That night, as the tribe had moved to the secluded area of the Witherwoods, as they were called, I and Ani’sja went to the place where it had all begun. Where my destiny had been revealed or at least had started. We met an elder on the way and he told us to be silent and await the elders’ speaking.

“Twelve elders will guide you,” He said, “As do twelve axioms that you must remember when you achieve your destiny.”

He bowed and we walked on.

We walked through paths and trails, looking for the place where I had slain the sow. If we had been allowed to talk, I’m sure that I would’ve told Ani’sja how it had all been a split-second judgment that had made me kill the sow, nothing less and nothing more. He would’ve told me exactly how he fell in love with me after that, and maybe even the why. But instead I was left to think in silence. Maybe that was the better thing after all. Maybe it was better to think in silence, maybe that could help you to solve the greatest mysteries, more than arguing ever would.

It was fortunate that it gave me time to think, for I was able to think on what had happened and try to think of a way to put all of this back together. Multiple family members looked at me now not with any sort of love in their eyes, but with some of them, loathing. I thought on how to appease them, but I eventually realized that maybe I had to do my own thing, not their own thing.

It was something that I knew deep in my heart and soul, but not in my mind. I thought this because maybe my destiny would require me to do things that might upset many people that I loved now, but maybe many people that I would love soon rejoice. Maybe that was the reason, or maybe something else. Maybe it was because I had always known it to be true, and that it was only coming to me now.

When we got there, I looked around, spying the exact place where the sow had fallen. As I was looking at it, the total darkness that my eyes had adjusted to changed in fire to light. Me and my husband looked around. Twelve elders stood around us in a perfect circle, their lights casting a great light to all of us. I got up. Their faces were shadowed with hoods but I could see that they wore faded light brown cloaks.

“We bid you not to speak, but to listen, this hour.” The first one said in gravely voice. “Jai’rai did not die for you to argue about the plans that he made before us. We only have a limited time to tell you the secrets that he kept deep in his soul, the plans that he made, and the people that he set up to help you.”

“Once the plan begins, there can be no turning back,” Another one said, an old woman this time, “You cannot turn back from this path, just as he could not. You must embrace it like you would embrace an old friend who has come back from a long journey. Before you begin on this path, we must warn you, it will be rocky and dangerous. There is no telling if you will make it out alive, and this is something that we must tell you, for your own good. If your resolve is still there to go on the path with no return, please step forward. If you are afraid and you believe that you will not do it, then step back. Please take time to think on this, for you will only have one chance.”

Ani’sja immediately stepped forward, but I took time to think on it. It was ironic that I should take so much time to think on it when he had taken so little time, when it was my father that we were talking about. But my father, I knew, would want me to think for as long as I needed.

And so I thought a long time on it, and I decided to step back at one point, knowing that maybe I was not strong enough to go on this quest, to complete this journey.

In fact, that was what I did. I took a step back.

Ani’sja looked at me with pleading eyes. I could not do this, I thought, but then, I thought about my father’s funeral and the speech about planting seeds that you would never see mature, and how that was really the best thing that you could do, the most generous thing.

And so I thought, He died, but at least he died for something. If I die, at least I will die for something.

And so, I took the two steps forward.

“Good. We all fall to our human impulses, but what matters is not that we fall, what matters is that we get up.” Said the same elder.

I nodded.

“So say you.” Said the elder.

I nodded again.

“Now we shall tell you the plan, and what lies at stake.” Said the same elder.

“First,” Said a deep-voiced elder, “What lies at stake. Jai’rai saw a great threat on the horizon. He saw that soon a great enemy, a sickness or even a mutated animal, such as you killed here, would become too much for humanity to handle. That would result in humanity’s extinction. Unless, he thought, humanity was a civilization again. Then we would stand a better chance of eliminating the threat than we would if we were still opposed to each other, only a fraction of us being in a civilization, even them opposed to each other. If you do not succeed, then all might be destroyed within the next few hundred years. Jai’rai was a very smart man. After all, he grew up in the cities, and there he studied mathematics, and he determined that the probability of humanity facing a great threat was, as of that time, astronomical. This worried him greatly, and he decided to join the tribes in order to unify them into one great civilization. Seeing that this would not happen in his lifetime, he decided to plant the seeds and hope that his offspring could nurture them. Hoping against hope, he married his plan with the chief’s, in order to get the chief’s approval.”

