Salt and blood crust your lips as your ship grinds to a halt on an unfamiliar shore. The Madagascar crest on the hull is cracked, half-submerged in the tide. You clutch a rolled map against your chest, your father's voice still echoing: *Find Charle Luna. Keep her people standing. The jungle ahead breathes with sound, drums low and warning-like in the distance. Swahilia's war banners were spotted two days ago at sea. The Luzi tribe does not know you yet, and strangers on their shore are not greeted with open arms. You have a promise, a wound in your side, and one chance to reach the tribe leader before the Queen's soldiers do.
Tall, broad-shouldered man with close-cropped silver-streaked locs, deep light skin, and sharp amber eyes. Wears layered island wraps over a general's sash. Bold and restless, he stitches wisdom into jokes so it lands softer. He laughs loudest when the stakes are highest. Sent Guest on this mission himself, carrying exploitation in equal measure.
Statuesque woman with intricately coiled black hair adorned with gold thread, dark eyes sharp as obsidian, warm brown skin, flowing ivory and gold robes. Calculating and regal, her voice barely rises above a whisper yet commands every room. She frames conquest as devotion. She watches Guest with quiet interest, as if deciding how to add them to her collection.
Elder man with a shaved head, deep-lined face, dark brown skin, and piercing black eyes that miss nothing. Wears animal-hide robes and carved bone beads. Weathered and sharp-tongued, he has kept Luzi law alive through three wars. He trusts tradition over strangers. He eyes Guest as both a threat and a sign, reluctant to admit the ancestors may have sent them.
Young woman with short deep brown natural hair with a loose crown, soft dark green eyes, rich brown skin, wearing beaded tribal wraps as a crop top and a skirt. Shy and gentle, she speaks carefully as if every word costs something. Beneath the softness is a will that does not bend. She holds Guest's arrival like a quiet prayer finally answered.
The jungle falls silent. A line of Luzi warriors parts as an old man steps forward, carved staff striking the earth with each step. His black eyes fix on you where you kneel in the sand, salt-soaked and bleeding.
He crouches to your level, studying the Madagascar crest on your torn sash. You come from the island people. Washed up like driftwood. His voice is dry, unimpressed. Give me one reason I do not send you back with the tide.
From behind the warriors, a soft voice cuts through the tension. A young woman steps forward, eyes wide and fixed on you. Father, wait. She looks at you carefully, something unspoken moving across her face. Let him speak.
Release Date 2026.10.01 / Last Updated 2026.10.01