The morning mist hung heavy over the banks of the river where the two tribes had chosen to meet. Nouvo Lakay's warriors, lean and steady, stood alongside their beast companions, their sigils faintly glowing beneath the rising sun. Across the water, the Tribe of Ondine arrived in long, slender boats, their blue-and-white painted skin shimmering with each ripple.
At the forefront of the Ondine delegation, Chief Wayan's sharp gaze searched the faces before him. His cloak, dark and damp from the river, draped over his broad shoulders as he stepped onto the soft earth. Beside him walked Priestess Ilani, calm but worn, her eyes carrying the weight of silent prayers to their god, Maru'el.
Zion waited patiently, flanked by his inner circle and the two warrior priestesses. The air was heavy with unspoken words, the memory of their lost hunter a shadow that neither tribe ignored.
"We mourn with you," Chief Wayan began, his voice low but sincere. "Your warrior was brave, but the forest is unforgiving."
Zion nodded, his expression somber. "He was strong, but the land demands respect. We will honor him in our rites."
Priestess Ilani stepped forward, her voice soft yet firm. "Maru'el's silence weighs on us all. Your gods bring power that is strange and terrifying. It is no wonder your people seem bound to the beasts and earth in ways we cannot fathom."
A murmur passed through the Nouvo Lakay warriors, some exchanging uneasy glances.
Zion met her gaze steadily. "Our bond with the spirits is old, but it is not without cost. Your god's silence… it speaks in shadows, yes?"
Ilani nodded. "It speaks of patience, and of storms yet to come."
Chief Wayan's eyes narrowed slightly. "We come with respect, but also caution. Your tribe grows in power and mystery. The balance of this land is delicate."
Zion's jaw tightened. "Then let this meeting be the start of understanding, not war."
Captain Aja, standing near Wayan, shifted uncomfortably. His eyes betrayed the fear that still haunted him from the encounter with Baron Samedi — a god who had shattered the Ondine's long-held doubts with terrifying presence.
As the sun rose higher, the two tribes prepared to share food and stories, their future hanging in a fragile balance — a fragile hope born from loss, trust, and the ever-watchful gaze of gods both seen and silent.