If something is important enough for the story but spoken in the native language, and I think it should be known what is being said to the reader, I will place the translation like [this] after the speech marks. I hope you enjoy the story.

Thick musk of smoke and the scent of drink filled the air, mixing into a sort of invisible smoke which surrounded the people. No matter where you stood or moved, the intoxicating scent of native wine or alcoholic beverages would assault you. Across beds of fur, women lay. One would hold a long pipe in her hand, a small, rounded pit at the end of which she would place some herb. Then another, with a smaller burning stick, would put the flame to the herb and set it alight.

Hundreds lay around like this, cuddled in the warmth of the fur and comfort of drink and drugs. Hundreds more stood, their hips swaying and feet pounding the dirt as they flung themselves around the outer edges of the gathered people. This circle of people, despite the harshness of the night air, were nude. Cold, though, did not bother them, instead complimenting their bare forms as the heat of fire flooded over them.

Through the thick air and weaving between dancers, women walked. Around their wastes, long strands of tanned coloured grass walked. Upon their brown flesh, red and white patterns showed stories of crooked figures, weapons and bloodstreams. Legends of long-forgotten war and heroes were told, but not one woman stayed long enough in place for one account to be fully seen and understood.

Upon their heads, skulls sat. Some of the monsters, others of mysterious beasts not known to the wisest of imperial scholars. Others wore more gruesome décor—heads of what looked like humans, their flesh long decayed and peeled from their former bodies. Their costumes were immaculate, made with love and practice, which showed how often these living pictures had been put together before.

Weaving amongst the dancers, whose outfits again showed artistry worth much praise, the women moved with bowls of herbs. One of the women stopped, offering a bowl to a group of women. With quick thanks, one of the women leaned forward and took a handful of the herbs. Swiftly she returned to her place of rest and began to use her fingers to tear apart the herb and place a bit onto the rounded bowl at the end of the pipe.

Flames from the fire licked the sky. Among the chaotic sounds of feet slamming against dirt, screams, war cries, cheers, and chirps of excitement and praise all complimented the drums and exotic dancers who flung themselves around the flames. Flames of which rose so high into the air, from the lying positions of the women it seemed the fire caressed the stars themselves.

Decorated in feathers, wildflowers of the desert and jungle surrounding them, and long strands of corded grass adorned these dancers. These long grass stands hung from the sides of their hips, emphasising their natural curves. They move with sensual grace and elegance, which only emphasised their natural beauty.

The drums began to slow to a monotonous, shallow beat.

The women in the skull headdresses, alongside the dancers, broke from their circles and moved to intermingle with the women who sat around the flames. Many now sat upright, their eyes lingering on a small part of the circle that a path of leaves had breached. Amongst the shadows, flickers of light broke the darkness. Moving down the path, the touch light mixed with that of the central fire, and now brought the figures carrying it into the light.

She was tall, her face painted in markings of red, white and black. Head held high; she walked with a natural elegance. White paint covered her brown body, and red markings of lines were painted over it as a second layer. Upon her head, a bronze headdress sat with a golden beak protruding from the front. Women bowed their heads and gave small but clear nods of respect as their Chiefess passed them.

Eyes of the crowd turned to her as she walked, and more eyes moved behind her to the woman who carried the flaming torches. The four women slowly walked, in time to the drums as they followed nobly behind their leader. Each wore their own headdress and body paint, each the colours of the clan they led.

As the drums thumped, their feet hit the ground. Reaching the front of the leaf path, they stopped momentarily. Looking over her people, the Chiefess the fire. Around it, in a cross formation with one on each side of the fire, there was a wooden pole dug deep into the dirt. Taking in a deep breath, she stepped forward.

As she moved towards the flames, two clan leaders flanked each side of her. Still in time, to the drums, the women moved around the inside of the circle. By now, all smoking pipes had been extinguished, and all drink placed to the side. From their lying positions, they had now moved to kneel as the hundreds of eyes followed the Chiefess as she came to stand only a few meters from the flames.

Digging her left heel into the ground, her long black hair flicked with the wind as she swivelled on her foot to look back to the path. Carefully, she watched from the corners of her vision as the clan leaders slipped from her sight. Again, she turned her gaze forward, and now she listened. Just past the beating of the drums, she heard the sand stop shift under the feet of the four women as they stopped at the poles painted in the patterns and colours of their clan.

