Uglo's council house was built from compacted permafrost, reinforced at the edges with animal hides and stones, yet its interior was far more dilapidated than its exterior.
The ground was cracked, the bear paintings on the walls were faded, and the central brazier had long since cooled, with only a few dim oil lamps lit, emitting a bitter smell.
Skala, Toka, and Gollon sat down in silence.
Across from them sat an elder, draped in a ash-stained bear hide cloak, his back slightly hunched, but his eyes still held a spark of light.
His name was Rur; he had once been Uglo's chieftain, and now he precariously held the position of "speaker."
"You said what you brought was not charity," Rur began, "but that thing in your hand—that black-eyed stone—it doesn't resemble any loa we know."
Skala didn't argue but instead countered, "Do you still believe Rhunok will return?"
Rur's expression darkened.
After a moment, he spoke, "You know what kind of loa Rhunok is. He is a protector, the father of the tribe—no matter how destitute we became, he was never absent."
"Until a year ago," he said, "until the Frost Howl tribe invaded from the south, setting fire to the southern forests. We called out to him... there was no response."
"You're saying Rhunok abandoned you?"
"No," Rur closed his eyes, "it was us who abandoned him."
A silence fell over the tent.
"On the third day of the Frost Howl siege, a young man suggested offering the totem to gain terms for surrender. We... did not stop him."
"The moment the totem shattered," he looked at Skala, his voice low and hoarse, "we never dreamed of bears again."
Toka quietly asked, "What happened after that?"
"Frost Howl wanted to confiscate our children as servants, and use our artisans to repair their equipment," Rur gritted his teeth, "If it weren't for the Resistance Alliance closing in on Frost Howl's retreat route, they wouldn't have been forced to withdraw. We survived because of that, but... our Father God is gone."
The situation was more complex than Skala had imagined.
He had originally thought they were merely victims, a tribe abandoned and awaiting salvation.
But now he knew—no, they were active betrayers.
To survive, they had personally shattered the idol of their own faith.
He slowly placed his hand on the divine emblem, the cold material pressing against his palm.
He suddenly wondered: Would my Lord truly be willing to answer such people?
This question had never arisen so clearly in his mind.
"You want us to switch to another loa?" Rur suddenly spoke, seeing through his momentary hesitation.
Skala took a deep breath, forcing his thoughts back into order.
"Not switch," he said, "but a new choice."
Rur stared at him for a long time, finally saying, "Come back tomorrow. We... need to discuss."
Skala nodded, for he also needed time to think.
Leaving the council house, Skala's steps felt unusually heavy.
At night, the Uglo tribe was as silent as an abyss; there was no dancing fire, no singing, and no crying children.
They were settled in a dilapidated tent at the edge, the ground covered with untreated animal hides, still retaining a strong smell of blood and mildew.
Toka and Gollon took turns on watch, while Skala leaned against the tent pole, eyes closed but not sleeping.
Footsteps occasionally sounded outside.
It wasn't like patrolling, but more like aimless wandering—every so often someone would tread through the snow, pause, then walk away.
"Their night watch rhythm is all messed up," Gollon whispered, "It's less like patrolling and more like sleepwalking."
Toka returned from outside the tent, his face pale: "I saw their old shaman sitting next to the broken totem, talking to himself. It seemed like he had something in his mouth."
Skala didn't know what to say.
Being godless wasn't just losing a god. They had lost organization, hope, and order; even their dreams had become hollow and meaningless.
"I've never seen such a lifeless tribe," Toka sat down, rubbing his hands, "They seem alive, but... they've actually buried themselves."
"A bit like Tok-Aak back then," Gollon blurted out, then immediately regretted it and shut his mouth.
Skala opened his eyes, not blaming him, but only saying in a low voice, "At least we still argued, and cursed our gods as useless. They don't even have curses left."
He paused, then added, "This is harder than death."
Low voices of argument drifted from outside.
None of them went out, just listening as the argument gradually turned into roars, then quickly subsided into silence—no fighting, no sound of weapons being drawn.
Just two voices arguing in the night, swiftly swallowed by some greater void.
"They won't agree," Toka suddenly said.
"They will," Skala said, "but it might not be true belief, just like someone about to drown will frantically grasp at anything within reach."
Gollon looked at him: "Then will you still give them the divine emblem? Those betrayers?"
Skala didn't respond immediately, only looking down at his palm.
The divine emblem was cold, but it still stared at the Ice Trolls.
He suddenly realized that throughout this journey, he had spoken much about "response," yet had never truly requested a response.
He had come out in the name of a god, but without a true divine oracle.
Perhaps, it was time to try.
A moment later, Skala sat alone in an open space, a fragment of a bear totem before his knees. He placed his divine emblem flat upon it, as if awaiting some judgment.
No fire was lit; he merely gazed at the Obsidian, beginning to recall Obsidian's image in his mind.
After sufficient contemplation, Skala finally spoke, for the first time truly as a supplicant, "My Lord, they once abandoned their god."
"But they survived."
"I do not know... if you will accept them, nor if the followers you require should be such people."
The wind began to stir.
Slightly, yet it swirled around the divine emblem in his hand, like some unearthly aura approaching.
He closed his eyes, no longer speaking, surrendering everything to silence.
A moment later, the divine emblem trembled gently.
A wisp of light escaped from it, like the first star in the pre-dawn sky, slowly spreading over the broken bear totem.
The stone surface grew warm, and an imperceptible gray light seeped from the depths of the cracks.
Skala opened his eyes, only to hear an ancient, deep voice in his heart, like thunder resounding in his ears yet infinitely distant:
"Response, must be founded on an oath."
"Protection, must be named by belonging."
"If they offer their hearts, I shall grant them my strength."
Then, everything returned to silence.
The bear totem cooled once more, and the divine emblem regained its calm, as if everything that had just occurred had never happened.
But Skala knew he wasn't dreaming.
He lowered his head, slowly putting away the divine emblem.
That was not forgiveness, nor was it a command.
It was a covenant.
Not between him and the Dragon God, but—the choice the Uglo tribe itself was about to face:
Were they willing to surrender everything they had to an existence willing to listen to them?