Alarms blared, sirens whooped, flashing lights fought the deep darkness. Boots on, boots off, zippers down, faces and hair disheveled, it didn’t matter. Members flooded the paved roads, kicking up dust as they rushed. Forward. Onward. A current of bodies, all moving as one as they answered the call. The compulsion, whispering, calling, beckoning.

Candidates joined the flow, brows knit in confusion, unable to refuse the pull. Hundreds, thousands of bodies pressed forward, swarming together as the sea of dark blue-grey uniforms was dotted by the occasional spot of brightly clothed candidates.

Soundlessly, the steadily growing procession surged ever forward, absent of the rumbling and bustling that thousands of feet would cause. The alarm blared, sirens swirled, calling them, filling their senses.

A brilliant light beckoned, winking at the mindless mass. Eye’s squinted, they moved without thinking, mirrors of one another. Their faces slack as the blaring alarms became a syncopated mess of rhythmic beating, pulsating as their heads bobbed with each hurried step.

Before long the horde flooded into the wide open market square, right in the heart of the Motu. They were greeted by a towering stage, looking as if it had shot out of the middle of the empty space. All around, from every street, from every nook and cranny, waves of members and candidates flooded. Like tumultuous waves during a midnight storm, the separate throngs crashed into one another. Seamlessly they melded, falling into place next to one another, tightly packed in as the numbers grew and grew.

Steadily, like neat little rows of worker ants milling about the nest, they packed in around the shadowy dais. The bright light shone down on it, glaring with its hot stare. All around the square the indolent, slack faces sagged, sweat rolling off and soaking all of the candidates while the members remained cool, calm, collected. The crowd continued to press forward, filling the spacious square to the brim. As if they all shared one mind, they shuffled about, wedging bodies against bodies.

From above they looked like a many headed creature, wriggling about, made up of thousands of parts, twisting and turning in on itself as it filled every available inch with its coiling mass. Those who had already found their spots marched in place, feet pitter pattering in time with the rotating siren.

All their dead eyed, half-lidded gazes stayed focused on the white hot orb of light. They all blinked at once, lids twitching in the hive minds approximation of a blink. Some of the more sensitive candidates' eyes watered as they kept their pin-prick pupils glued to that one spot, the one that they just knew something would show up from. Deep in the back of each and every person’s mind was a single thought, ‘Wait…’

One moment the stage was empty, the next it was occupied by the most beautiful forms the crowd had ever seen. They couldn’t make out any features or details but they all knew, instinctually, that this was a sight that could never be compared to again. All movement ceased as a collective breath was drawn in, each and every attendee pursed their lips as their eyelids fluttered.

The forms, bathed in the brilliance of the faux-sun, moved and split. Four distinct shadows emerged, shining so brightly that it hurt to look but they couldn’t bring themselves to turn away. Eyes began tearing up, from adulation and pain.

The first to emerge was a tall shapely figure, long and sensual. They wore a black dress, simple and elegant, that seemed to be made of the night sky itself, the way it absorbed the light that outlined their figure. Long, wavy hair hung down to their hips, neatly slicked back. Even though they stood in the brightest lit area the onlookers still couldn’t make out any features, deep shadows draped their face like a living, breathing censor.

Behind them the shadows moved. Not like how shadows mirror the movements of physical objects as they pass under or through a light source. Rather, they slunk out and away from one another, amorphous blobs of vastly differing sizes. They were moving masses of pure darkness, so dark they stood out against the dark night sky as light seemed to bend around them. The smallest settled to the right of the shapely figure, hovering just above the stage. It’s shadows billowed, constantly moving. The middle stayed where the shadows had emerged from, floating up and sitting just above the head of the first figure. The last, and largest, ambled off to the left, plonking down on the stage with a heavy thud. Rumbles rippled out and away from the large shadow, disrupting the marching of the closest bodies momentarily.

The tall figure, dress billowing softly in a non-existent breeze, raised their arms. All eyes followed the sensual, graceful movement. Flicking their wrist and turning their hands out at the breathless crowd the siren ceased. The attendees sank and took a seat, packing themselves in and propping one another up, squeezing in to make as much room as physically possible.

The light dimmed, casting shadows all around the large square.

Taking their moment, the figure slowly surveyed the rapt crowd. With a slow, deliberate inhale, they took in the smells of the assembly. Then they exhaled, chest dropping as the air seeped out.

“I am Camarin, one of the Named and Speaker of the Tu’i,” the figure's voice was powerful, commanding, womanly. She spoke and they listened, heads lolling ever so slightly as they enjoyed the nirvana her voice bestowed.

