The southern islands were many, ranging from small mile long narrow stretches to vast jungle lands peaked with ancient volcanoes that sputtered with occasional life.
The Isle of Tomo lay fourteen miles from Reathin, the southern most tip of Phaeratii. The Tomoans were indifferent to the happenings around them, being one of the few independent isles. They were content to let the rest of the world pass them by.
As Phaeratii and Yugaron and all the other nations placed their hopes in technology and looked to the future, the Tomoans looked to the past for answers. To their Speakers and their Bone-Tellers; the voices of their gods and the interpretors of the dead. They held no trust in weapons to protect their freedom, only the will of their spirit guardians could vouchsafe that. The greatest of these Ung-kuru, he-who-holds-the-dark, gave them their greatest shield from the outsiders that would do them harm. He had shrouded the isle in mists that confused those at sea and bade them crash against his earthly teeth, the great reef that sheltered the isle from tropical storms.
But something was happening, and the Speakers had no answers. The Gods had grown quiet, and even the whispers of the restless dead had abruptly ceased. But more alarming than this, Ung-Kuru had abandoned them. The fog had begun to lift.
Today Besula, a young hunter of the Red Bear Clan, sat with his back against a small cool white boulder, his eyes never leaving the three men that stood within the sacred circle.
The largest of the three, easily six and a half feet, broad shoulders heavy with muscle and bedecked in the feathers and jewels of his father, was Chief Incasi. He stood between Entya, the Bone Mistress with her body nude and painted black and Carthul the Mouth who sat cross-legged, his face and chest hidden behind a large oval white mask with nothing but two eye holes and a single painted flame.
Incasi surveyed those who had gathered to hear his words, his eyes holding Besula's for a brief moment before choosing a point in the distance and staying there as he spoke. "My children. Our ancestors' silence shows us the time is at hand!"
There were mutterings in response, then silence as the Chief raised his hands. "Kraasa is coming. 'He who walks between the veils' has marked the beginning of his ascension. The stone will be taken and our people will be his warriors, his dark heralds as was foretold at the beginning of time."
Entya touched his shoulder and the chief lowered his arms and stepped back to allow her center place. Raising her staff, the bone of Incasi's father, she spoke in soft yet powerful tones that held all entranced. "The cloud shields have returned to the heavens. Kraasa's chosen form shall come, a stranger to our eyes, with eyes not his own upon the wings of the oakfather across the fallen sky. The stone shall be his heart and his heart shall know the path to the fields of eternal shadow. One here must present the stone, lest Kraasa take our people's blood in its stead."