Close to the Chest: War of the Creators, #1

By Chris Eckhart

In an instant, love was stolen from me, and with it, my once-hopeful perspective on life vanished into the abyss. Now, Vengeance's merciless grip defines my existence. My sole purpose to hunt down the man who turned my beloved into ashes, denying her any chance at resurrection.

Living for thousands of years, my memories have become distant, slipping through my mind like time's sand through my fingers. I can only hold fragments at a time, mere snapshots of our love story that spanned nearly a millennium. Even after she's been gone for so long, she still possess my heart, the tattered remains of it.

I'm getting sober now, training again, I will regain what I've lost, ensuring I have a chance of avenging my love, or joining her. I'm writing these books, to remember, to remember meeting Liva for the first time, our first kiss, the life we shared as we grew together. Writing this down while the feelings still have stories behind them, before they're just unknowable reactions to stimulas I can't understand.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Eckhart
• Release date: Nov 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9781778250613

Book preview

Close to the Chest

By Chris Eckhart

Prologue

Watching my love die felt the same as losing half my soul. The mere thought continued to stir an overwhelming rage within me. It was so intense I could almost taste its bitterness, reminiscent of the metallic flavor of blood in my mouth. My jaw clenched, and my teeth ground together. The tension grew so palpable I could feel myself trembling, desperately attempting to maintain control. Amidst this fury, there was only one individual to blame, the very man who robbed me of Liv. He reduced her to ashes, ensuring she could never return—Artimos. Nothing would deter me from reducing him to ashes in return. As I witnessed my beloved disappear into the wind, my resolution solidified.

Liv was a true believer in the ways of the Oranthis. Her upbringing was full of stories and tales of the Oranthis divine greatness and The Book of the Enerai. In many cultures, these stories were common knowledge. Every child knew about the five powerful Oranthis tribes, at the very least. The most famous story was about the first ascension when, after a lifetime of training and study, the Tribesmen were allowed to become like gods, immortal.

Liv was far from a fool but believed wholeheartedly in the old ways. She even tried to convince me the horrible experience of watching her ascent would help strengthen my faith and find peace. It didn’t. Instead, it pushed me from the Oranthis ways so far that any belief I may have had shattered. The only thing I believed in now was vengeance, fuelled by newfound hate toward one man.

People like to say time heals all wounds. I’ve found this to be nonsense. How can one recover from moments they can’t even remember? When you live for as long as I have, memories fade. My mind can only hold so much. But I am sure the stories never mentioned becoming like the Oranthis was just that, ‘like.’ It is fake – an illusion for the believers and more power for the Oranthis.

I started this journal when my nightmares began haunting me. Every night, I would toss and turn for hours. For the first year or so, I couldn’t sleep at all. When I closed my eyes, I only saw Liv’s broken body, lifeless and bloody. All I felt was empty. I have no clue how many days I spent drinking into oblivion, wishing I was dead. And I would have been happily carrying on until I achieved that. But something did happen to me with time, although it wasn’t healing. It was hatred. My new purpose was to set my vengeance upon Artimus, so I needed to gather myself.

A drunk, grieving fool was no match for someone at Artimus’ level. Before I passed out in my vomit, my last thought was: ‘he would squash me like a bug, just like Liv.’ Getting sober wasn’t the hard part. It was the nightmares. Without drinking to soothe my nerves, they started chasing me into my days. So, I wrote this journal to remind myself that things were once different. My life isn't what I imagined it would be. After becoming immortal, mostly, nothing was the same. In my book, I'm not the standard, but rather the opposite, an unusual figure that cracks God's mould. It is about my life and the things I believe. I started it always to remember and hold on to the good times. To know we were genuine. But it actually wasn’t my story I was putting into these pages, It’s hers.

My own story started when I met Liv. At least I can’t remember my life without her. She was my only love and my better half. The blood-soaked streets of her home world brought Liv to me and started our life together.

Liv told the story of what happened in bits and pieces. She never really described it to me from beginning to end. I guess there were things she did not want to remember or couldn't. Liv’s world became infected by something so horrible that labels such as ‘disease’ or ‘infection’ fall short of illustrating its ruthlessness. Whatever this was, it spread faster than wildfire – leaving just as much devastation in its wake.

