On the outskirts of the northern villages, where there were no longer wells or any plants that could survive the arid desert, a group of people stood gathered in a circle. There was no noise. They did not shout or speak. Only one voice could be heard.

  Nahumi was hidden among the large rocks, a veil barely allowing her to see, promising her anonymity. Her heart raced, her legs trembled, and she clutched the stone so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

  Meanwhile, the voice continued speaking in a calm tone that soothed instantly.

  “My enlightened ones, you are all here to witness the Ukkhe Actkal. I will bring hope and new life.”

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  The people burst into emotion. The women knelt, drawing close to the feet of the Zhiary. The men touched their faces, feeling the Rutanio. The children only screamed. They did not understand. They were too young to know what this meant.

  A small group among them began to sing. The Zhiary said something. From the distance, Nahumi saw him speak, but because of the noise she could not hear what he said.

  She saw the figure of the Zhiary step slightly away from the crowd. In her eagerness to see where he was going, Nahumi miscounted her steps and moved too close to the edge of the rock where she stood. A small stone shifted. One wrong step. The promise to Thymmie.

  Nahumi slipped and slid down toward the crowd below, her clothes torn, her skin scraped raw and red from the friction. Only one woman saw her. She stared without changing her expression, then slightly moved her hand in a small gesture.

  Though they may not have known each other, Nahumi understood. Her pupils dilated. The pain became small compared to what was happening.

  Nahumi knew one thing clearly.

  The woman was telling her: run before they see you.