I proceed to pour us both a cup of tug'a I had been fermenting since I settled in this part of the island. First his, then mine. The tart smell of month's old coconut sap lingers in the air of the modest abode.

"Forgive me. I wasn't expecting to receive visitors."

"Do not trouble yourself."

The stranger silently picks up his small wooden cup. He raises it to my direction – a gesture of good thanks – before taking a sip. His movement is smooth and swift as a river's, yet as quiet as a falling leaf all the same.

"May the Olden Gods bless you," he recites.

"May the Olden Gods protect you in return, visitor," I answer back.

The man smirks, putting down the cup. His deep, starlit eyes avoids the humble array of dishes I laid down before us, watching me intently instead.

"Do you know why I am here, Beloved of the Moon?"

"Is it time?"

"Twelve full moons have come and go. The moon's darkness can't conceal you from the hands of fate forever, Lan'lah."

"May I know your name? For if I must depart from this plane, I rather the identity of my slayer be known to me this evening."

The stranger stands to his full height, black-night hair scratches the hut's ceiling. His soundless footsteps settle beside me; falling to his knees, he brings together both arms across his tattooed chest in a closed fist then bows low enough for his forehead to touch the ground. A greeting reserved only for a chieftain's kin or a shaman appointed by the Olden Gods.

My heart falters.

"What does this mean?"

"Before you, Beloved of the Moon, is Bur'llau god son of the Moon Goddess and chieftain of Ka'an Idd'i Ll'ua."