish, consumed in measured-intervals.
Tako leaned against a high-horizontal-beam.
Beside him were Teniko and Rania.
Rania's appearance was defined by sienna-toned skin and a sharp-symmetric-jawline. Her hair was a tight-pulled-coil anchored by a frangipani.
Tako pulled out a Te-Iri folded like a scroll, smiling with a mischievous-mouth-flare.
Teniko's eyes widened. She held a hand to her chest and bit her lips, instantly followed by a soft punch to Tako's arm.
Rania leaned forward a bit, her copper-toned face creasing as she chuckled.
"Ah. Ah. Ah." he laughed, chuckled quietly, and held his arm afterwards. "What?"
The Chief of Arorae was a sinuous-vertical-needle of seasoned heartwood at the North Pillar, his silhouette framed by the dark-vitreous-timber. His skin, a deeply-weathered-sienna, possessing a high-luster-finish, like cured leather vacuum-sealed over a steel-alloy skeleton.
Tenia and Maluma sat in a high-resolution-counterpoint on the eastern mats. Between them and the Chief lied a vast, empty square of glistening-pandanus-fiber.
A woman at the side gestured to the Chief. He turned his head, leaning in, and nodded quickly. He turned his head again, and raised his cup once again.
Everyone snapped their attention towards him, fully focused like limestone-statues.
He continued with a smile:
"Thank you all for your time. As you all know, I'm very glad you all gathered here today,"
He turned around fleetingly to the people, Chief Maluma and Tenia behind him, gesturing with their cup. "I mean, we are glad you all came here in Arorae."
The communion assented in a soft smile.
The Chief's expression dropped. His vitreous-clarity eyes locked onto the crowd, searching every face with forensic-precision.
"This is a big Cultural moment for us all. For years we were divided by very, very difficult circumstances. Mostly by unknown entities attacking our homes, forcing us to voyage time and again to survive. Until, we found you all, an unharmed and perfectly peaceful civilization."
The people's expressions focused intently, their chins dipping in a synchronized-grave-tilt.
"And the worst part is, our Own people were and still are also missing, wherever they may be. We don't why or how. Did we misunderstood our ancestors? did the spirits abandon us and left our fate into the hands of Te Anti?"
He gave a tense-radial-shrug.
"One thing's known, we were never more in danger by these looming threats. We can only hope the Le Vaifana can provide us the resources and guidance we need. Afterall, they are the spirit's messengers with a gift for Sagastic Wisdom beyond our understanding. We are forever in their depth."
He raised his cup. "Thank you very much."
Everyone clapped their hands, a rhythmic-wall-of-sound.
The Chief made a quick, half bow, touching his chest in a smile.
Tako's hands were crossed, his brow tense as he looked at Teniko.
Her weathered-golden skin looked pale. She turned her head to the side and shifted her weight. Her entire chest deflated-inward, letting out a breath that was more soundless than a sigh
The night was a vellum-thin-shroud of indigo, punctured by a crystalline-fractal of stars. They burned with a static-neon-coldness, ancient light performing a forensic-mapping of the islands below.
The breeze was a salt-cured-lament, moving through the palm fronds with the sound of shattering-silk.
A man was seated on a Te-Kabitie. His forehead furrowed as his palm struck the wood with a dull-hydraulic-thud to set the meter.
(Verse 1 - Solo, Guttural-Soul)
"My coral heart, it beats for you..."
The elders around him performed a synchronized-breathe-in, a collective lungs-expansion that created a social-vacuum.
(The Elders: Sssss-Hhhhhh-UUUUHT)
The sound was a cold-friction-draw, the acoustic equivalent of salt being rubbed into a fresh wound.
(The Soloist: Tremolo-Soul-Resonance)
"Oh!, I-Kiribati, free and sunlit day..."
His voice was thin—vellum-thin—as if the wind might snap it.
"Love is the tide that guides my way."
(The Elders: Krr-ck...)
A rhythmic creak of ancient bones and ironwood.
"From Beru to Onotoa's shore, Freedom's the air we're breathing for!"
It sounded like the ocean retreating over crushed limestone, a sharp, cold friction of air against the back of forty throats.
Tako stood outside the thatch structure, speaking with a man defined by a blonde-bleached-curtain, shielding his eyes in a deep-socket-void.
Tako gave a quick observant look around him, but then...
Stopped in his tracks, arms crossed. Pulse-rate-spike. He saw her. Her hazel-amber eyes locked into his.