“We are here today to announce the Advent of the 12th. With this next tournament we will grow the ranks of the Tu’i. Rejoice, for you may yet witness the birth of the next regent.”

A cheer rose. Wild, ululating screams as every attendees arms lifted simultaneously. Some screamed out of fear, some screamed just because the others were screaming, all cheered because they truly, deeply felt a strange happiness welling within their guts. Even the candidates, uninitiated and wholly unaware, let loose cries of praise. Small thoughts niggled at the back of their minds, doubts quickly crushed by the fervent adulation that shook the packed square.

Camarin held up a slender hand, pinky and ring finger missing. The screams died down instantly.

“Soon, the tournament will commence. As the currents converge we will all witness and bask in the glory of the newest member of the Tu’i.”

Another round of raucous cheering. Most of the faces, pale and listless, weren’t even really sure why they were cheering anymore. But their bodies acted on the instinctual pull.

Her features still shadowed despite the spotlight that stared down at her, a shadowy smile creased Camarin’s full lips. Her eyes glowed a menacing purple.

“Soon we return.”

Behind her the amorphous shadowy blobs fizzled, wavering before figures stepped out of them. Clothed in shadow, the figures remained featureless. One was the short, lithe figure of a woman, poofy locks of hair braided and twisted. Her shadowed face, featureless, was somehow still able to convey her contempt, filling every onlooker with the knowledge that she was here out of obligation, nothing more. The other was a giant blot, a blackened mass that seemed to absorb all light as tiny currents of mana traced a tapestry of tatau, breaking and curling, writhing and dancing across their large canvas.

As the last shadowy figure stepped out of their blob every attendee, including Camarin and the other two figures, shifted onto their knees. A dreadful, oppressive aura pressed them all down, necks straining even as their foreheads were forced deeper and deeper into the ground. The light from the shining orb flickered once, twice, then winked out of existence as all light ceased to exist. All the attendees could hear were the soft thunk-thunks of the figures footsteps ringing against the hollow stage. Fear curdled their stomachs as they blinked, unsure of whether their eyes were open or closed.

“My people,” spoke a soothing voice, infinitely deep and all-knowing. “My children. And my guests. Celebrate with me.”

“Tamai!” a chorus of voices answered, each and every one knowing the necessary word even if they weren’t sure how.

______________________________________

Light shined through the sliding window, illuminating the bare torso of a young man. Arm thrown carelessly over his head, his shoulders rose and fell as he snored. A light, mellow breeze wafted in through the open window, tickling the back of his throat as his mouth hung open.

With a soft, wet thud a wadded, soaked hand towel landed in his mouth.

“Pleugh!” he spat the thing out, raising his arms above his head and grabbing his pillow before rolling over, facing the wall.

“Wake up!” a young woman’s voice called from an adjoining bathroom. “Brother, wake your ass up.”

Another wet thud as a second towel stuck to his back. Cool water slid down along the tatau that ran down his posterior, tracing the outlines as the droplets raced towards the bed. He shivered as a third, much larger, dripping wet towel landed right between his shoulder blades. Flopping about, he grunted, jiggling as he jumped out of the small bed, swooping up the wet bundle and throwing it blindly in the direction of the bathroom.

His wild throw smacked against the wall, water splashing and spraying as the towel slowly slid down the panel. Huffing, his cheeks flared as his vision focused. Before he could react another wet mass slammed into his nose.

“Mmnrfhn!”

Water trickled down his face, dribbling off his chin as the towel fell away.

“All right!” he grumbled, ducking and covering his face with his tatau covered arms as another wet towel flew by. “I’m up!”

“Good, ‘cause you stink. Hurry up and get ready,” the young woman stepped out of the bathroom, ducking a flapping projectile as it plunked against the wide open door. She chuckled as she quickly twisted her thick mane of hair into a bun, tying it down with a band.

“Sis,” growled the brother.

The young woman turned, tatau on her arms flaring to life as she snatched the towel he’d flung out of the air and whipped it about. With a smooth pivot she flung the thing back at her brother. Instead of letting go she held on to it. The other end, heavy with water, lashed out like a whip. She smiled, lips parting to show her slightly crooked teeth, as she enjoyed the surprise and anguish that crossed her brother's face as his soft nethers were lifted, painfully, by the impromptu whip.

“Blagh!” he fell to a knee, clutching his bits.

“Maybe that’ll wake you up. Get ready!” the young woman turned on the balls of her feet and left her brother nursing his pain on the floor.

