The fire crackled in the center of the war council, its embers glowing like distant stars. Shadows flickered across the faces of the seven clan leaders, their expressions a mixture of distrust and curiosity. The air was thick with tension, the weight of their losses still pressing upon their chests.

  Shigen no Rihishito sat cross-legged, his face calm but his eyes calculating. His presence alone was an enigma—an exiled man who had lost everything yet still spoke with the confidence of a man holding the key to their survival.

  He exhaled slowly, then spoke.

  “There is a route to Shuri,” he began. “A path through the southern region of Amonkai. If we follow it, we may seek asylum.”

  The elders scoffed almost immediately.

  “Asylum?” muttered Karu of the Red Fang Clan, his broad arms crossed. “After what was done to our people? After the Butcher of Lika Island slaughtered our women and impaled our men?”

  Shigen remained unfazed. He gestured to his aide, a wiry man named Tetsujo, who swiftly unfurled a worn parchment onto the wooden table before them.

  “This is not about mere survival,” Shigen continued. His voice was steady, deliberate. “The reason we must reach Shuri… is because the second round of deliberations is about to begin. And this time, the decision will be made in the presence of King Tannagork of Tanna.”

  The murmurs ceased.

  All eyes turned toward him, sharp with intrigue. Even Kofi, who had remained skeptical of Shigen from the start, leaned in.

  Osei narrowed his gaze. “You speak of rounds. What do you mean?”

  Shigen placed a calloused hand on the map, tracing a route with his finger. “The Council of Shuri governs these islands, but it does not hold absolute power. Every great conflict is settled in two rounds—one among the council members, and the final before the King of Tanna.”

  He glanced at the faces around him. “We have lost the first round to Yoshiru the Black Tide. But we have one last chance. A chance to ensure that the council does not throw open the gates to destruction.”

  Lima folded his arms, his brow furrowed. “And why would the King of Tanna listen to us?”

  Shigen’s lips curved slightly, almost imperceptibly. “Because this land has been torn apart by war before.”

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  Shigen gestured to the map, and for the first time, the clans listened without interruption.

  “These islands were not always united,” he explained. “Two centuries ago, this archipelago was a battlefield, ruled by warring lords who sought to claim dominion over the sea routes. Chaos reigned, until one man—the great-grandfather of King Tannagork—rose above the others and crushed his rivals beneath his heel.”

  He pointed to Tanna, the largest island in the center of the map.

  “The Kingdom of Tanna was born from blood, but its foundation was not secure. Tannagork’s father was not a conqueror. He was a vassal of a greater empire, sent to govern these islands in the name of his overlords.”

  Osei frowned. “Then how did he take the throne?”

  Shigen smirked. “By taking it from his own family.”

  A ripple of unease passed through the room.

  “He wrested control from his cousin and established his own rule. But power, once stolen, is never secure. The moment he died, his four sons turned against each other. Tannagork, the eldest, wears the crown. But his brothers see him as a weakling.”

  Lima leaned forward. “And what of the Council of Shuri?”

  It was Tetsujo, Shigen’s aide, who answered.

  “No one knows where the council gets its true political power,” he admitted. “But one thing is clear. It has been infiltrated—long before the death of Tannagork’s father.”

  A silence settled over them, heavier than before.

  Kofi’s jaw tightened. “Then this isn’t just about the Butcher of Lika Island.”

  Shigen nodded. “No. This is about the future of these islands. If we do nothing, Tanna will crumble from within before Yoshiru’s forces even arrive.”

  Kofi left the tent, his mind a storm of thoughts. He walked aimlessly until he reached the foot of Sorei Hill, a place where he often found solitude. He lay on his back, staring up at the sky.

  The stars stretched endlessly above him, scattered like shattered diamonds on an obsidian canvas.

  What was the meaning of all this?

  The clans had fought for decades just to survive. Now, they were being dragged into a conflict far greater than themselves. The King of Tanna. The Butcher of Lika Island. The Council of Shuri. Where did they stand in all of this?

  The soft sound of footsteps reached his ears.

  Lima approached, carrying a half-eaten piece of fruit in one hand. He squatted down beside Kofi and took a lazy bite.

  “You always run to the stars when things get complicated,” Lima teased, his voice light.

  Kofi smirked but didn’t respond.

  Lima laid down next to him, tossing the fruit aside. “I’ve been thinking.”

  “Dangerous,” Kofi muttered.

  Lima laughed. “Shut up.”

  A long pause.

  Then, Lima exhaled deeply, staring up at the sky. “I think the Lord Adonai has something for us to do.”

  Kofi said nothing.

  Lima turned his head toward him. “We are going to Shuri.”

  Kofi closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. He didn’t need to answer.

  The stars had already decided.

  “I see.”

  Dawn arrived with the sound of hurried footsteps and the clinking of weapons. The group of ten—Kofi, Lima, Sawai, Osei, Roni, Karu, and four chosen warriors—prepared for the journey.

  Swords were strapped to backs. Leather armor was tightened. Supplies were packed onto horses.

  Shigen stood apart, watching them with quiet approval. He too was ready.

  They would leave their home behind, traveling toward a land of uncertainty. Toward Shuri.

  Toward war.

  [End of Chapter 5]