(The Soloist's voice, a frail-silver-needle threading through the silence.)
"They say the world has iron laws..."
The sound was vellum-thin, vibrating with acoustic-fragility.
"But we live by the coconut palms' applause..."
(The Elders: Sssss-Hhhhhh-UUUUHT)
The collective intake of breath was the sound of tectonic-friction.
"We trade no gold for a kiss so sweet..."
A soft lip-curl-smile tucked at her lips before she looked away. The song carried a heavy-melancholic-soul.
"Our joy is found where the sand and sea meet."
Tako turned in front of him, a faint smile showing on the edge of his lips.
(Guy, background muffled voiceover): "What would we do if these threats know about Banaba? They would drive us from our home aswell."
(Tako?) The guy beside him tapped his shoulder.
Tako snapped back, head performing a shrug-snap. "what? yeah, yeah. It's crazy. It would certaintly be a bad scenario."
(Bridge )
"The old ones taught us, whisper-low,
That only love can make the spirit grow…
And only freedom lets the bright light shine…"
The young man she spoke to walked away.
She crossed the frame.
Tako's eyes were vacuum-sealed shut for a fleeting moment when he saw her form disappear into a corner. His lips were a tight-sealed-line. He tapped his arms.
"Hold on for a minute. I'll be right back."
He moved away, catching her at the back. The serrated-edges of the palm-frond shadows cut across the orange light onto their skin like ink-black-gaps. They stood in symmetrical-opposition.
"H—hi."
She turned around. "Hi there."
Tako's gaze mapped her appearance.
Her skin was smooth as polished wood and glowing in the hazy gold of the torch lights. Her hair was pulled back into a high-tension-coil, exposing a sharp-symmetric-jawline and hazel eyes that fixed into his with a vitreous-clarity.
She was draped in a high-compression-weave of dried pandanus husk, the diagonal cross-hatched-ribcage of her bodice. Over her shoulder ran a serrated-leaf-array of vibrant green coconut fronds, layered with blade-like-precision.
Tako's posture stood rigid-structural, lost in her eyes.
A moment of silence hung between them, a crystalline-stasis.
The girl's eyes fleetingly turned to the side with a smile, not a happy smile, but one of awkward-lenticular friction. She tilted her head to one side.
"Hello? you were saying?"
Tako forced a faint smile, his palms performing a clench-and-release-protocol. He shook his head. His thumb brushed his palm, a nervous-serrated-tick that betrayed his practiced calm.
—Come on, Tako! Say something. You look like a damn fool!—
Her gaze lingered too long, then darted away as if burned by a high-resolution glare.
He blinked slower than usual, buying time for courage.
"Sorry. I'm sorry. I just froze, because you are so beautiful."
The girl touched her chest, her fingers like translucent-cinders. "Aww, thank you."
Tako extended his arm, a heavy-linear-gesture. "My name is Tako by the way."
The girl shook his hand. The contact flared with brine-and-jasmine. "I'm Rani. Nice to meet you, Tako."
Another moment of silence passed between them, a liturgy-of-stares. Tako gestured around him with a weak chuckle.
"Well, it.. it's a great party."
Rani took a glance around her—a sweeping-tactical-scan. "yeah, it is. I saw you dancing."
"Oh, yeah, yeah. It's with my mom...I was dancing with her."
Rani tilted her head, her smile a flickering-flame. "Oh. It seemed like you had a lot of fun."
He chuckled, nodded. "Yeah, I did. It was fun." He paused for a second, looked down, then back to her. "Now, tell me a bit about yourself."
Rani placed a hand over her mouth, covering a smile still perceptible through her amber-gaze. "Wow. Where to start?"
"Well, anything, obviously. Arorae life, future plans?"
Rani lifted her head higher, her eyes narrowing into a determined-beam, lips sealed. " Umm... Well, first off, my life here is making Riri ni buki skirts."
"What is that?"
"Riri ni buki are dance skirts. It is made for dancing. We make it from young coconut leaves that are boiled first, then dried, and then woven with large loops onto the waistband."
Tako's hands were crossed, a slow nod following the technical-logic. " Uh. Wow. Interesting. That sounds incredibly labor-intensive."
Rani raised a brow, hand on her waist in a symmetry-of-defiance. "Wait, your village doesn't do that?"
"No, we don't. That's really specific and beautiful. It sounds like a lot of dedication goes into one."
"Yeah, it does, but I mostly love doing it. It takes skill and passion to excel in it, you know?"
Tako nods. "True."