---

The siblings ambled along the awning lined street, sandaled feet slapping the dusty tiles as they walked. The young woman was busy studying a small disk that hung from a string around her neck. The young man scowled as he walked, adjusting his pants every few steps to try and alleviate the discomfort that lingered in the pit of his stomach.

“715,” the young woman mumbled. The numbers lit up on the flat surface of the disk as she ran a finger along it. “I guess it’s easier to keep track of numbers.”

She flipped it over and read the fine print that ran along the bottom of the thing. Well she didn’t exactly read it, just looked over the strange glyphs. They resembled Sanskrit, wavy and bunched together.

“You think they’ll call us by the numbers?” the young man fiddled with his obsidian disk, nowhere near as interested as his sister. He poked at it with the long, filed nail of his pointer finger. A solid, metallic clink-clink echoed as an odd humming vibration ran up his finger and the surface lit up with the numbers 1202. The thing ran on mana and it emitted minute traces when jostled. Faint lines ran up his tatau covered arm as the mana traced the patterns.

“Maybe,” 715 squinted as they stepped out from beneath the refuge of the awnings and into the bustling square. Members hurried to and fro, busy with their daily work while the various candidates milled about aimlessly.

Despite having spent a little over two weeks on the island thus far the siblings still found the clash of colors surprising. The Conglomerate uniforms were drab and muted, lifeless. It gave the members a drained feel, as if they were all ghosts just floating along. In stark contrast the various candidates breathed life into the surroundings with their brilliant colors. Rich reds, balmy blues, luxurious lavenders, every candidate seemed to pop. Life surrounded them.

“It’s still so weird how dull they look,” 715 rubbed her chin as they passed a pair of members. Masked and gloved, both of them looked like characters out of a movie the two siblings had watched as children. The masks looked heavy, wrapping all the way around their heads in a snug fit. Little tufts of hot air occasionally blew out of well-hidden vents lining the back. The most striking thing about them were the large tinted goggles that covered the middle. They gleamed maliciously under the hot orange sun.

“How can they wear all that? It’s hot as balls all the time!” 1202 pulled on his trusty sun hat, making sure his wide brim hung low over his face.

A group of foreigners passed them, all chanting and blabbering in their heavy tongue. 1202 smiled and nodded as he accepted a heavy golden bracelet one of them handed to him.

“These stupid palangi, giving away perfectly good mats,” he chuckled as he slipped the item into his pocket, folding it carefully into a secret pocket he sewed into all of his clothes.

715 accepted a light, finely linked necklace. She wore a gracious smile as she teased a blush out of the pink skinned foreigner. The smile fell away as she turned to her brother.

“At least we can sell this shit,” she dropped the necklace into her brother's waiting hand. She could feel the foreigners confused, heated stare as little goosebumps of awareness prickled on the back of her neck. She flexed her shoulders back and forth, trying to cover up the little shivers of disgust.

The pair approached a large open-air training facility. Candidates flowed in and out of the area, many dripping with sweat. An air of excitement permeated and caught the siblings attention.

“Hey,” 1202 nodded at a member, in all their drab glory, standing near the entranceway. “What’s going on? More people here than usual.”

“You guys didn’t hear? They announced the Advent of the 12th. They’re expanding the upcoming tournament,” the voice was androgynous due to the mask. It had a metallic quality to it and gave no clues to the member’s identity.

The siblings raised their eyebrows simultaneously and cocked their heads slightly as they tried to parse the meaning of the members words.

“What’s the Advent?” 715 asked, tone quiet and childish.

The member scoffed, chortling lightly. The siblings could feel the member’s hidden eyes looking them over.

“New Tu’i’s gonna be picked from you lot. So everybody's real motivated.”

The siblings eyebrows rose further, wrinkling their unblemished foreheads.

“Nuff talk kids, I don’t get paid enough to stand around and watch you candies slack off.”

A husky feminine voice drew the attention of the siblings and the member. Candidates veered away from the large woman, her shoulder muscles rippling as she dusted crumbs off her chest. She chewed loudly, lips smacking as she sized the pair up. Her tank top, dirty and speckled with sweat, was tucked into a pair of uniform pants. They would be loose fitting on anyone else but on this specimen of a woman they barely contained her muscular legs.

“Come on, ain’t got all day. My time is precious,” she smiled as her eyes seemed to gleam maliciously. Tiny wrinkles formed around her eyes but the smile was miles away from touching them. The tatau that covered her lower jaw enhanced her predator's smile.