There existed no possibility of recovery for those infected; a cure was non-existent. Once exposed, the infection acted swiftly, altering the victim's DNA and transforming them into something entirely different—a Turned. These Turned beings were reminiscent of monstrous creatures, driven by an insatiable thirst for blood. The infection stripped away their humanity, rendering them more akin to savage animals than the individuals they once were. Survivors of Turned attacks recounted tales of dense fur and razor-sharp teeth.

In contrast, refugees shared heartbreaking stories of their loved ones falling victim to these creatures, losing all semblance of emotion and cognitive function. They claim the infection would plunge one into madness within mere seconds. In their relentless pursuit, the Turned accelerated the spread of the disease, leaving a bloody trail of death in their wake.

The only power in all known systems that could stand against the Turned and the infection were those responsible for it. They were known by different names on different planets and across cultures. For Liv, they were the immortals, the Oranthis.

Seeing whole systems taken within days was enough to shake even the Gods. But it wasn’t until the infection and the Turned destroyed hundreds of planets that action was taken. My gut says they didn’t care about the people as much as they cared about the disease and what it could do to them. Either way, the high council declared war and recruitment for the Oranthis army began.

The Oranthis may have led the war against the infection and its monstrous outcome, but their foot soldiers were the Tribesmen. Sworn to the old ways, the Tribesmen could not refuse the Oranthis. They all had to answer the call.

The war between the Tribesmen and Turned raged across hundreds of planets for almost a millennium. Billions of lives were lost. It wasn’t Liv who told me about the war. Oh no. This part I remember all by myself. I remember it all too well.

I wrote this book to remember becoming a Tribesman and why I have nightmares. To keep the memories I will undoubtedly lose over time. Because I have lived for so long, some things are more challenging to remember even now. My family, my life before Liv and the Turned war. At times, I doubt I ever had a life before the infection. Beyond that, I carry in my mind memories that are not mine. Crazy, right? Still, it is true.

The gel packs given to me to prevent me from becoming a Turned contained the blood of a man named Wramon. Once it entered my system, his memories became my own. Something similar happened when I carried Jakrum from prison. Accidental contact with his blood flooded me with his memories. Both men lived through thousands of years of war. My mind is overflowing with images and emotions I never wanted to see and wish I couldn’t feel. Mostly, my foreign memories contain fear and rage, moments of panic and death.

One memory, in particular, would keep floating into my consciousness when my mind was too weak from drinking. I don’t know who owned this memory, but I can tell it took place after the war. They show the chain of events leading to the murder of a man named Ricardos.

Ricardos was one of several High Oranthis who stood above the rest of their tribe. He was known to be a master of deception, who could make anyone believe even the crudest lie without a shadow of a doubt. Although he’d mostly seem reserved, his nose often in a book. Ricardos had a charisma about him that served his manipulation skills well. The old tales say he and his brother were created by the first Oranthis Goddess Ke’livos, long before the Tribesmen's existence. Ke’ ment priest or priestess only awarded to those tribesmen chosen to be religious leaders amongst that tribe.

War Council

These memories always begin with a soft light emanating from the floating orbs scattered about the room. Each is about the size of a man’s fist, floating around mid-air. The room is still cast with darkness and shadows. About a dozen figures sat around an extensive oval table with a hollow centre. Most of the light orbs hung above the council table. Forming marvellous shadows on the ancient stone walls. There were no windows in the council room and only one heavy wood door decorated in gold and iron. Outside the considerable door, two Scoulja high officers stood guard. Inside, it was sealed by Oranthis Rhu. Rhu is the energy of life, summoned from within and expended to use the Tribesmen's many abilities—their souls.

The Council of Creators was assembled from the kings and leaders of each tribe. The Merispeern, the Wrathious, the Certhlavn, and Glavintov were represented by their kings and queens. Invited into the council by The Four to speak for their tribes, but they had no real power. The final decision was never theirs. The last word belonged to those who were created, not born. While the Council meetings were typically bland, they've been much more colorful since the war of the Turned. The lack of respect and structure added to the stress and frustration of those attending.

The High Priestess Lina and her twin sister Sakhundra were rumoured to have been created by the first Oranthis God Beliftar. Many believe they are the keepers of Oranthis existence. The ancient texts of the Oranthis suggest if one of them were to die somehow, the Oranthis would diminish and ultimately disappear.

