The Temple Complete
The first light of dawn bathed the village in gold, but this morning, Nouvo Lakay felt different.
The temple was complete.
Towering at the heart of the tribe, its stone walls bore etched sigils that shimmered faintly, alive with divine resonance. At the peak stood a circular opening, where sunlight would pour directly onto a central altar—designed not for sacrifice, but for offering and unity.
Each priestess had their own chamber:
Seal, priestess of Erzulie Freda, adorned her space with vibrant cloth and soft music.
Ayomi, chosen by Papa Legba, kept hers sparse, filled with maps, scrolls, and a singular carved gate.
Ayola, daughter of Baron Samedi, painted her walls with bones and blessings, her floor a circle of black salt.
Together, they led the first ceremony within the temple's walls—not to call the gods, but to thank them.
Outside, hundreds gathered. Some wept. Others sang. And all of them believed.
Farming and Foundations
In the weeks prior, Zion had not only traveled—he planted.
With guidance from nearby tribes and experimentation alongside curious villagers, small garden plots had begun to thrive. Root vegetables, native grains, and nutrient-rich vines took root in cultivated soil.
Zion had even successfully domesticated a burrowing, horn-nosed mammal—a fast-breeding animal once thought too wild to tame. Now, they provided meat and fur for the tribe, and their presence attracted less dangerous predators, easing hunting routes.
Though it was humble, Zion called it a victory.
"We are no longer just survivors," he told Milo one night. "We're becoming settlers."
The First Market
Inspired by the flow of trade he'd seen on his travels, Zion proposed something daring:
A marketplace—open once a week—where Nouvo Lakay and neighboring tribes could trade openly, under peace and protection.
And they did.
At first, it was cautious: bartering baskets of dried fish for stone blades or trading woven blankets for herbal tinctures.
But then came color: pigments from distant mountains, spices that made the tongue dance, carved instruments that summoned wind through reeds.
The marketplace became more than trade—it became a festival.
Laughter returned to the air. Drums were played between trades. Even rival tribes—once cold and guarded—shared food under the rising temple's shadow.
"We do not demand allegiance," Zion said at the center of the market square. "Only respect, and peace while you're under our roof."
By the third week, fifteen tribes had visited. Seven had returned more than once. Two sent emissaries asking for permanent stalls.
Nouvo Lakay was becoming more than a village.
It was becoming a hub.
Stone, Spirit, and Strategy
Within the pyramid of power, things continued to evolve.
The priestesses, more than divine symbols, had become leaders of daily life:
Seal taught empathy through mediation and song.
Ayomi began training young scouts to interpret symbols and languages from other tribes.
Ayola secretly mentored the grieving and the lost—guiding them toward closure or shadow work.
Zion, for the first time since waking in this world, began to see the shape of a future.
And that future had pillars now: made of stone, spirit, and choice.
Final Ember
That night, with the fire cracking in the open-air square and market stalls covered in cloth, Zion stood beside Thalia. Her eyes glowed faintly—Ogou's mark humming at her shoulder.
"We built a temple," she whispered.
"And a market," Zion added with a grin.
"What next?"
"Maybe…" he looked at the stars, "…a legacy."