Novel Bin
Blasfemy of the Gods
The Marked One
The drums of Mapungubwe echoed through the valley, a rhythm older than memory itself. Smoke from sacred fires curled into the night sky, carrying whispered prayers to gods who no longer answered. Tanaka knelt before the great baobab, his hands bound in ceremonial rope, his body painted with ochre and ash. The air was thick with the scent of burning herbs, meant to open the spirit’s eye, but the only thing Tanaka felt was the cold gaze of the elders standing around him.
“This is the only way,” intoned the high shaman, his voice deep and final. “You have seen too much, child. The spirits are watching you.”
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