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    "Your ancestors have worshipped us as Gods, Nelius!" She had said. "Their spirits are ashamed of your deeds today. I have watched over you for eons, blessing you and your people with the most priceless gifts. I can take back what I gave - and I will. When I do, you''ll be mindless monsters roaming the land - even less than the beasts that you rear. And that''s all you are worth."


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    The lake water stayed eerily still, reflecting the fiery hues of the sunrise. Chief Nelius Tuscan had his eyes fixed on the horizon where the sun peeked over the heights of Maverielle mountains. The cold water washed over his body washing away the burn of regret from his chest. He took his last dip of the Sacred bath and when he emerged back out of the water, gasping for air, he felt his burden lightening already.


    I''ll find a way to save my people. I won''t let them succumb to the witches'' curse, he thought with rejuvenated confidence.


    Each of his men took their turn to dip into the lake, scrubbing their skin vigorously with handfuls of crushed jungle orchids and mint leaves. These herbs and their fragrances were said to cleanse their known and unknown sins before entering the sacred clearing where the ritual was about to take place.


    Cheif Nelius Tuscan emerged out of the lake, his skin tingling from the herbal mix. Once on the land, he changed into his Eshara, a soft white garment reserved for rituals like purification and mourning.


    Today''s ritual is going to be both, Nelius thought, tying the Eshara around his waist securely.


    They were going to build the Traveller''s Tomb not only as an honour to those leaving their new-found land this evening but also as a memorial to those who had lost their lives during the witch hunt.


    Chief Nelius Tuscan forced the persistent memory to the back of his mind and moved inland, stepping over the rocky terrain. His men have made a narrow path by clearing the small bushes and thin, woody tress for the entire tribe to pass through to attend the farewell ritual. Monkeys danced on the branches of the highest trees, screeching and chattering, announcing the trespassing of humans into their terrain. Parrots and cuckoos flapped their wings overhead. A deer that had been spying on him from an uncut part of the woods, loped away as he approached the clearing where the ritual was about to take place.


    The priest was ordering unmarried, young lads to arrange the firewood properly for the Holy fire, his arms moving in jerky motions as he described the procedures and the intrinsic symbolism they conveyed in greater depth. The young lads were more than eager to learn the traditions, scuttling around the clearing, bringing logs for the Holy fire and assisting the priest. Older men of the tribe carried the large, uncut stones they had brought from the other side of the lake into the clearing, their bodies beaded with sweat from the exertion of their task. It would have been easier for them to simply gather stones and boulders from the immediate surroundings of the clearing. But as per Tuscanian traditions, its imperative that they only use the materials and offerings they had gathered from the protected territory of their homeland.


    The young, unmarried ladies stood along the perimeter of the clearing, entertaining the children while their mothers, were busy preparing the oblation materials meant to be casted into the Holy fire as offerings to Gods.


    Chief Nelius Tuscan scanned the selection of offerings those women had found from the other side of the lake. From Tuscanvalle, he forced himself to believe that this was their new homeland. The new Tuscanvalle!


    As he watched, the women placed three large banana leaves on the land, in front of the logs that had been set in place for the Holy fire. Over those leaves, they arranged the washed arrowhead tubers, the papayas and wild bananas they had found growing in abundance near the lake shores and cracked coconuts on a carefully scattered layer of wild rice. Nelius hadn''t noticed the wild rice growing in this region before but probably because he was preoccupied with the preparations for his journey. But it made sense, given the enormity of the lake and the abundance of water supply in and around their new homeland. Now he thought, the women must have found the wild rice near the shallow areas of the lake and must have saved the grains particularly for the ritual because burning it in the Holy Fire after the ritual was complete represented fertility and protection of their tribe. Besides, he was certain that they did not use it to cook during the past month.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Finally the Chief''s wife, Rosa, adorned the oblation materials with large blooms of lotus flowers she had plucked from one of the several freshwater ponds scattered across their new homeland.


    When the offerings were ready, she straightened her back and scanned their handiwork with a tinge of satisfaction in her eyes, before her attention flickered to the edge of the clearing where Nelius stood overseeing his people who were striving to undo their past.