Monstrous moans and wild grunts came from the darkness. Down the path, the noises only grew louder as several figures shifted into the fire’s light. A woman, tall in structure, came forward. Upon her head, a red feather headdress and her body painted in the same white paint as the Chiefess, the difference here being the giant red dragon wings spouted across her stomach.

This was the high priestess.

Her right hand gripped a staff, the other the hand of a young man, no older than twenty. He followed sheepishly alongside her. Despite his legs trembling, the Chiefess could see he tried his best to stand tall and noble. As they moved closer, the sauces of the beastly moans and growls came into the light.

Women, yet from appearance alone, that was impossible to tell. From where you may wear sleeves of tattoos along your arms, they instead wore what they saw to be more intimate sleeves which caught the favour of their dark god. Human flesh was sown into them, coating their arms in patches of awkward metal and cloth stitches and dotted colours of white, black and brown skin.

For where you may have trouser legs, they instead wore more of these demonic tapestries of human flesh sown into their skin. Their chests and backs were so cut that any sign of soft skin was gone, replaced with crude scars and sold hardened flesh. For where you may have hair and of which would be in a style unique to you, their hair was different. In fact, they had no hair of their own.

In place of their own natural hair, they had sown into their scalps the scalps of others. Tattered and worn strands of black, red and brown hair were made into a gruesome and macabre headdress implanted into their scalps. They spoke no language like ours or even that of the Chiefess’s people. Instead, they barked in this mangled, grumbled langue which was almost impossible to tell between a growling beast and a wild dog.

Lastly, their teeth were nothing like ours. For where the Incisors were meant to line our gums, they had instead been sharpened into fangs of narrow, straight spikes. There were four of these creatures in total. Bound in rope, they were dragged forward by several warriors. Smirks and small bouts of laughter came from the crowd as they stared at these beasts.

There was no sympathy, only a built-up anger now being released through their glares and sneers at the beasts. Keeping hold of the man’s hand, the High Priestess kept him close to the side as they reached the opening. Before the fire, the High Priestess moved to the side, allowing the warriors to drag the demons past.

From the darkness, seven more figures appeared. All wore body paint which was the same as the high priestess, but they lacked the tall feather headdress, and in front of the six women, one walked. She was wrapped in a large handmade cloth, on which were elaborate paintings, but one was more prominent than the others. It covered the torso area of the fabric. Drops of grey rain move within a whirlpool. Intertwined with these raindrops were flames. The rest of the cloth were deep bars of red and bright white.

As the four demons past the Chiefess, one leaned over and spat down at her feet. The Chiefess gave her no notice as she watched the woman dragged behind her and to one of the wooden poles, cackling the whole way as she kicked and screamed with what she couldn’t tell was joy or fear. Being such vile creatures, it was not out of the question that their cackles were a mix of both.

Turning her eyes back to the High Priestess, she followed her as she walked around her and out of sight, and the group of seven close behind her. Walking around the flames, the Chiefess turned her gaze to the crowd. Silent, they stared on, their eyes following each of her movements. Turning her gaze to her left, she stared at the monster who had been placed behind her.

Her arms were bound to her sides; the rope used to drag her was now repurposed to attach her to one of the wooden poles. Screaming and kicking, she gave an almost inhuman hiss at the women as they stepped back. The four women stood bound, and before them, a clan leader holding a flaming torch.

Once on the other side of the flames, the Chiefess’s eyes again fell onto the young man. He was twenty, maybe twenty-one. Gently, the High Priestess led the man to a stone. It was about two meters long, a meter wide, and another tall. Still, even as she turned to him and began to help him lay on the stone, he tried his best to keep a stoic and proud expression on his face, yet the underlying fear was still visible.

Sitting his nude body on the side of the altar, he looked to the High Priestess again as if looking for reassurance. Reaching forward, she gently caressed his hair before placing her hands on his shoulders and helping him to lie on the stone. His body shivered against the cold rock, and his eyes met with that of the woman wrapped in cloth. Doing her best to smile, she gave him a look of reassurance.

But much like him, her fear was also apparent to everyone who watched. One of the Priestess took his left leg, another to his right, and then one to each of his arms. A fifth gently placed her hands behind his head and supported it. The woman wrapped in cloth stood between his spread legs, her eyes staring down at his face before drifting down to his lower regions.