Sakhundra, the High Queen of the Oranthis, is the leader of the Oranthis tribe and its sacred beliefs. The sisters possessed powers beyond imagination alongside immortality. Ke’lina was famous for her ability to see the past and future of whomever she touched, from the first moment after birth to the last before death. Sakhundra was known as vicious with unflinching resolve. The queen cared little about anything that didn’t directly serve her desire for power and control.

The first Oranthis Goddess Ke’livos created Ricardos. He and the sisters grew up together from the moment they were formed. They shared a sibling bond enforced by a millennium of shared experiences. Some might say Sakhundra was closer to Ricardos than her sister. They were a cruel pair. Together, they changed the course of history for entire civilizations. So, it was no wonder the first son of the first God was sitting to the right of the High Queen, leaning and whispering in her ear. While her sister, Ke’lina, was sitting across from her, with the General to her right.

The leader of the Scoulja warrior tribe bore the title of General, a position held by Jakrum. Unlike the Oranthis, whom the first Gods created, Jakrum's origin was unique—he was brought into existence through blood, setting the Scoulja apart from the Oranthis. Sakhundra, in particular, harbored a disdainful attitude toward the Scoulja General, always quick to remind others of their differences. However, despite this tension, the Oranthis relied on the Scoulja, a fact that Ke'lina made sure her sister never forgot. The black Rhu tribe, led by the General, boasted unparalleled skill, strength, and training.

Nevertheless, the General and his war bands faced accusations of unspeakable and unnatural war crimes. Even Sakhundra recognized the strategic value of having such a formidable army at her sister's disposal. The Scoulja were forbidden from marrying or having children due to carrying the infection, or a variant of it. Furthermore, warriors were expected to avoid familial attachments. Many Scoulja were orphaned or unwanted, sold into slavery, or recruited directly by the Scoulja themselves.

Despite that, Ke’lina and the General were in love. Their relationship differed immensely from the one shared between Ricardos and Sakhundra but was also inseparable. Ke’lina would even follow the General into battle at times. In fact, they had just arrived from the front lines to attend the council.

Both still wore their battle armour and leaned back in their chairs. The General’s face and several dried blood and dirt layers were hidden under his hood. Ke’lina looked pale and exhausted. The soft light from the orbs added shadows to the deep, dark circles under her eyes, giving her a frightening expression.

Sakhundra knew her sister was depleting her Rhu to protect and heal the warriors on the front lines.

The battle against the Turned had reached a state of desperation. The infection, spreading with alarming speed, birthed formidable and bloodthirsty creatures. Adding to the peril, when a Tribesman was bitten and transformed into a Turned, they retained much of their Rhu, rendering them faster, more intelligent, and more challenging to eliminate than the typical Turned threat.

Queen Celeste of the Merispeen gave the council the news as soon as it opened officially. Her stern voice echoed in the vast stone room.

Things are getting worse by the day. Three more planets were lost in the past month. Millions of citizens and thousands of Merispeern are either Turned or dead! She looked to Ke’lina and the General, her eyes alone showing her distress. We need to seal off the gates. It will give us time to move the civilians to safety and secure passage for the refugees!

We cannot! the Wrathious king interrupted. "The trade routes must be maintained. Wrathious tradesmen must continue to move freely through the gates, or millions will starve. He looked at Queen Celeste with contempt. What good will it do to your refugees if they escape from the Turned only to die of hunger, huh?"

Queen Celeste was a patient and wise woman. Still, the arrogance of the young Wrathious was putting her patience to the test.

High Queen Sakhundra, Ricardos, Ke’lina, and the kings and queens of the tribes anxiously watched Jakrum, awaiting his response. But he acted as though they weren’t there.

Were there any survivors of planet Ubian, General? Queen Esmerelda asked.

The General remained immersed in his task, his gaze fixed upon the information displayed on the glass surface before him. Numerous galaxies floated above the council's table, projected as a visual representation. The generals' section showcased details about various planets, providing an update on their current status. With a tap of his finger, he diligently refreshed the data of several planets, continuously streaming information from the war-torn worlds.

General? King Reick insisted loudly.

The General finally lifted his gaze.

Less than one hundred people survived, but none are Tribesmen, the General responded abruptly.

What? Queen Esmerelda asked in shock. She turned to her husband. Our Tribe, our people! Reick, we have to do something!

