Chapter Text
Lana
The choosing of ka. The joining of blood. The casting of fate.
Ka’ashwa was a revered tradition among Iolana’s people—ka, as they called their tribes. No other time gathered all four kas into one cliff-curve, around one fire, as A’sha. It reminded everyone of the time of Kalarial, the first Sha Kalao, had gathered the tribes into one ka, teaching them that strength was born of cooperation rather than opposition. It had taken many seasons for that lesson to take root.
Now, Kalarial’s shadow rose from among the ancestors, flickering on the stone walls that loomed overhead. It was called forth by the great fire in the center to bless the four leaders, the current kalaos of the four kas. Nha Ka, Io Ka, Ahi Ka, and Anu Ka. Wisdom, Warrior, Fire, Heart—four parts of a whole, held in balance that felt tipsy to the touch, as though a single spark could send it toppling over a cliff’s edge.
The air smelled of salt and char. Drums pulsed like a second heartbeat. Lana tightened her grip on the firestick she shared with her sister, Lalia. Now was not the time to waver.
One moon. That was all she had before Ka’ashwa. Each echo of the stamping feet around the fire felt like shockwaves, a countdown to the decision that would change her life. She was born of two kas, but after Ka’ashwa, she would belong to only one. The choice was irreversible—unless, as the elders said, the river of life changed course. The thought lay heavy on her heart.
“Lei’o?”
Lana turned to see Lalia beside her in the circle, firelight dancing on her cheekbones. Lalia’s k’sia—child-mate—T’sul sat on her other side, with their three daughters, Nalani, Qasa, and Lora, nestled behind them. All were of Anu Ka. Lalia and T’sul hoped for a son before going their separate ways to find s’hia, a life-mate.
Not everyone found s’hia the first time. Lana and Lalia had learned that from their ahms, their parents. Mha Eulalia had borne them, and Mhi Tonali had sired them. They had been k’sia, giving five children to A’sha before parting ways. Now their mother had s’hia with Moavi, a union of love. Lana expected another sibling soon.
Lalia studied her. “What worries you, sister?”
“I’m fine,” Lana replied lightly, though her eyes drifted back to the flames.
Her sister rolled her eyes and nudged her shoulder. “Don’t be that way, Lana. Something sits on your mind. Speak and give it life.”
From the other side of the fire, a chorus rose—men and women from all four kas, their voices winding together like smoke. The sound threaded through Lana’s thoughts, wrapping them tight.
“I… I must choose,” she said softly.
Lalia said nothing, waiting. Sparks leapt into the night sky.
“I don’t know which ka to choose.” The words tasted heavy, like stones.
Beside her, Lalia hummed. “It is not so bad. Neither choice would be bad.”
Lana gave her a look, and Lalia laughed. “One might be worse than the other.”
The drums shifted to a rolling beat, and a group of dancers entered the fire circle. Their bare feet struck the earth in patterns that spoke of sea voyages and hunts; hands swept in arcs that mimicked the bending of palm trees.
Lana’s mind pulled away from the beauty to the weight of her blood. She was born of Io and Anu. Her father carried the blood of the founder of Io Ka, the great Io himself. Io blood stayed in Io Ka. And so she was expected to join Io. But… it wasn’t home. Not even close.
Anu wasn’t home either, but at least there, she wouldn’t be expected to fight for her place. As the daughter of the right hand of Io, she would be called upon to defend her position. She was a good warrior, but not great. She knew how such battles ended.
So it would be Anu.
The chant deepened, the voices thickening like the night air. In the shadows, elders traded greetings and blessings; children wove between them with baskets of roasted nuts and slices of fresh fruit.
Lana’s mind wove between the options, trying to find the best fit.
Anu was the safer option, but it would not be her home, either. Her mother, the leader of Anu, would see her paired quickly so she could bear a child and secure her claim to leadership. Childbearing was required of any leader, no matter the ka. The elders said it was a way to bind the heart to the tribe. Lana wanted children someday, but not in a few moons. She had barely seen sixteen winters.
So it would be Io.
She groaned, finding herself right back where she had started—in the center of this mess. Seeking a distraction, she rose as Lalia leapt up to join the line of dancers. The stamping began again, the ground trembling beneath their feet. Lana joined in, letting the rhythm carry her through the familiar motions—steps and turns learned before she could walk steadily.
The firelight painted the cliff walls gold and red. Sweat beaded at her temples. Slowly, the pounding in her chest matched the drums instead of her thoughts.
She had one moon. She didn’t have to decide tonight.
Still, as she spun and clapped in time with the others, she thought of her secret third choice. A choice that would take her far from either ka of her birth, toward the life she truly wanted. She could never speak it aloud. She could never choose it.
But as she danced—free for this last stretch of childhood—she knew she wanted to.