"But...", she looked to the side, her eyes suffering a crystalline-fracture. "I want to do keep doing that for a living. It's nice to have something truly important. It's like my dad always said: 'Forcing the harvest invites ill luck; earning the height yields enduring grace.'
Tako's eyes broaden. "Wow. Your dad must be a real philosophist."
A ghost-shadow passed her eyes, the smell of scorched-jasmine hitting the air. "He's... dead."
Tako remained silent, the atmosphere turning sour-and-metallic. "Oh. I didn't know. I'm So sorry for your loss."
"No, it's okay. Being sorry for a dead loved one is kinda crazy talk, right?" she chuckled weakly, a fragile-vibration.
Tako's voice carried a calmed-forensic-edge. "I guess so. It must've been hard going through such a state."
Rani dismissed with a lazy-lenticular-gesture. "It's nothing big. That was two years ago." She let out a weary-atmospheric-sigh. "Anyway, what about you? What's your story?"
Tako rubbed the back of his head with a smile. "Well, I'm a fisherman."
Rani smiles almost mockingly, a staccato-slight. "That's it? aren't they all?"
Tako protested, hand to his chest. "No, I'm a professional fisherman. That's a lot greater than a random one."
Rani clicked her teeth. "Huh. Is that so? Well i guess you haven't met the competitors here. They would like to see how you hold up."
He smiled arrogantly. "I don't do competitions. My Status is Proven everyday already."
She giggled, pointing a finger like a needle-of-light. "See? I knew you were lying. You're afraid."
"No, I'm not afraid."
"Yes, you are. You are." She pointed at his uncontained-chuckle.
He bowed his head, hands up in placating-symmetry. "Alright,you caught me. You can condemn me, spirit of judging."
Rani laughed lightly, tapping her arm. "Oh, i'm judging you, huh? How original."
The conversation turned muffled against the music.
(The soloist's voice snapped into a luminous-falsetto.)
(The Elders: Sssss-Hhhhhh-UUUUHT)
This time, the intake was a buoyant-atmospheric-lift. The frequency vibrated against the vitreous-ironwood pillars, a crystalline-ring.
The voices of the youth joined in a soft-acoustic-layering.
"Freedom's the air we're breathing for!"
The final note was abruptly shattered by the violent, mechanical impact of a hundred calloused palms striking in unison, a thunderous, rhythmic detonation that claimed the air.
(PRESENT)
Wedged low, two broad backs of deep-mahogany texture were dominating the foreground.
Their skin were slick with a thin film of salt-sweat that caught the orange torchlight like wet oil. Their arms moved in a violent arc. The Krak-Krak-Krak of their palms.
In the middle the limestone-dust floor, the four brothers sat as small-static-silhouettes.
Directly across the void was Chief Maluma. He looked like a colossus, his head nearly lost in the indigo-black shadows of the rafters, but his scarred chest illuminated a hard, volcanic orange, his eyes tracking the people.
Then, the rhythm was murdered.
A sound tore through the air from the darkness behind. It was a Shre-EEE-Aak, a scream with a serrated, shark-toothed edge.
The two broad backs in front jolted as if struck by a heavy stone. Their arms froze mid-swing, muscles locking into hard, twitching knots.
Immediately, a low-frequency rumble followed, the Thud-Thud-Thud of a hundred feet striking the earth outside.
Kanka's body performed a snap-lock. His head jerked, darting between the confused faces of the villagers and the ink-black void beyond the pillars.
Beside him, Tambo remained a heavy-monolith. His face remained an opaque-mask, but his eyes developed a pin-point-intensity.
Beyond the clearing, the darkness of the breadfruit groves began to vibrate. It was a mass-disruption.
Shapes began to tear through the structural-shadows of the trees.
The white limestone paths were eclipsed by the frantic, heavy impact of a hundred bare feet, a rhythmic Thump-Grrit, Thump-Grrit.
The yells were no longer distant.
They had become a wall of high-frequency shrieks and guttural roars. In a frantic, uncoordinated sprawl, shoulders caught the orange spill of the torches before disappearing into the grit.
Simultaneously, the masses from the groves hit the threshold.
The light felt heavy, like deep water pressing against the skin. The orange flicker of the Maneaba no longer danced, they stood like jagged, violent wounds in the encroaching ink, smelling of scorched sap and the sour, steel-astringent of a storm that refused to break.
Tako and the man with the long, matted hair lunged into the center of the square. Their feet struck the limestone with a Flap-thud, Flap-thud.
