The grove breathed in a rhythm of orange embers and ancient shadows.
As the scent of copper and static began to override the familiar smell of charcoal, a premonition of violence took root, threatening to tear the fabric of their reality asunder.
The masses followed the brothers away from the heat of the fire toward the gloom of the palms.
The sound was not made of distinct words, but of hissing sibilants and glottal stops,
A sharp, rhythmic Tch-tch-tch followed by a low, buzzing hiss. | The young men and the defensive warriors who still watch the brothers' hands. |
A soft, melodic Aia... aia...—a long, drawn-out vowel that sounds like a sigh. | The older women, the matriarchs who see the brothers' ribs and think of their own lost sons. |
A rapid-fire, clicking Ke-ke-ke—the sound of teeth meeting or quick, shallow breaths. | The children and the teenagers, spooked by the appearance of the giants. |
The mutters weren't static. They moved in waves.
As the brothers passed a specific group of families, the muttering surged, a sudden increase in the hissing volume, before dying down into a hum as they moved further along the path.
While the Banabans moved with a fluid, easy grace that made the coral sound like a whisper, the brothers' steps were still heavy and flat-footed, their gait producing a clop-crunch, a labored sound that betrayed their exhaustion.
Tako moved toward the Chief, his feet scuffing the coral grit. His voice was nervous.
"Uh... Chief."
Maluma moved with a slow, heavy gait. "Hm."
Tako scratched his head, his hand dropping back to his side instantly. "I wanted to tell you something that might confuse you."
Maluma tilted his head, his eyes narrowing into slits. "What?"
The air was heavy with the scent of charcoal and the lingering, salty steam of crab-and-fish soup. In the grove, the Bure (thatched huts) glowed with dim, orange embers.
Rania sat cross-legged on the pandanus mats.
She ate with a shlup, the muffled sound of her chewing filling the small space.
Thud.
A sudden, heavy impact struck the ground outside, then stopped.
Rania's head darted to the side, her amber eyes catching the firelight.
"Mom?" she asked the silence.
She waited, frozen like a limestone statue. When no answer came, she shrugged, dismissing the chill in the air, and continued eating.
Further down, near the perimeter of the Maneaba the crowd began to disperse.
"I had a dream this morning," Tako said, his eyes darting around the shadows. "A very odd one. Tinko told me these dreams could be caused by parasitic frequencies... or spirits. It left me thinking if I was chosen to be careful of what might happen."
Maluma crossed his arms over his chest, leaning in. "Uh, uh? What did the dream show you?"
Back in the distant groves.
The empty coconut husk fell to the floor with a hollow, wooden clunk, rolling twice before settling on the pandanus mat.
Rania stood up, the split-palm flooring giving a low, rhythmic groan under her weight.
She cleared her throat with a dry, gravelly guff, the sound echoing too loudly in the small space.
She walked toward the exit, her bare soles making a tack-tack sound against the smooth wood. At the edge of the Bure, she stopped.
"Mom? Mom!"
She reached out and gripped the Te Ari—the main support pillar. The coconut wood was ancient and rough, its dry fibers biting into her palm like tiny needles.
She leaned her body weight against it, the pillar let out a tight creak as she craned her neck out.
Her amber eyes scanned the paths.
The breadfruit trees were static, their large leaves looking like jagged black hands against the night sky.
There was no movement.
The grove felt too still.
The path away from the Maneaba was a stretch of crushed white coral that glowed faintly under the moon.
The air between the brothers was thick with the smell of Copper-Static Odor.
"I can't remember it all," Tako told the Chief, his voice low.
"It felt like a filler episode, but so real. The only thing I'm able to recall is Kanka."
Ahead of them, the group was a slow-moving silhouette.
A figure moved through the crowd like a needle threading through a loom.
He didn't just walk, he sliced through the humid air.
Underneath his skin, his muscles didn't look like flesh, but like a complex system of tendons.
The movement was entirely intentional.
The Crrrk-hiss of the sennit rope binding the wrists was the only constant sound, a dry friction of fiber against Kanka's skin.
His eyes darted to the side, catching the whites of the villagers' eyes as they watched from the dark gaps between the palms.