A woman walking through the crowd was one of the women who wore a skull on her head. This skull was that of what looked to be a wolf. In her hands, she held a large wooden bowl. Walking past the women of the crowd, she arrived at the side of the High Priestess. Bowing her head, the woman offered the bowl to the High Priestess. Giving a slight nod of thanks to the girl, the High Priestess accepted the bowl from the girl. Quickly the girl scamped back to the crowd as the High Priestess held the bowl high into the night sky. Parting her black-painted lips, she began to speak.

“Ke jemo nar, ni re'I he'ol tesenoi I re'tero,” [We gather here on this most sacred of nights]

As she did so, the eyes of the Chiefess locked with that of the man on the altar. Drifting his gaze from the Chiefess, he stared at the woman in the cloth again. As this broke of eye contact, the Chiefess turned to her front. Bound to a wooden pole and drooling past her wooden gag like a wild beast, the woman stared at her.

“Ta’Etasose,” The voice of the High Priestess came from her side. Turning, the Chiefess’s eyes met with those of the High Priestess. In her hands, she held the bowl. Stretching her arms out towards the Chiefess, she offered the strong-smelling substance to her.

Carefully she took the bowl from the high priestess, and even as she did this simple action, there was still a natural grace to her movements. Glancing forward again to the beast bound to the pole, she saw her eyes. Those rotten, disgusting eyes. All signs of humanity, empathy, fear, or emotion other than their vile rage and hunger were gone.

Lifting the large drink bowl to her lips, the Chiefess took a long sip. Holding the bowl with one hand, she raised it to her side as she approached the first woman. Moving so that she stood inches before her, she leaned closer to the beast. Simply smirking, she stepped back and offered the drink to the first of the clan leaders.  

“Sceni,” The ever naturally gentle yet stern voice of the Chiefess spoke, the crowd hanging on her every word as their eyes now followed her.

Not lowering her flaming torch, the woman took a small swig of the drink. But she did not swallow, instead allowing the liquid to sit in her mouth. Swiftly, yet not hurrying and keeping her upright, noble posture, she moved around the flames to the next clan leader. Lifting the drinking bowl to the woman’s lips, she spoke again.

“Teut hoothra,” she spoke in her native language as the second clan leader took a sip and allowed it to sit in her mouth. She again moved around the flames, offering the bowl to the lips of the third clan leader.

“Au’t hoothra,” As the third took her sip, the Chiefess stood before the last woman and lifted the bowl to her lips again.

“Teut Sceni,” with these final words, she stepped away from the flames. Circling the fire, she repeated the words, but this time significant magnitudes louder, as if screaming to some high being for attention.

Sceni Teut hoothra Au’t hoothra Teut Sceni [Life leads to death, and death leads to life]

Upon the last word, the Clan leaders raised their flaming torches high. Spitting the alcoholic drink forward caused an almost cloud-like smoke to briefly spout from them and engulf the woman in front of them. As it covered them, they raised their torches. Catching the tails of these clouds, the flames shot forward.

But where usually, these flames would quickly devour the alcohol in the air and extinguish, these flames were carried forward. As if assisted by some unseen force, they engulfed the women bound to the poles. Devouring them, the flames began their work. Their flesh boiled and melted as the flames consumed them, the unseen force only lifting the flames higher into the air as if curling them into a tornado.

 Their cackling continued, though. The pain was so meaningless and insignificant as they kicked and cackled. Only when the unseen entity dragged the flames to be at least thirty meters tall did the cackles and screams stop. As the souls seemed to leave the women’s flesh, the fires began to twist and turn again.  

As if pushed by inviable hands, it leaned back into the flames. The Four flaming pillars reached into the central fire so high that to those on the ground, it seemed even to touch the full moon which hung above them. Moulding and twisting, the now joint flames turned into a shape. First, what looked to be a flower, then what seemed to be some twisted mix of human and wolf, before the body began to solidify.

It was human in nature but almost too perfect to be called so. Lowering itself, the flaming woman began to turn as if looking around. A tight feeling gripped the Chest of the Chiefess as the featureless face of the creature turned to her. Despite having no visible eyes, she felt its gaze fixed on her. Reaching to her belt, she took out a small bone knife.

She swiftly took the knife from her waistband and placed the blade in the palm of her hand. Cutting down, her blood tricked from the wound and onto the white sand. As it dyed the sand, the figure swooped down. The large hands of the flaming woman enclosed her, but the Chiefess stood stoic, not allowing even a slight tinge of fear to leak from her.

Leaning its smooth face down to the hand of the Chiefess, the bottom half of the creature’s face dropped. A single drop of blood hit the tongue of the figure. A long, snake-like tongue exited the mouth and lulled under the bleeding hand.