"Guys. Look what we found beneath Bako's corpse," the guy's voice carried a jagged, breathless edge.
The people contracted. A hundred bodies moved in unison, the Sshhh-grrit of their feet on the sand creating a tightening ring.
The air became a thick, airless shroud.
The long-haired man hoisted the Gata club. "They've been lying to us all this time," he rasped, the sound like dry coral grinding against a hull. "They killed Bako."
The reaction was a shattered-chord of human shock. From the throats of the council came a collective Sssss-aaa of indrawn breath, followed by a low-guttural groan.
The Bald Sentinel carved a path through the mass, his movement a fluid, silent cut. His face was a mask of hard skepticism, his copper-green eyes widening.
Chief Maluma broke the perimeter, his mountainous frame displacing the air. The ground suffered a thump-lock under his stride as he lunged into the center.
"What is going here?!" he boomed.
"We found this weapon," the long-haired man stated, his fingers gripping the wood. "A Fijian weapon was dug inside the grave. This was a calculated murder."
Maluma's gaze didn't just move; it performed a heavy-pivot, swinging away from the club to lock onto the four Fijian men.
The social-void between the locals and the strangers expanded instantly; the villagers recoiled with snap-reflexes. Maluma's scars on his cheeks turned into dark, shadowed canyons.
"Tell me what he's talking about?"
The brothers darted their heads in a frantic, wide-eyed scan. Tantei held his hands up, his palms white and trembling. He pointed a shivering finger at the weapon.
"We had nothing to do with any of this, we swear!" his voice was a thin, vibrating frequency. "We had nothing to do with his death. We just came here to stay for a few days and recover. Please, please. We're telling you the truth."
Maluma didn't listen. He performed a wide, violent arm-wave, his muscles bulging like pressurized hydraulic lines.
"GET THE WEAPONS!"
Tako stood beside the long-haired guy, his heart performing a sub-low tremor. The air on his tongue felt like sandpaper, dry, bitter, and tasting of oxidizing iron. He felt the volcanic heat radiating off Maluma's skin.
A high-kinetic-blur took hold of the square.
Tantei: "Don't do this!" he pleaded.
Villager 1: "You will die bastards!!"
Tambo: "We're innocent," the large man stated.
Villager 2: "LIAR!!"
Maluma leaned in, placing a thick, calloused finger to his temple, a linear focus of madness. "Is something sick in your brains?!" he roared.
Konto's face was a wet mask of salt-tears and grit. "Please don't kill us. We seriously had nothing to do with this. Someone framed us."
Kanka stared at the Chief, his eyes reflecting the orange torches like two burning pits of sulfur. "We would never murder anybody without a reason. Have mercy on us, please Chief."
Maluma's face cracked into a snarl. "So you need a reason? I will peel away your skin the same way, just watch! Get me the weapons, hurry the hell up!"
Konto collapsed, his forehead striking the limestone with a dull-thud. "Please. I'm still young. Someone tried to frame us, please. Aaah."
Through the narrow gaps of shifting legs, in the center, the four brothers were huddled and defensive. The dark textures of the villagers' backs closed in, blotting out the flickering light.
The air in the grove was a static-weight, smelling of toasted coconut husks and crab-and-fish soup. The fire, perched on the platform, casts a jittery glow that turned the pandanus leaves into jagged-gold-serrated edges.
Rania stood within this safe-zone, the firelight dancing in her eyes as she ate. The sound of her chewing was a crisp-snap.
"Wait, who was Bako again?"
Teniko did not break her focus. Her hands moved with precision, scooping and pouring. "Seriously Rania? He was Tenia's father."
Rania's finger pointed in an understanding-rhythm. "Oh, yeah. I forgot. I just seem to forget faces, maybe that's why."
"Or maybe you should take a walk more often," Teniko countered. Her voice was a maternal-anchor. "It could also help."
Rania hunched her shoulders. "Yes, Mom, but... I'm not a very good social person. I'm just... inept. It's very hard."
Teniko shot her a brief-glance. "And it's gonna stay difficult if you don't try."
Rania went quiet. "Fair point... Do you think we will soon be safe again?"
"From the killer?" Teniko's voice dropped. "I'm afraid not if they still run free. But if we do find them, then everything will be okay again."
Rania paused. "You don't know who might have done this or why, though? Killing someone here is super rare. Why would anyone kill anyone?"
Teniko straightened her spine. She rested one hand on her hip. "I have no idea. It could most likely be a personal matter. Betrayal of a past situation? Unresolved anger between each other?"
