The fire crackled gently as night fell completely over the jungle clearing, swallowing the trees and shadows in a shroud of darkness only pierced by their modest flames. The funeral pyre had long since turned to ash, the scent of burnt wood and something more sinister still lingering in the air. Smoke curled upward like a serpent into the night sky, where stars slowly bled into view.
After the priest's body had been reduced to nothing but smoldering bones and ember, Liam had turned to the silent, wide-eyed natives and raised his voice for one final command.
"Return to your homes," he had said, calm but firm. "I will speak to you again at first light."
Von translated, and though confusion stirred among them, none dared to challenge him. One by one, they bowed again and slipped away into the jungle paths, vanishing into their crude wooden huts and canopied shelters. Their whispers faded with them. The clearing, at last, belonged to Liam and his people once more.