“The plan goes like this: you shall say to the tribes that there is a great threat on the horizon at the great council of chiefs, when one has been born that shall fulfill the false prophecies. One such has already been born. That is you, Asha’sja, formally called Asha’rai. You shall take that name, for in the prophecies it says that she shall take the name of her father, not of the one she weds, for in the original prophecies it was always a woman who would unify the tribes into something that would not fall. They said that any efforts to unify the tribes before then would fail, and fail disastrously. While that has not happened, you must convince the Shantus to say that it has. You must rewrite history in order to make it.” Said another elder, this time on with a more high-pitched voice, but not too high-pitched. Something normal for an elder.

“You will have many opponents in this. Jai’rai saw this when he first started making the plan. It is impossible to go about this without bloodshed happening, and so you must enter this path with a resolve to do whatever it takes. You cannot step back at any point, for that will mean most certain failure and the death of you.” Another elder said.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“The Shantus have the power the depose a chief in less than hour, but some will oppose you. Some of them will say to their chiefs that it is not the right thing to follow you, and the chiefs who oppose you will agree. If they do not agree, they will be deposed anyway. You must remember that being a chief does not always run in a family. The Shantu chooses a chief from the tribe, and sometimes they do not choose from the chief’s children, you must remember. If at any moment, you feel that your Shantu is going to go against you, you must stop him in any way that seems fit.” The elder nodded and stepped back. I didn’t know why I hadn’t noticed it before, but I certainly noticed it now.

“This also means that you must prevent any outside Shantus from tribes allied with you from resenting you or trying to depose you. Your Shantu can help with that. He is a good man, and though good men can change into truly evil ones, you can trust him, at least for the time being. A good man usually does not change in a day, though he can certainly change in a month.” A female elder told me and Ani’sja, sounding young for the age of being an elder.

“At the Council of Shantus, in but a week, you must have him announce to all of the Shantus that there has been new proof of the prophecy and that they must announce it to their chiefs. Soon the Uniter will be revealed is what he must say. This will immediately separate the unbelievers from the people that could believe. You must have him cite all of the advantages to having the Uniter around, and the prophecy, the original prophecy, must be read. The Shantus must believe the right thing or nothing at all. For not believing the right thing could be disastrous.” This one I thought that I recognized. Maybe it was the Shantu’s wife, who was a well-known elder. It definitely was a woman’s voice, anyway.

“The path moving forward will be hard. Force will surely be needed to unite all of the tribes into a successful civilization. If all of the tribes are behind you, you must know that they are probably not doing it truly, rather they are doing it because they want to turn on you. If that happens, the results will be disastrous. Give them spies. Do not let them be safe from your spies, no matter how much you trust them. Even if you only have a few tribes with you, do not trust anyone, except for your most devoted spies.” Another one I thought that I recognized said.

“Throughout the war, your enemies will try to trap you in various ways. Do not let them, and do not seek peace at the first possible opportunity unless it is their unconditional surrender, with their chiefs going into exile, humiliated. Your enemies must be humiliated. That is the only way. That can be the only way about doing it.” This one made a more elaborate bow into the shadows. It was a he, and his voice was the most gravely of them all.

“If you do not do this, disastrous things could happen. The path forward is blood-filled, sure, but that is the only way. You must not fear, you must not pain over the losses that you endure. This is the only way to complete the ultimate plan that Jai’rai set forth for you to follow, and since you have taken that literal first step, you must follow it. It is a simple plan, sure, but it is a plan that you must follow in order to succeed.” This elder had a loving voice, soft and warm in a way that I simply cannot describe. His brown cloak was even more faded than all of the others. Maybe that was because he had seen more, or maybe he just wasn’t that good at keeping his cloak in good condition. I liked the former more than the latter.