Wasn't that one of your development planets? How many engineers lived there? Ke’lina asked.

Half of the population, both Wrathious and human alike. Many who weren't engineers were training to be. The loss is unfathomable. King Reick glared at the General, who had returned his attention to the table.

We’re losing this war, Your Highness, please. Queen Esmeralda was now talking directly to Ke’lina.

Ricardos scoffed.

Don’t scoff. High Queen Sakhundra paused. You were there as well, she scolded Ricardos.

There was nothing we could do. The alpha escaped. Ke’lina’s tone was factual, although slightly defensive, but only her sister picked up on it.

"How can she be better than us?" the Glavintov queen, Theresa, questioned.

The alpha Turned is an Oranthis, that’s how! The General’s voice echoed inside Ke’lina’s mind while his eyes focused on the data before him. The information from the front line shows she heals the Turned directly around her, with some even coming back to life.

Ke’lina scanned the others to ensure no one was aware of the silent conversation between her and Jakrum. She waited until an argument flared again and thought back, They don’t need to know our daughter is the alpha Turned. I can feel your frustration. Let me hold some of it for you and ease your mind. We need to keep this to ourselves.

...the fact of the matter is you need more unchosen. We need more soldiers. This disease is spreading faster than we can kill it. Even when we are winning, the death count of Tribesmen is too high. Do we know how this disease behaves or what it actually does? King Reick asked.

Ricardos and Ke’lina exchanged looks.

The General finally addressed the council.

The Turned virus bonds to Tribesmen blood, spreading the disease to every part of one’s body. It uses the Rhu within us to change our form; it’s most likely permanent. It changes the DNA of the infected. We’re still testing the dead and other specimens the Scoulja have captured. Jakrum’s tone was cold.

How bad are you going to let this war get, General? Queen Celeste asked with anger that everyone at the table felt.

Ke’lina laid her hand on the General’s shoulder, instilling much of her calm in him, preventing his response to the Wrathious queen's direct challenge. This tactic only partially worked. He was still thinking of killing her and the rest of the council.

Oh, how much easier things would be without the chattering of these infants. the General thought.

I agree we need more unchosen. I say we move forward with the ceremony, Ke’lina said.

Yet, Queen Celeste’s question remains unanswered, General, High Queen Sakhundra intervened.

No, Ricardos replied bluntly before Jakrum could.

No? No, what? Queen Celeste snapped back at him.

No. We will not be moving anyone. If people see evacuation efforts, they will suspect weakness amongst us. Gods do not display weakness. We will not run.

Weakness? You’re concerned about how the survivors will portray us?

The tribe leaders were in disbelief, and several conversations broke out.

Silence! Ricardos ordered. Perspective from the tribes matters very little to me. The Oranthis are strong. We will continue as planned and should hasten the schedule. Ricardos nodded at Ke’lina.

What do you suggest, Ricardos? Ke’lina asked, leaning forward.

The High Queen Sakhundra has suggested a plan that makes the most sense, he explained. We will keep all gates sealed, restricting all travel, with Certhalvyn and Oranthis at every gate. The Scoulja will clear the Turned, one planet at a time. While this situation is resolved, they will keep those planets secure and infection-free.

My sister's plan seems to be working ever so well. Perhaps a slightly different strategy should be employed. Ke’lina turned to her sister. We need to work together, given this affects us all. It is not solely up to the General. Though you’re all equally affected by this war, you're not equally participating in settling it.

You talk as if you’re not a part of us, King Reick said in surprise.

"She isn’t. We are Oranthis, High Queen Sakhundra cut in. Lock your gates. No one travels anywhere for any reason. As of now, unsanctioned interplanetary travel will be punishable by ashing or imprisonment. Ricardos, have Artimos ensure these temporary measures are enforced. The Turned can’t spread if they can’t move amongst the planets. The Scoulja will dispatch them, one planet at a time. After we halt their movements, it will be easy to eradicate them."

More planets continue to fall every day, Queen Celeste added.

To control the Turned’s movements, we should shut down the entire gate system before sweeping through when we are certain there is no possibility of escape, King Cerban said.

This is why the gates will be sealed and buried, leaving only one active gate per planet. We’ve already tried to restrict the use of the gates for everyone except for Wrathious and Oranthis. Obviously, more enhanced measures must be implemented and enforced, as many gates aren’t locked, guarded, or even monitored. Sakhundra said

Ke’lina, I heard you were on Ubain after it fell, King Reick stated.

