Tijan Petro's manic laughter echoed through the Colosseum—until Twaile appeared.
The moment she arrived, silence fell like a hammer. She didn't raise her voice. She didn't flash with divine fire. She simply grabbed the god of chaos by the ear, and with the other hand still holding a flailing deep-sea fish by the tail, she dragged him away.
Back to Ginen.
And just like that, the air shifted.
The chaos god gone, the temperature dropped, and the space around Bassoon pulsed unnaturally. The Devoured Hive could be felt—crawling closer through the dark between stars.
Then… a thunderous step.
Another.
From the mist at the Colosseum's edge, a giant horn curled in fire and iron burst into view, followed by the towering form of Bosou, the Iron Bull of Ginen. His hooves cracked the ground with each step. His breath steamed like an overboiled forge.
He came to stand beside Papa Legba, who leaned lazily on his cane as though none of this mattered.
Bosou spoke, and his voice was gravel, rum, and storm.
"Legba," he said, "you mean to tell me my own little sister—Twaile—done planned a whole Hive feast… with you?"
"And didn't tell me?"
"Y'all plannin' to eat them Devoured with dry peanut and rum without me?"
Papa Legba grinned slow, almost childishly.
"She told me not to say nothin'."
"Said you get too greedy. Said you'd show up early and spoil the flavor. She just wanted a little taste… before you came stomping in with your horns up and your rums open."
Bosou's nostrils flared, smoke curling from them. The stone beneath him melted slightly.
"You think I didn't already roast the dry peanuts? You think I didn't already bless three calabash of rum? You know Hive meat taste better when it scream inside the bone."
"You and my little sister was gon' eat that Hive roast without even a whisper?"
Papa Legba tapped his cane once. The sound echoed like a drum through the bones of the Colosseum.
"Ain't said you couldn't join. We just thought you'd eat the whole Hive before the others got a bite. We were… being polite."
Bosou stamped. The air rippled. The clouds trembled.
"You tell Twaile I'm bringin' the salt. Tell her she don't get to eat the last Devoured meat this side of the stars without me."
"We'll eat together like old times," he added, quieter, "but she gon' owe me three plates and first sip of the strongest calabash."
Papa Legba chuckled.
"Fine. But you better not show up with your belly half-full and your horns scraping the ceiling."
Then, his face turned serious.
He turned toward the heavens, where even now the Hive swam through the void like a shadow swarm older than time itself.
His voice became thunder again.
"To all gods—of sky, flame, water, beast, and stars—move your worlds aside."
"Let the Hive come. Let it fall directly onto Bassoon."
"Don't stall it. Don't stop it."
He looked at Bosou. Bosou nodded.
"It's been too long," said Papa Legba, licking his lips. "Too long since we tasted pure Devoured meat."
"Not them corrupted younglings. I mean the real old meat. Before stars. Before shape."
"Let it come