The skyline was a pale gray-blue. A single drum intermittently pounded.

Before the sun had fully risen, the entire Ibex clan gathered at the Cliff of Brun, where the women and men of the mo’huran would perform the Pledge Rite. The approximately three-hundred members of the clan, including the children and thralls, had gathered in a glade beneath an enormous slanted rock wall, tilted towards the smoldering great spirit. The rock was a blackish-brown granite. Countless white handprints had been painted upon the giant slab, one right over another, forming the shape of an upside-down V, imitating the rough shape of the volcano. The handprints extended high upon the rock face. Yuliko estimated that four people on each others’ shoulders would reach the top point.

The drum continued as they all waited.

Yuliko wore the feathered headband her mother had given her, and on her belt she harnessed the antler pick from her father. She and the rest of the journeyers stood beneath the triangle of handprints, arranged by status. They had all their gear with them and they wore wraps that exposed their upper chests. Each journeyer held their ritual obsidian blade in hand. Once they committed their Pledge Rite they would be departing out of Black Glass territory in whatever direction Eshika determines is the will of Maw’Goro.

The welt on Krissa’s head had faded and she no longer wore a bandage. However, now Kardan’s hands were bandaged up, and he was decently hungover. Minty looked as nervous as Yuliko felt. And, Faydayo, he seemed less cocky, not so puffed anymore. Instead, he stood stoically, like he was copying Domylo.

The Cliff of Brun was said to be where Brun the Serpent Slayer had vowed to hunt down the twin sister dragons, Ingu and Wigi. The sisters were the only monsters with the strength and boldness to attack Maw’Goro’s domain. They would fly their feathered bodies over the forests, terrorizing Maw’Goro’s people, swooping down to snatch them up with their scaly claws. No warriors were brave enough to face the dragons, until Brun announced he would slay the sisters. Brun’s courage was so great that the giant granite slab bowed to him. Then, the other warriors felt ashamed they had not been brave themselves, and they volunteered to join Brun on his hunt. That was the formation of the first mo’huran, as the story goes.

Of course, on the other side of the forest where the Monkey Clan dwelt there was another rock slope that they called the Brun’s Cliff, where they claimed the earth bowed to Brun. It was a matter of contention at every clan gathering. Inevitably the Ibexes and the Monkeys would argue over where Brun formed his mo’huran with no clan ever submitting they were wrong. Eventually the other clans would tire of the debate and it would be deferred until the next gathering.

Yuliko looked to the crowd. She saw Tati and Makala. And she saw Lion too, smiling through his bushy brown beard. And standing prominently in the front was her chieftain father father and her mother. Domylo wore his most elegant beaded sash over his snakeskin vest. Kuli wore her most colorful feathered headdress. Morning light scattered over them through the tree canopy, dancing like sparks from a fire.

The singular drum beat steadily quickened in pace. Rattling gourd shakers joined the beat. And from the shadow of the giant slab, out stepped Eshika, wearing her scarlet wooly coat and her face painted white with streaks of red encircling her mouth and eyes. Her blue eyes appeared absurdly out of place.

Yuliko still had not had a chance to speak with the shaman about why she nominated her, or why the red mark. And, she never would get that chance, at least not until after her Journey, for like the nomination ritual the youths would march off to begin their Great Journey immediately after their Pledge Rite, without speaking or looking back.

The music grew faster and louder. A low rumbling horn joined the troupe of instruments. Eshika stood between the journeyers and the crowd, with the triangle of hands towering behind her. The shaman raised her hands in the air as the pounding drum came to a blusterous crescendo and the horn wailed loud and sharp, coming to a sudden halt.

“These young women and men say they are worthy of Maw’Goro’s bounties,” Eshika announced with her hands still high. “They say they shall be Maw’Goro’s servants and protectors. They say they will prove they are worthy as their elders have proven themselves worthy.” Eshika then peeled open her ibex fur wrap to reveal the slash scar across her chest. “These young ones say they are ready for their Great Journey.”

The drum beat on cue, three times in quick succession, followed a quick guard rattle. One of the younger girls, Gidiya, ran onto the staging ground carrying the painted ibex horn that had replaced the lost clan totem. The stolen totem had been intricately carved with images of the Maw’Goro rising from the chaos that existed before him. The new painted totem shared the same images, though was far less impressive. Gidiya glanced back to give Kardan a cheeky smile as she stood in place by Eshika’s side holding the totem.

“We have spoken for these young men and women, and say they are worthy of their Great Journey,” Eshika said. “Today they shall make the Pledge Rite. They shall make the same vow that Brun and his mo’huran made before they left for the far lands to hunt Ingu and Wigi. They say they shall return with a worthy tribute for Maw’Goro, or they shall perish in the far lands.”

Another quick drum beat followed by a rattle. Gidiya handed the totem horn to the shaman, then she stood on the sideline. Eshika held out the horn towards the crowd, displaying the images of a thundering storm cloud and a large fish, both being consumed by red hot lava.

“The world we know has always been divided into two,” Eshika said. “Between Maw’Goro’s domain and the far lands. Just as there is the earthly realm and the Other World. But same as how the earthly realm was birthed from the Other World, Maw’Goro was birthed from the chaos of the far lands. Before Maw’Goro, the spirits constantly fought with one another for dominion, and the people of their lands were forced into perpetual war. Four great spirits were the strongest; the Storming Mountain, the Saltwater Sea, the Windy Desert, and the White Wasteland.”