Yes, I was there to meet the General and pass along the Oranthis orders. I’m sorry for your loss and offer my deepest condolences. That planet played an integral part in the production of technology. The General did, however, manage to save the gate to Arsydia. The other plan–

Arsydia? Who gives a shit about the resort? You have the Scoulja protecting the Wrathious’ wealth? King Cerban interrupted. The alpha made it back through the gate she came from and is still roaming free. Her whereabouts are currently unknown. She’s managed to evade Artimos, Ricardos, the General, and the large army they took with them. Is this a force any plan will see dissolved?

"You will not interrupt Ke’lina when she speaks!" Jakrum rose to his feet as black Rhu began to gather around him. Before Cerban could flinch, he found himself gasping for air. Surrounded by the Generals Rhu.

Do this again, and I will remove a limb of my choosing. The General warned King Cerban, his eyes burning with anger.

Enough! Sakhundra raised her hand, bringing an end to the argument. "You will all do as instructed and command your tribes how I decide."

The General grunted with discontent.

I have already made up my mind. Sakhundra’s words sounded casual. It will be too taxing to re-enable the network. The Wrathious will continue to travel freely for trade. Everyone else will have to present a royal travel proof. I will not allow ships to be created or travel without Oranthis knowledge. She turned to Celeste. I respect your age of ruling the Merispeern queen Celeste, but do not forget you owe it all to the Oranthis. Do not overstep again.

The Merispeern queen did not look phased by the High Queen’s words. Her back was straight, and she lowered her chin ever so slightly. Her words were more than a whisper, Yes, my queen. I only wanted to help.

The alpha Turned has already taken over some gates, claiming worlds linking back to the central Oranthis planets. The alpha is not a mere beast, so we should not underestimate her. She knows precisely what she’s doing. High Queen Sakhundra turned to her brother and added, Ricardos, I need you to create the best route for trade and supplies through our controlled systems while considering available gates. We will then close the rest. General, send Scoulja to every gate that remains active.

Should we postpone the ceremonies until we can at least control the Turned’s movements? Queen Celeste offered.

No. This time, it was Ke’lina who interjected. Her voice just as stern and commanding as her sister's. The ceremonies are more important now than ever before. We need more Tribesmen and unchosen at every ceremony this cycle. No exceptions. The ceremonies must carry on as scheduled. The High Priestess turned to look at her sister, and the room fell silent.

Very well, Sakhundra agreed, gazing back at Ke’lina. We will continue the ceremonies as planned. This means we will see each other in the fourth sector soon enough. She spoke to the General. Triple your guard and secure the planets where our training facilities are located. Only one gate remains open in those worlds. The Wrathious are to focus entirely on food and material production. Anything else will be considered treason. You will ensure this, yes? The Wrathious king and queen nodded in acceptance of their orders. The Certhlavn and the Oranthis will continue to control the gates along with all passage through them.

Sakhundra gave the council their final greeting, and the meeting adjourned. She left first with Ricardos in tow. Ke’lina and the General walked out last, allowing the other council members to drop out of earshot.

The General spoke first, softly and casually. It’s about that girl, isn’t it? You still think she can lead you to him.

Ke’lina smiled softly and took the General’s arm as they passed by the Scoulja guards posted at the main doors. I know Alya is on her way to Clentous; she knows the council will be there for the ceremony. She will not miss the opportunity to take us all at once. She leaned closer to the General and whispered, This may be our last chance to gain leverage over the prophecy.

Ke’lina paused at the end of the hallway leading to the gardens above. She turned to face the General, kissing him softly, taking his hands in hers. I need you to get me there fast and quiet. Before the others. No one can know about her. She continued walking, and the General followed suit.

Arms linked, they strolled casually past the gardens leading to the main hall. The air was warm and sweet, with a soft breeze from the six-tear waterfall at the garden’s centre. Ke’lina stalled to observe a bird or a flower. Pretending to be engaged in the garden’s beauty. As they approached the waterfall view, Ke’lina paused again. Allowing the sound of the water to cover any whispered conversations. But she said nothing.

After several minutes passed, the General turned to her. The people on Clentous don’t even know there is a war. Some rumours, perhaps, but no more. Alya is taking planets in mere hours. Are you sure it’s worth the risk?

