It was an old tradition, one that the Master had started in Tambelon’s depths. In the wake of a successful raid, slaves were unchained to celebrate for the evening as ancient words were chanted and offerings were burned. Even in freedom, it was their culture.
Alas, nopony had ever guessed the true purpose of that ritual.
The smoke from the offerings refused to rise, stealthily slinking across the ground. It travelled across forest and field, diving down through cavern and labyrinth and into the city of Tambelon.
Ancient bells chimed as an old ram slowly stirred and opened his eyes.