“And so we are done with this Council of Advisory, the seventh such council to exist. All of them have happened at pivotal times in modern history, and this is the most pivotal of all. It determines if we stay like this or if we rise above to face the great enemy that lies before us. To bring back the Golden Age of Humanity, or stay in what could be called the Dark Days of Humanity. You have chosen to rise above, and you must continue to choose that choice. From this point forward, the path must be lit with your own torches. And so we depart from you finally, with words of encouragement, but with a great quest set before you.” This time when the elder bowed his head he burst into flame, little at first, but growing greater with every minute, as did the other elders.

“No!” I yelled at the same times as Ani’sja, unable to keep myself from yelling. These were people, I saw, who I had lived with, who had advised me at times, and whom I had had the greatest experiences with. Only some of them I did not know, and those people I still loved.

As Ani’sja ran to one of their sides, I ran to one of the others, a woman named Iuo’jia.

“No! You can’t die. Not another person sacrificed on this path to civilization!” I didn’t realize myself yelling, but I yelled anyway.

The elder put his finger to the side of his mouth, then moved it to the right, paining himself to do it.

“It is but a small sacrifice to win the war that has raged ever since we emerged. The war of survival.” And with that, she slumped over, resolved to death.

I do not remember anything after that, except that Ani’sja had to take me away from the body of the dead elder.

Emotions…I could not hold them like this. I was not strong enough. But wouldn’t I be dishonoring the dead if I held them in? If I did not cry when I should cry. If I did not weep for the dead, then who would?

Over the next few weeks, each elder had their funeral. Ani’sja, who seemed to be more used to death than me (go figure) organized everything. He even cleaned the burn marks from their bodies using a mysterious ointment that I’d never heard of. It was convenient that elders would be burnt in a casket for that would have led to more problems if they weren’t supposed to be burnt in a casket. I never thought that, though, because it was all a blur of arranging the funeral and crying and crying.

How could I be strong in the face of such horrible death. But I remembered what Ani’sja had told me from what he heard from an elder, “The way he made it sound, it sounded like these were but the opening clashes of a much more painful experience.”

On the second week of funerals, I could not cry anymore. I had become numb to everything. Maybe that was what had happened to Ani’sja. If so, maybe it was for the better. In war, you had many casualties, and he was right, these were just the opening ones. But that didn’t make them any less painful.

The different funerals that I spoke at and witnessed started to go faster, almost in a blur, in other words, much faster than I would expect. But I was simply numb to all of it that it was not the crying that engaged me, it was the people that I saw at their absolute worst, and how they would never be the same. That was what truly made the funerals go by in a blur. Sometimes, they would have to remind me that it was my time to speak, I had been staring at the families for so long.

The emptiness also engulfed me from time to time, making me think about how they would never be the same, how I would never hear their laughs the same again. These people…at times, I felt that I was in their place, for I had also witnessed loss, too. Some other times I felt a million walks away, because some of them were so old and they would never be given the time to be the same.

After each of the funerals, I would try to offer consolidation to each of the families, trying to help them. But how could I help them when I was never good at helping myself? How could I even hope to help them when I could not even hope to help myself? That was the burning question that took my mind away from me these next few months. The answer was simple, really: fake it until you make it. Families needed consolidation, and if you didn’t at least try, then you were doing worse than failing at it. You weren’t even giving it a chance.

Most of the funerals were small, and held in a small amphitheater, just like my father’s had been held in. Amphitheaters like those were found across the lands of the earth, erected by now-extinct tribes as grounds for something that most chiefs could never puzzle out.

Because of all these funerals, I came to understand the elders’ message: that the path will be rocky, but it will be fully worth it, even if I die in the process.

I remembered my axiom that I now liked to call attention to: If I die, at least I will die for a good cause.

That was truly the elders’ message, for even if it didn’t include the whole plan thing, at least it was a call to fight for something.