For a long minute, Ke’lina said nothing.

The General was known for being fearless, but if one thing scared him, it was Ke’lina’s silence. She stood, looking at the waterfall with a soft, almost invisible smile. Finally, she said, These are my orders.

Of course, your grace. The General bowed his head and kissed one of Ke’lina’s hands. As you wish.

Last Pack

Mark:

Clentous, Fourth Sector

Friday night, and my week is finally over. I was exhausted by the same old repetitive, mundane, never-ending bullshit. On a happier note, it was my final year learning about technologies and how they relate to other technologies ­– and then fiddling and tinkering with them until they’re compatible. I’ll be a Wrathious engineer soon. Usually, my weekend was just as exciting as my weekdays, but I was looking forward to this one.

This evening was the first night of the ascension ceremonies week. Those from the previous choosing ceremony would return, and the Oranthis would select some to become unchosen and eventually Tribesmen. Next week, the new ascension ceremony would take place. Only one percent of the population were tested during the ceremony, and less than one percent passed.

Ascension ceremonies happened every ten years and included one week of parties and gatherings, including the Oranthis and tribes’ leaders. This was the first ceremony week I was old enough to attend; I grew up with a few of this year’s candidates. I was excited to see authentic Tribesmen; although the Wrathious controlled our planet, only the magistrate was a Tribesman, and he was rarely seen outside the capital.

Ours was a technology-industrial planet and a training facility for aspiring Tribesmen. My sister Mary and I worked for the Wrathious tech farm alongside most of the planet’s small population. Just a little over one million lived here, not including the cadets, all working on various devices using Wrathious knowledge. Our world had an abundance of everything, but the Wrathious controlled everything. The time spent working was our currency, and I worked extra to save up for this weekend.

It’s Mark time now! Not Wrathious time. I smirked at that last thought. My imagination already getting ahead of me.

I was sitting on my porch waiting for my notoriously late best friend, Picha. I pulled out my pack of cigarettes, tapping it on my palm several times to force one out. My third one since I came out here, waiting.

I lit a match and watched as a slight breeze threatened to snuff the fire. This’ll be my last pack, again. Why do I do this to myself? I knew Picha would be late, yet I’m out here waiting.

Like a sucker, I mumbled, exhaling my first drag.

Talking to yourself, Mark? My sister joined me on the porch, snatching the smoke from my lips. Though she appeared calm, her excitement was evident. Considering the night ahead, I admired her composure. Meeting actual Tribesmen had me already anxious.

I lit another cigarette. Yeah, I guess. Still waiting, as usual, I said stalely, exhaling my second first drag.

Serves you right. You know Picha’s always late. You got ready way too early, Mary said as she took another drag of my smoke.

I studied her. She looked pale, a result of working indoors for so many years. A towel wrapped around her head contained her long brown hair. Her green eyes gave the impression she didn’t take any shit; it was all in how she looked at you. I noticed her nail colour today was a deep, dark red. Not that I necessarily paid much attention to Mary’s nails, but I didn’t think I’d ever seen them that colour.

Mary was a genius, one of the top coders for Wrathious engineers. She understood things in ways I never could; mine was a mind for hardware, not coding languages.

Mary cared for me from when we were little, even more so after losing our parents. She made sure I was safe and well-fed. My sister worked hard to make this house our home. After all she’s done for us, I hoped she knew I’d always be there for her. Soon, I’d be skilled enough to be her equal and planned to repay her for everything.

We lived just outside the city in the suburban area encircling it. We were surrounded by forest, with the ocean just a stone’s throw away from the northern part of the city.

The ideology of Wrathious revolves around materialism. Our comfortable living conditions are attributable, in part, to the basic wage provided on all Wrathious planets, as well as the employment salaries. Thus, regardless of whether one works, a system is in place to ensure their well-being. However, relocating to a Wrathious-controlled world poses its own challenges. It requires passing a series of tests, which our engineer parents accomplished when they moved here. As for my sister and me, we were both born and raised in this environment.

The Wrathious engineers demanded perfection in every product. They took the products we made, replicated and then sold them. While the Wrathious lived better than those who served them, we had things most couldn’t even imagine.

I hear there’ll be Tribesmen at the party tonight, Mary told me.

Really? From which tribe? I asked.

"Merispeern,