    Another pang of regret tugged at his heart suffocating his very being.


    As he watched, Rosa whispered something to the woman who stood near her. The woman hurried to edge of the clearing, and disappeared behind the crowd of ladies and children. Moments later, she returned with a large salver covered in thin silk fabric they had brought from their old homeland. Over that lay his Zharvan and Thalrek.


    A Zarvan was a headdress worn by tribal leaders or elders, symbolizing their connection to ancestors and the divine. From where he stood, Chief Nelius Tuscan could not make out the elaborate carvings and animal motifs on it but he could visualize the ginormous elephant fighting with a blood-soaked lion carved into it. The memory had been etched into his mind. He had seen his elder brother and former chief of Tuscanvalle, Kalius Tuscan, wear it during every ceremony and celebration back when he was alive. But the witch hunt… The witch hunt had robbed him of his brother. The witches have robbed Tuscanians of a great Chief.


    "My Lord!" Rosa''s exuberant voice interrupted his reverie.


    Chief Nelius Tuscan glanced at his wife. Her eyes darted around the clearing in an attempt to hide how flustered she felt at the moment.


    "The priest says it''s time to light the Holy Fire. Please do wear these and…" her voice wavered. She lowered her eyes to the ground. A single drop of tear rolled down her cheek.


    Chief Nelius Tuscan caught the teardrop before it landed over her raised bosom and wiped the remaining wetness off her face. "There''s no need to be concerned, Rosa. I know you''re worried we might never get to see each other again." He paused at the sight of Rosa jerking her head to look at him with pleading eyes but then continued anyway. "I''m doing this for our people. We are doing this for our people." He lifted her chin with his thumb and forefinger, knowing no amount of reassurance would put her heart at ease.


    Rosa sighed, blinking her tears away. "I understand, My Lord. And I will spend every second of the rest of my life waiting for your arrival, praying for your wellbeing," she said, her voice wavering with unspeakable sorrow.


    Chief Nelius Tuscan offered her a measured smile to convey his satisfaction with her reply and started wearing his Zarvan and Thalrek. While Zarvan was an intricately carved headdress adorned with bells and feathers, Thalrek was a long ceremonial sash worn by both men and women during rituals.


    When he was done, he stepped into the clearing. The priest noticed his approach and he nodded his approval. The priest turned around to light the logs placed in the ceremonial ground. The women and men gathered around the clearing started beating and blowing their makeshift drums and flutes cheerfully, announcing the commencing of the ritual. Beyond the priest, the logs caught fire almost immediately, the flames reaching up to the sky.


    The sight and sounds reminded Nelius of a dreadful memory - one associated with fire.


    The witch hunt!


    Back then, they had captured three witches, two females and one male. The females, Chief Nelius Tuscan believed, were sisters. The male seemed like he was the partner to one of them. The couple had been loud and threatening all the while, taunting them with curses since day one. But no one paid any heed, dismissing their taunts as meaningless blabberings. Until…


    Until, one day, their curses became true.


    That morning, his brother, Kalius Tuscan had been busy receiving delivery of firewood from the three giant empires and stacking them in roofed sheds to protect them from unexpected rain when he noticed the pyre was about to extinguish itself. The four men appointed to watch over the pyre were missing and the witches were getting restless inside in circle of fire. So he had ordered a few other men to add wood to the pyre and had approached the clearing to inspect the state of the witches.


    Something had happened.


    Nelius could not understand what it could be. But something had happened that day. Because when Kalius had arrived home that afternoon, he was…


    Cheif Nelius Tuscan sighed, trying to block the memory from creeping over his consciousness. But it stuck to his mind like an iguana. The people continued to make ceremonial nioses. The priest has started to recite the Holy incantations. The powdery smell of burnt wood and the sweet caramelized smell of the oblation materials being burnt in the holy fire filled the air with a sense of sacredness. But Chief Nelius Tuscan''s mind obsessively drifted back to the memory.


    That afternoon, when Kalius had arrived home, he was rotting… like a corpse left unburnt.


    He was alive… Kalius was alive.


    There was breath in him, there was pulse in him.


    But he was rotting.