So this "Tuke" would be the key to breaking the situation.
Thinking of this, Skala couldn't sleep at all.
He pretended to be tired, sent his trusted followers away, and turned to enter his own tent.
A moment later, Skala quietly emerged again.
He wrapped the divine emblem in a piece of animal hide, leaving only the top braided cord exposed, to avoid attracting "Tuke's" attention.
The camp's night was very dark.
The bonfires weren't burning high, with only a few still faintly glowing.
"Tuke's" tent was not in the center, but among a row of tents on the west side, near the low ground.
He shared it with several trolls who had recently agreed to convert, on the grounds of conveniently "listening to their questions."
Skala crouched behind a distant snow dune, squinting at that area.
Before long, he saw "Tuke" emerge from the tent, followed by a young hunter, a boy who had joined midway, having lost his tribe, no older than fifteen.
The two walked almost silently, and without torches.
"Tuke" walked to an abandoned stone tablet at the very edge of the camp, gently pressed his hand on it, then turned around, looked at the boy, and began to speak.
Skala couldn't clearly hear what they specifically said.
He only vaguely heard words like "seven days," "guidance," and "Tok-Aak."
The boy's face showed extremely unusual expressions, first bewilderment, then confusion, then fear—but finally, it slowly became devout and peaceful.
After "Tuke" finished speaking, the boy knelt on both knees, bowing his head three times in the snow, as if swearing an oath to some invisible entity.
Then he stood up and smiled.
He whispered something, and Tuke replied with a smile.
They were like master and apprentice, like father and son, and also like… a believer and a preacher.
Skala's fingers tightened around the bone blade in the snow.
In that instant, he suddenly realized:
This wasn't the first time Tuke had done something like this.
He was instilling a form of faith that belonged neither to His Majesty the Dragon God nor to the loa.
No divine name, no divine emblem, only words and… prophecy.
His "prophecies" were ridiculously accurate—because as soon as he spoke, they would become reality.
Just like the murals.
Just like the fire that burned the shrine.
Skala seized upon this fleeting inspiration:
"Tuke" was very likely the will of the corruption itself, wearing human skin and entering their ranks.
He didn't have his "memory" tampered with—he was the thing that tampered with memories!
Skala stood at the edge of the camp, observing "Tuke" for a long time.
At the other end of the bonfire, "Tuke" still sat beside that stone tablet.
In the snowy night, his figure remained motionless.
But if one looked closely, they would find that the end of the bone staff in his palm was repeatedly carving a certain pattern on the snow.
Initially, it was one circle.
Then a second circle, a third circle.
Each circle deviated slightly from the last, narrowing inward, yet twisting outward.
It was a spiral.
Skala had seen this spiral, and twice.
The first time was in the Mammoth's totem house, and the second was the bone charm Toka showed him.
Skala tightened the animal hide, taking out the bone blade that had accompanied him since he first left Tok-Aak.
That was what he used to survive when there was no loa.
He circled around the snowdrift, approaching from the leeward side.
"Tuke" remained motionless, only a low sound rumbling from his throat, as if chanting, or as if narrating.
Every sentence carried a viscous sense of repetition, as if spoken to someone, yet also to everyone.
Skala stopped five paces behind him.
"Tuke" spoke, his tone gentle, as if responding to an old friend's sigh in the night:
"So late, you can't sleep either?"
Skala said nothing.
"Tuke" turned his head slightly, revealing half of his face, wrinkled by wind and snow, his gaze still holding a familiar calmness.
"You weren't like this before, Skala."
He sighed softly, as if somewhat worried: "You really are too tired lately. We all know you've carried too much."
"But haven't you always told us—to judge everything only in the daytime?"
He raised a hand and pointed to the sky: "Look, it's not dawn yet."
Skala tightened his grip on the bone blade.
"Tuke" did not stand up, only spoke as if advising an angry junior: "You are too vigilant."
"I know what you're thinking. What you see, what you dream… that's not your fault. Dreams can confuse all of us."
He paused, his voice even lower:
"You should trust yourself, not suspect everyone."
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