“Ahhh,” A long, satisfied sigh came from the flaming mouth of the creature.

“Rashari Ti,” [Royal Blood} it hissed at her.

Recoiling, it shrunk back into the flames. Slowly, like a wolf exiting its den, a miniature, more human-sized version of the beast crawled from the fire. It moved over the sand and towards the Chiefess, sliding close to the ground as it crept closer and closer. The Chiefess stood just over six feet tall, yet since this beast towered over her, she guessed it to stand at least two feet taller than her.

The flaming figure moved around her in a motion which was a mix between flying and dancing. Leaning closer, the figure stared into the eyes of the Chiefess.

“Shal nas tuj?” [Same as last time?] the figure questioned. Taking in a deep breath, the Chiefess looked up at the face of the beast. Her heat resonated over the skin of the Chiefess, making her want to take several steps back instinctively, but she knew doing so would maybe insult the beast.

“Teugi,” her throat was dry as she tried to speak, “Teugi hashire remati,” [I wish to request something]

Tilting her head, the figure drifted around the Chiefess before again arriving at her front.

“Oh? Melaol, hashire,”[Oh? Go, wish] the woman hissed to the Chiefess.

“Teugi hashire tas'far tuja,” the beast was silent at the Chiefess’s words.

Leaning back, a cackle escaped past its flaming lips. It seemed to go on for an eternity. It seemingly found her question so amusing that it took itself several minutes to relax and calm down. For what seemed like a second, the flaming beast took in an oddly needed gasp of air.

“Teugi He'oi,” [I like where this is going] the beast answered, slivering past the Chiefess so that their backs almost touched. Lifting one of her flaming arms, she pointed to the man on the alter.

“Sanari?” the beast hissed, and the Chiefess nodded. The man on the altar shivered. From the mouth of the beast, even on the expressionless face, he saw the faint details of a smile appear. The beast fell forward. As her flaming flesh hit the ground, she disappeared.

The woman in the cloth stood rigid as warmth overtook her. Even though of her twenty-five years of life, she had grown much accustomed to the thirty-five Degree Celsius heat of the day; she felt herself begging to sweat heavily. From behind her, long, slender flaming arms wrapped over the cloth. Though it did not burn her, the fabric seemingly vanished as the flames vaporised it.

Another small cackle came from the burning figure.

“Teugi he'oi ta'is,” [I like you] the beast whispered as her hands wandered from her waist, past her chest, shoulders and then to her mouth.

In a sudden push, her fingers slotted into the mouth of the woman. The burning flesh of the beast turned and twisted up the woman’s body. From the tip of her finger, which pressed to the lips of the woman, she began to rise around the shaking woman. Tears swelled as she stared at the man on the stone. The wet ripples which flowed down her cheeks evaporated as they came in contact with the flames.

She wanted to speak or mouth some final goodbye to him, yet the flames forbade her. Still, he seemed to understand her eyes as he tried his best to give a small smile and mouth what were their native words for “I love you,”

The woman’s vision blackened, and her eyes closed. The drums had almost fallen silent as the drummers, alongside all others present, watched the now naked woman. Her eyes lazily flickered open. For where her beautiful brown eyes once were, there were now pits of flames. The woman’s softness was gone, replaced with a sense of dread which flowed over the young man.

Like a wolf, she stalked forward and onto the cold stone. Her slender legs moved up the nude body of the man. Licking her lips, her eyes scowled over his body. Without hesitation or words, her legs began to straddle his waist. Licking her lips, she descended onto the man; her tongue ran over his body as a cackle escaped her lips.

Slipping her hands down to his groin, her warm hands wrapped around his member. The flaming orbs of her eyes met with his brown eyes. He reeked of fear, yet none intervened as his hardness slipped into her. A cackle of joy burst from the woman’s lungs as she began to deprive her pleasure from the man’s sex.

Now, standing by his side, the Chiefess stared down at him. She was like a wild animal, simply bucking her hips to get her pleasure from the man. Even as he gritted his teeth, his eyelids screwed close from the relentless bucking of her hips, she gave no care for him and increased the speed and strength of her slams as her hips pounded against him.

Still, she rode him, and with little regard for his well-being, she dragged her nails down his chest. As his hips thrust up, she felt his warm seed enter her. Moaning, the woman sat back with a look on her face as to say, “Is that it?”

Glancing at the Chiefess, she nodded.