Maluma raised a thick, scarred brow. "Kanka?"
"That's what I saw," Tako insisted, stepping closer until he could smell the coconut oil on the Chief's skin.
"He ran toward me for help. The dream featured him falling in a spray of bones and blood. His head just popped straight open... like a breadfruit split by a falling branch."
Maluma stopped. He turned his head slowly, looking at the dense ring of the crowd, then back to Tako. His gaze was narrowed, a mix of confusion and a cold, rising suspicion.
"Okay?" Maluma's voice was a low vibration in his chest.
"I'm being dead honest!" Tako's hands flew up in a frantic gesture before he clamped them back down. "I know it sounds strange, why him, but—"
He was cut off by a change in the wind.
Panic surged through the grove.
Rania moved with a frantic, uneven rhythm, her feet hitting the dirt in a rapid pace as she moved past the huts.
Every corner she turned felt emptier than the last, a silence that seemed to swallow the air.
She spotted two young women walking past, their shadows stretching long and thin against the ground.
"Who are you looking for?" She asked, voice flat. Her jaw as square and heavy as a block of basalt, with lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line.
"I'm looking for my mom," Rania said, the words coming out in a high, brittle pitch.
"Have you seen her?"
The girl gave a wary, silent look, a pause that lasted a second too long.
"No," one responded, her hand lifting in a slow arc to gesture toward the dark tree line where the palms turned into solid ink.
"But you can look near the distant paths. Maybe you'll find her there."
Rania didn't wait. She lunged toward the deep grove, reaching a tight cluster of taro and palms where the air was thick and unmoving.
"Mom!"
Five women emerged from the gloom as if they had been carved directly from the shadows. They stood in a line, their faces obscured by the dim light.
One approached, her brow raised in a sharp, questioning angle.
"Hi. What's wrong?"
Rania's voice wavered, her hands shaking with a constant tremor. "Yes. I've sought for half an hour. She never leaves without me knowing. She just... vanished. Can you help me find her?"
The woman paused, her head tilting as she looked back at her companions. The silence was heavy.
"Ti na katoki ara makuri ngkai..Kariaia ara makuri rimmwi."
(Leave our work for later.We are stopping our work now.)
The relief hit Rania like a physical blow. Her legs gave way and she reached for the ground.
Her palms hit the dust with a dry slap as she touched the woman's lower legs, the traditional sign of desperate gratitude.
"Thank you, thank you so much."
The woman smiled, but her eyes held a strange, hard glint that didn't match the warmth of her lips.
"We're happy to help," she whispered. "Let's go."
The five women shifted their weight in unison, surrounding Rania as they stepped into the pitch-black of the taro patch.
Further past the Maneaba, Maluma's expression shifted to one of chilling realization.
"So you're saying Kanka is in danger?"
"I don't know for certain," Tako whispered, "but if the dream is a message, then I'm afraid so. It might be another Bako situation. Kanka might be next on the list."
As the figure passed the slower-moving locals, his shoulders remained a level, horizontal beam, showing no wasted energy.
Each footfall on the coral of Kanka's feet was a dry, brittle crunch, like old parchment being crushed
His deep, ink-black orbits, fixed straight ahead with a hollow, vacant stare that felt like he was looking right through the world, just a static, unblinking void.
His irises began to slide in the orange flames, catches the leading edge of his iris.
For a split second, a sliver of deep brown is visible against the white of the eyes like two polished glass lenses.
Maluma's voice turned hard as stone. "Then we need to protect them at all cost. The killer only needs one—"
He was cut off by a change in the wind.
The figure moved like a tear in the film strip between the villagers.
His tendon-like muscles rippled under his skin with the sound of pulling wire, the air hissing as it was pierced by the sudden movement.
Maluma's body lunged before his mind could scream. His eyes locked onto the blurring suspect with a sharp, needle-like focus,
His arm shot out, hand was a wide, desperate claw, fingers snatching at the empty air.
His voice was a deep, chest-shaking roar.
"Hey, hey!! Stop!!"
Tako convulsed, a shudder-choke escaped his throat. It was the sound of someone trying to scream while their lungs turned to lead.
His pupils were wide and fixed, shrinking into tiny black pinpricks.