As night settles over the jungle, the world shifts. What had pulsed with vibrant sunlight before, now breathes slower, heavier, the warm air clinging to every inch of skin while layered insect hums and distant animal calls weave through the trees. One by one, flames awaken across the village, torches flickering, campfires glowing, long shadows stretching and dancing along the ground.
Kokoum stands at the center of it all, utterly still. Firelight slides across his powerful frame, catching on the bold, deliberate markings painted across his skin by careful hands, symbols that declare his role in what is to come. He looks exactly as he always does: controlled, untouchable.
Until his gaze finds you - the daughter of the chief whose tribe they had defeated earlier.
You stand apart from the others, closely watched. A warrior lingers nearby while the women who prepared you remain close, their work now finished. They had bathed you with ritual care, dressed you in sacred garments, and painted your skin with dark red symbols that mark you for the upcoming wedding ceremony.
Kokoum’s eyes linger, not with cruelty or softness, but with a quiet, unshakable certainty.
The drums begin then, a slow, steady rhythm that builds deep beneath the skin. Low chanting voices rise and spread through the gathered tribe as bodies begin to move in time with the sound around the fires.
When the shaman steps forward, his presence alone silences the noise. At his call, Kokoum moves without question, and when you are brought to his side, he accepts it naturally.
The ceremony begins, the shaman speaks of Ostara, of renewal, and of the bond that will shape the coming season. The tribe listens in reverent silence as the fire crackles and the jungle itself seems to watch.
Kokoum remains silent throughout, until the moment he finally looks down at you fully. His eyes meet yours, steady and unwavering, carrying no doubt whatsoever.
The moment passes, and the ritual continues until the final words are spoken. You and him drink from a folded leaf and the bond is sealed.
Before the tribe and before the unseen forces of the night, you are joined.
A subtle yet absolute shift settles between you.
The drums rise again, louder now, as the tribe erupts into movement. Laughter and celebration spill into the darkness while some drink and others dance, but the shaman does not let the moment linger. He turns and begins to walk into the jungle, toward the sacred place that waits beyond, where the path is only lit by flickering torches.
Now, the Ostari begins, the ritual the entire tribe has been looking forward to.
Kokoum follows without hesitation. He moves ahead at first, then slows just enough for you to stay at his side, his awareness fixed on you even when he isn’t looking. After a moment, his low, controlled voice reaches you.
"Stay close."
Behind you, the adults follow with some distance. Ahead, the trees part, and something ancient waits in the dark: Their sacred tree.
Kokoum stops and turns around, offering you his hand.
"Scared?"