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Eshika spun the ibex horn around to show the painting of a scarab and a white bear, also being engulfed in lava. “But the Great Maw’Goro did not wish for chaos, instead he wished for balance. And he erupted into a fiery explosion so mighty that it sent the other warring spirits to the far corners of the world. From the fire flowed Maw’Goro’s hot blood, which spread far and wide, and hardened to become both the land and the people. Since then the Black Glass People have been blessed with Maw’Goro’s bounties as long as they preserve the balance.” The shaman handed the totem back to Gidiya, who then rejoined the crowd.

“But once the twin serpents had dared to cross into Maw’Goro’s land and devoured his people, the great spirit learned that harming his people weakened him, and allowed the serpents to steal his magic. The great spirit needed a hero. And so Brun stepped forth, as the first of the Black Glass People to venture into the far lands. Now these journeyers take his same vow.”

The daylight was rising and the contrast between the dark granite and the white handprints became more harsh. Yuliko could see the faces in the crowd more distinctly too. Her mother smiled, but somberly. And it seemed to Yuliko there was a dose of sadness in her father’s eyes instead of his normal expressionless presence. She wondered if he was sad to see her leaving, or was it for Faydayo? Yuliko realized she had not thanked her father for her antler pick.

The drums pounded repetitively again. Eshika turned to face the lineup along the rock wall.

“A mo’huran’s journey may take them across many lands in many directions, but the Great Maw’Goro has told me that this mo’huran is to venture north. It is in the direction of the White Wasteland that you shall find your tribute for the spirit.”

To the north, the same direction the flatheads had come from, Yuliko realized. Towards the Big Fire.

For some reason the direction the White Wastled felt right to her. Yuliko recalled her dreams of white trees. It felt to her like that’s where she would find what she was looking, despite the tales saying the White Wasteland was a land full of ghouls.

“Journeyers, you have crafted your blades from Maw’Goro’s blood, same as Brun had, and same as your ancestors have done since Brun’s Journey,” Eshika said. “Hold out your blades. It is time to make your pledge.”

Each member of the mo’huran raised out their arm with the blades facing sideways. Eshika glided over in front of Faydayo. He spun his blade so the hilt was offered up to the blue-eyed shaman. Eshika accepted the blade and held it chest level. His triangle tattoo showed prominently in the center of his chest.

“Mo’huran leader Faydayo, do you vow to return with a worthy tribute, to honor and protect Maw’Goro’s domain, and preserve the balance,” Eshika asked.

“I vow under the shadow of Maw’Goro,” Faydayo proclaimed.

The shaman slashed across his chest in a diagonal, right above his tattoo. The same slash wound all the full-fledged members of the clan bore. Blood trickled down Faydayo’s muscular torso over his triangles.

“Now go. And do not return until your vow is complete,” Eshika said, and handed Faydayo back his ritual blade.

Without saying anything else, Faydayo sheathed his knife, donned his backframe, and grabbed his spear. Then he marched out of the staging ground around the Cliff of Brun and out of sight.

Eshika repeated the Pledge Rite with each of the journeyers, leaving bloody slashes across all of their chests. Minty had audibly whined when she had been slashed. Kardan seemed bemused to be cut up by obsidian again so soon. When Eshika had performed the Pledge Rite on her apprentice, it seemed to Yuliko that there had been some kind of understanding communicated between her and Krissa’s eyes.

As the lowest status, Yuliko was last in line, all the others had grabbed their gear and spears and disappeared along with Faydayo behind the Cliff of Brun. Eshika stood in front of her, holding Yuliko’s ritual blade, and looked upon her with those otherworldly blue eyes.

“Yuliko, do you vow to return with a worthy tribute, to honor and protect Maw’Goro’s domain, and preserve the balance,” she asked.

Once she took this pledge she could no longer stay in her home. She would be obliged to go out into the unknown where she would have no clan to rely upon, only her mo’huran, half of whom didn’t like her. Fear swelled up inside of Yuliko, a petrifying fear, same as when she saw the green man. Out there in the far lands she would face dangers she couldn’t yet imagine. Did she have what it takes to survive in the wild beyond? She doubted herself.

With great force, she mustered the strength to say, “I vow under the shadow of Maw’Goro.”

Then Eshika raised the obsidian knife to Yuliko’s chest, posed to make the slash that sealed the pledge. And at that very moment, the earth rumbled, the ground trembled, stones clattered, trees swayed. Eshika had been mid-slash with the knife, and she shook in such a way that instead of just a diagonal slash, Yuliko had been cut with a V-shape over her heart. Blood spilled down Yuliko’s chest as the world vibrated violently.

Yuliko and Eshika held onto each other. So did most of the crowd. Thankfully, the tremor turned out to be small and quick. In just a matter of seconds, the rumbling ceased and the world was still. The journeyer and the shaman pulled apart from each other and looked down at her chest. The cut was an inversion of the triangle of white hands.

Yuliko stood still in shock, unsure what to do. There was a murmur amongst the crowd. Many were already saying that was a bad sign from the spirits. Some thought they should leave, and in fact were starting to do so. However, before the crowd could become unruly Chieftain Domylo stepped on the staging ground with his fist raised high in the air.

The crowd hushed themselves down and returned their attention to the front. Then Domylo looked back to his daughter with his hardened eyes. The ceremony was to continue.

In silence, Yuliko accepted her knife back from Eshika, she strapped on her backframe, and picked up her spear. She looked upon her clan one last time. They all stared at her disfigured ritual scar. Then, Yuliko marched away to join her mo’huran and begin their Great Journey.