That day, the village of Migase transformed. Gateways were draped in red and white cloth, drums were beaten without pause, and the villagers adorned themselves in their finest attire. The men wore jewelry made of shells and bone, while the women donned shimmering white silk dresses with woven sea-grass belts. Children scattered flowers along the path to the main square.
Amid the crowd, female dancers moved in harmony with the sound of flutes and drums. The dance was not merely entertainment—it was a tale of struggle, suffering, and now, rebirth.
After the performance, the villagers sat in neat rows to undergo the purification ritual. Coconut water was poured onto their heads, one by one, marking the beginning of a new life. Silence fell; reverence filled the air.
Then, Elder Hergon stepped onto the stone stage, holding a large bronze bowl already filled with the blood of the elders—a symbol that their era had ended. He looked straight at Rogg.
"The time has come, Lokahita Visaka. Let your blood fall, as a sign that you are now our leader."
Yara immediately stood. "Wait—this is too much. He just came out of battle!"
Rogg touched her arm. "It's alright. Just a little. I have to do this."
With a small blade, he cut into his palm and let the blood drip into the bowl. The elders mixed the blood and drank from it one after another.
Yara held her breath. "You're drinking his blood?"
Bala responded gently through his hand signs, "It is part of a sacred vow. A symbol that we will protect him and follow him until death."
The remaining blood was mixed with sacred water and offered to the villagers. One by one, they drank it willingly. Yara lowered her head, realizing the weight of this ceremony.
"Bala…" Rogg whispered from behind the stage. "We… we didn't plan to stay long here."
Bala's face remained calm, though his eyes were slightly tight. "I understand. But not everything you reject can be left behind so easily. At least… wait for the right time."
Rogg nodded slowly.
Soon, the crowd erupted in cheers again. The elders brought forth a large crown made of red and black pearls, gleaming under the sun.
"Rogg, kneel," said Elder Hergon.
Yara herself placed the crown on Rogg's head. Cheers exploded all around.
But it didn't end there. A second crown was lifted—this one made of blue and white pearls, adorned with a single large gem in the center.
Rogg placed it on Yara's head. "You are not just my companion," he whispered. "You are my equal."
Yara smiled. "And I'll bite you if you ever forget that."
Laughter echoed through the crowd, mingling with cheers and songs from the people of Migase. That day, two strangers were crowned as symbols of freedom and hope. No one knew where fate would take them next—but one thing was certain: Migase had changed forever.
At last, every inhabitant of Migase—from the smallest child to the oldest elder—knelt in reverence before the two figures they now recognized as their leaders: Rogg, the Lokahita Visaka, and Yara, the Vasane Devi. That day marked the beginning of a new chapter in the history of the Migase tribe.
Months had passed since Rogg and Yara settled in the Migase Valley. In that time, they had become more than rulers—they had become friends, guardians, and family to the people.
Rogg, once accustomed only to the mountains and forests, now learned the rhythm of the sea. He trained with the fishermen and hunters, joined in whale chases, observed how they navigated storms, and even fought off sharks with his own spear.
One afternoon, after a long diving session, Rogg surfaced, gasping for breath. He swam toward Bala, who was lounging on a canoe.
"Haah… Bala!" he panted. "How much longer before I can hold my breath like you? You're like a giant stingray—disappearing for fifteen minutes!"
Bala burst into laughter. "Hahaha! My king, aren't you a god? Why bother diving like the rest of us mortals?"
Rogg shook his head quickly, wiping water from his face. "How many times do I have to say it? I'm not a god. I'm a man. And this man is annoyed he keeps losing to you underwater!"
Bala chuckled, patting Rogg's shoulder. "Then keep training. But careful—not to choke on seawater."
"If I drown, you'd better be the one to save me. Remember, if your king sinks, you're in trouble too!" Rogg grinned.
Life in Migase had changed swiftly. Rogg and Yara were more than rulers now—they were role models.
Rogg entrusted governance and administrative matters to the experienced elders. He preferred being a mentor and protector. On the training grounds, he taught young men how to fight, aim, and strategize defenses. He introduced the hand-signal system he once used with Robb—silent communication forged in a world that demanded instinct and trust.
Yara didn't sit idly either. She gathered the women of Migase and formed an independent training group."If anyone enters our village without permission," Yara told them one day,"I want you to be able to raise a bow and shoot without hesitation.You are not just housewives or caretakers. You are protectors. You are this village's first line of defense."
A young girl, Lena, asked innocently,"But what if we shoot the wrong person, Devi?"
Yara smiled, then pointed her arrow at a coconut hanging from a nearby tree.With a single breath, she released it—thwack!—and the coconut dropped.
"Train your heart before your arrows," she said. "Once you understand what you're fighting for, your hands will no longer tremble."
Rogg appointed Bala as the official commander of the defense forces. Together, they set up a training rotation."We don't need an army of warriors," Rogg said."We need people who know when to fight—and when to hold back."
This policy reshaped the way the Migase tribe viewed warfare. They began to build a smarter, more strategic defense system, no longer relying solely on brute strength. Even the elders joined in for light training. Rogg himself taught them to wield long staffs for self-defense.
"Why are you laughing, Old Wena?" Rogg asked when one of the elders chuckled mid-training.
"Because the last time I lifted a stick, it was to crack open a coconut—not defend a village!" Wena replied, wheezing with laughter.
"Well then," Rogg grinned,"from today onward, both coconuts and your enemies should fear you."
On the other side, Yara shared the medicinal knowledge she'd brought from the Naavi tribe. She studied local herbs and refined them using what she already knew. From cuts and fevers to insect poisons—she handled everything swiftly.
"This leaf," Yara explained, holding up a small one,"can stop bleeding if you crush it and press it directly on the wound."
An elderly woman nodded, "We used to call this Winkra leaf. But we never knew how to use it properly."
Yara smiled softly."Well, now you do. And you'll pass it on to your grandchildren."
Together, Rogg and Yara laid the foundation of a new Migase—one built on strength, wisdom, and compassion. Slowly but surely, the people of Migase not only survived, but began to thrive. They became more self-reliant, more empowered, and most importantly, they felt seen, valued, and protected by their leaders.
The forest and the sea were no longer threats. They had become part of a life the people now understood—and mastered.
And through it all, Rogg and Yara walked side by side—not as a king and queen seated upon a distant throne,but as two ordinary souls still learning, still teaching, and loving the world they now called home. Top of Form