“Tu Tuji,” she spoke, and the Chiefess stepped forward. Her hands gripped around her bone knife. The drums began to rise as her hands lifted higher and higher above the man, and the knife aligned with his chest.

Her hands plummeted down. A gasp escaped from the man’s lips as the knife plunged into his chest. Quickly, she ripped her hands to the side, opening his chest. The possessed woman leaned forward as his crimson blood flowed from his chest. Softly she chanted in her crude language. A blue, smoky gas rose from the man’s chest. Flowing upwards, it landed in her hands.

Lifting her hands to her mouth, she allowed the gas to pass by her lips. Once it was gone, she slowly lifted herself from the man. Stumbling slightly, she found her footing and looked to the Chiefess.

“Nes mar,” [thanks for the meal] the woman walked closer to the Chiefess. Lifting her arms, she rested them on the shoulders of the Chiefess.

“Se pe hashire,” [as for your wish] the creature placed her lips to the ear of the Chiefess.

“Yar Nakopari Nul,” [six years end] Stepping back, the creature stared into the eyes of the Chiefess. Her confusion must have been clear to the beast as it let out a bellowing laugh which echoed over the tribe. Hopping back and almost skipping towards the fire, the creature only cackled and giggled like a child.

“HARO!” [WAIT!] The Chiefess barked over to the beast, giggling it only moved towards the flames, giving her no notice.

[THAT DOES NOT ANSWER MY REQUEST! WHAT OF OUR FUTURE!] the Chiefess screamed towards the cackling beast.

[IN THREE MONTHS, SIX YEARS COME TO AN END! THIRTY MORE OF CHAOS BEGIN DRAGON BLOOD!] The beast screamed back while throwing its arms into the air. Throwing her arms down, her hands clapped. As soon as the palms collided, thunder cracked, and drops of rain began to trickle down onto the tribe.

The flaming pits of her eyes dulled as the human body fell to the ground. Her lips cracked open, and from it slivered a flame. Like the lying snake the beast was, it slivered towards the fire. Once the snake disappeared into the flames, the fire began to die down as the intensity of the rain only rose. Soon, all was left where the timbers of the once great fire.

Silent, the Chiefess glared towards where the fire had once sat.  

Several women ran to the aid of the girl possessed by the beast. Helping her to her feet, they assisted her to a small sitting area. As this happened, women with large clay and wood jugs, canisters and pots gathered to gather the water.

[As expected of the Goddess of trickery] the High Priestess spat. Still, the Chiefess stood silent. Six years will end, and thirty of chaos will start…what did it mean? Lifting her hands, she stared down at the blood which clung to her skin.

Even as the rain fell onto it, the blood stubbornly held on to her. Leaping forward, she slammed her fist into the stone altar. Screaming and barking insults in her native tongue, she attacked and hit her knuckles against the stone. Throwing her arm back, ready to strike again against the rock, an arm locked with hers. Swivelling, she saw one of the clan leaders.

[Let go, Cluupyte] her voice was almost a growl. She did as the Chiefess commanded.

[Calm yourself, you’re in public] Smothering her fear, she stepped back and looked to the Priestesses who had been holding the man.

Giving them a simple nod, she walked away from the alter. Close behind her, the four clan leaders followed her towards a small hut which sat just at the edge of the ritual site. Reaching it, each entered.

The lifeless corpse of the man was lifted from the altar. Even as blood pooled from it, they carried it around the crowd. Women came forward, kissing his hand or placing their forehead against his as they spoke to him words of thanks. Eventually, the body came back to the woman who had been possessed.

Taking his head in her hands, she kissed his forehead as tears streaked down her cheeks. Again words of thanks came from the crowd and the woman as his body continued down the line.

[Well, with how things are, it is better than sitting around and waiting to die] one of the clan leaders spoke as she came to stand near the Chiefess. The High Priestess spat to her side.

[If not for the Chiefess asking for assistance, I would have branded you a heretic Nolkonoe,] the High Priestess retorted.

[It worked last time, if not for the sacrifice, our huntresses would have been slaughtered by the Raiders] another of the clan leaders spoke. Before the High Priestess could retort, the Chiefess spoke.

[When does the next Merchant Caravan arrive?]  

[In three months, your majesty] Nolkonoe spoke. It all seemed to click with each of them. With the words of the Goddess, it was clear that their answer would arrive in three months.

As they all huddled around the exit of the hut, the Chiefess stared down at her crimson-dyed hands. She prayed that the death would be worth whatever was to come.