The Appointed Pillars
In the gathering hall of the temple, under its vaulted stone roof and flickering torchlight, Zion addressed his people and the emissaries of visiting tribes.
Three priestesses stood beside him, each already marked by divine fire.
But tonight, they would be marked by responsibility.
"This market is more than trade," Zion declared. "It is our bridge to the world—and it must be protected, directed, and made sacred."
He turned to Seal, the priestess of Erzulie Freda, and gently pressed a carved jade coin into her palm.
"You," he said, "will oversee the market and the flow of wealth. Your goddess understands value, beauty, and balance. Keep trade honest. Let this place prosper without greed."
Seal bowed, her usual playful demeanor replaced with rare solemnity.
"I accept. And I will bless every coin exchanged with respect, not hunger."
To Thalia, still adjusting to the power of Ogou, he gave the command stone—a flat slate carved with defense routes and outer patrol rotations.
"You will shape our shield and sword. Train our warriors. Fortify the boundaries. Build readiness not just for battle—but for deterrence."
Thalia simply nodded, her grip firm. The fire in her eyes matched the heat of the Lwa who had chosen her.
Regional Ripples
The effect of the market on the surrounding tribes was immediate—and complicated.
Some praised Nouvo Lakay as a new axis of peace, where once-hostile peoples now met and traded beneath temple shadows. Others whispered that Zion was growing too powerful, that this was no longer a tribe—it was the seed of a kingdom.
A delegation from the Dune-Faced Clan requested a formal alliance. Another tribe, the Bloodthorns, sent spies under the guise of weavers, hoping to learn how the market and temple worked.
There were growing signs that unity inspired envy, and that the economy of trust was fragile.
Still, goods flowed. Peace mostly held.
For now.
The Stone Revolution
In the quieter corners of Nouvo Lakay, Milo worked.
With Baron Samedi's sigil burning at his spine and sacred knowledge still unfurling in his dreams, he began reshaping how people lived.
He tore down weak, one-room shelters and replaced them with modular stone homes—each designed with ventilation, fireproofing, and defensive corners that doubled as storage or escape tunnels.
The homes were elegant but sturdy, shaped by intuitive geometry no one else understood.
People began calling them "bones of the gods."
Milo, half in awe of what he was becoming, said little. He just kept building.
The Quiet Echo
One evening, a visiting tribe from the Shifting Reeds brought with them a strange gift: a bundle of woven bark scrolls, each inscribed with symbols no one recognized.
They claimed the scrolls came from a tribe even further east, one that had vanished overnight, leaving behind only fire-blackened trees and twisted totems.
Zion, concerned, passed the scrolls to Ayomi for interpretation.
She paled.
"These symbols… aren't tribal," she whispered. "They're not human. And some… match the carvings on the deepest walls of the temple."
No one said it aloud, but everyone felt it.
A storm was brewing.
A Subtle Shift
Despite the unease, the people of Nouvo Lakay grew stronger.
Thalia organized scouting teams, arming younger warriors with spears tipped in obsidian.
Seal implemented market tokens, each marked with a glowing seal of trade, cutting down on fraud and building true value.
Ayomi, Ayola, and Seal met weekly to align spiritual guidance with leadership.
And Zion watched it all unfold—not with pride, but with vigilance.
For with every success, a shadow stretched behind it.