"But the killer cannot get away for long, can they?"
Teniko stepped closer, extending an arm. "Look around you. Even if they were to kill more people, where do you think they would go? We live on a very small island, where eventually everyone knows everyone."
"So..." Rania's voice was small. "You're saying if they keep taking more lives, we would eventually know."
"Yeah," Teniko replied, her tone final. "That's about much it."
"Then... wow. This is terrifying."
"It would take a while before that happens," Teniko said. "But the killer or... killers would have to be really clever to get away with it. But hey, cheer up. Who knows. Justice prevails in unexpected ways."
She walked past Rania. "Get cleaned up," she commanded.
Teniko turned, her movements possessing a sudden, heavy-finality. As she walked away, her footsteps produced a rhythmic thud-thud against the packed earth. She took a sharp turn, disappearing around the corner.
Rania remained pinned to her spot beside the fire. She stood frozen, the half-eaten pieces of coconut still clutched in her hand. Her gaze was fixed on the empty space.
From the rooftop, the individual voices were no longer human, they were serrated-edges cutting through the smoke.
"We will crush you filthy rags!"
"You deserve to die!"
"We will bash your heads!"
The chorus of insults created a sonic-dome over the square.
The flesh on Maluma's arm was a topography of hardened, corded welts.
The handle of the stingray barb dagger vanished into his tanned-hide fist.
Encircling the brothers, the villagers were a lacerating-perimeter. Each one held serrated-sting, lined weapons with tiger shark teeth that glimmered with a vitreous-sharpness, held high-vertical-ready.
Tambo looked upward, his speech a thick-guttural-strain. "We're so sorry if you think we killed him, but please... consider your decision."
Tantei's expression was a jagged-contrast, his stare pierces Maluma with a looming-malice.
Konto, moisture on his cheeks dried, became a hollow-echo. "We will give you anything you want, then. Take our Drua, and everything in it."
"I don't care about your stupid Drua," Maluma growled, his throat producing a stone-on-stone-friction. "All I care about is to extinguish the rot you brought onto my home. You spread a plague of fear for a lifetime, just for your own cruelty, and here you are begging for mercy. Pathetic."
He thrusts the blade toward the sky. "WE END THEM."
The mob's voices reached a screeching-peak. At the fringe, Tako was caught in a pity-lock. His pupils perform a frantic-oscillation.
The four brothers screwed their eyes shut until the lids were etched with white-creased-stress. Behind them, a villager hoisted the Teunenei, a long, slender shark-tooth harpoon, into a high-apex-stance.
Then, Kanka's voice tore through the pressurized-stasis.
"We're from Viti Levu! Alright? We are from Viti Levu. We were forced to exile ourselves from our home just to safe our sister."
The silence that followed was a vacuum-lock.
The descending-weight of the villager's club stalled mid-air, the wood trembling.
Maluma's face shifted. His eyes performed a slow-macro-assessment of Kanka's features.
"And where is this sister you speak of?"
Kanka's throat performed a heavy click. "…. She's dead. We can tell you everything, the truth. We are not what you think we are."
Maluma loomed. His massive frame eclipsed the light. "Your tragic stories won't save you, Kanka. It won't change what you've done to Bako."
Kanka's chin dipped. "But at least you know that we were just trying to survive, and that we aren't bad guys."
Maluma's eyes remained fixed-anger-orbits, but his jaw revealed a glint of calculating-patience. "Go on."
Kanka pivoted his head forward. His chest expanded in a pressurized-inhale. He opened his mouth.
RIRI NI BUKI (THE WHISPER OF THE ANCESTORS)
The earth has tasted the truth.
The sea has swallowed the lies.
Those who sleep beneath the coral
Still whisper when the wind bends low.
They say —
"Do not beg the spirits for favor."
"Do not touch the light that listens."
For the Spider God weaved two worlds —
One of flesh, One of flame
And between them, only silence was meant to stand.
But man broke the silence.
He called upon the stars, and they answered.
He took the voice of thunder and wore it like a crown.
Then the seas turned black.
The fish fled.
The moon refused its dance.
And the spirits, once good and golden,
Burned red with hunger.
Now they linger in the places between names,
In the hush after the drum stops,
In the breath before a scream.
Hear them.
Riri Ni Buki.
The whisper of the ancestors.
The promise of the earth.
The curse of the living.
The island doesn't forget your face.
The most dangerous curse is not the one you bring with you, but the one already waiting for you.