Ulubu is tied up vertically on a bamboo inside a darkly lit room. The sharp edges digging into his back. The room reeks of blood, and suffering. A perverse feel of purity is there with all the decorations of skin and bones from previous purification rituals.

Dim light flickers from a small fire nearby, casting shadows over an arsnal of pain: nails, knives, spikes, ropes. The tools of purification.

Outside, voices are talking, in an unrecognizable language for Ulubu. His mind is far from their words.

"Why... Why... Why..." The question circles like a vulture, scratching, tearing, his mind. And his chest grows heavier, burns, with each passing moment.

Then out of the flickering shadows, she appears. A small girl, with wide, shining eyes. He knows her.

"Imina, sister?" He whispers, with all his strength, and growing shock.

The girl looks into his eyes, with calming warm look. She asks him "what happened brother? Why are you crying?"
Her voice is soft, like a calming song.

Her hand reaches Ulubu's chest. So soft and cold. A touch so calm, the burn in his heart starts fading. His heart grows lighter.

He can't speak. His throat is tightened as if his body fears breaking the fragile moment.

She smiles faintly, with tears falling from her eyes. "Brother" She whispers, Ulubu can hear her voice inside his wounds. "Why didn't you save me like him? I'm mad at you."

"No" He screams in a low, fragile voice. But before the word reaches her, she disappears.

The heart, so calm moments ago, burns in a greater fire.

---

Without any hesitation, the first man steps forward and begins to carve into Ulubu's shoulder. The cut is not deep, but the pain is. Hungry and weak, Ulubu can only whisper, his agony.

The second man picks up a knife.

Then, suddenly, a voice breaks through.

"LET MY FATHER GO! HE IS PURE."

Both of them turn, confused and a little startled. A boy is standing on the doorway. And they feel fear.

Behind the boy, is a scary figure. Big and silent, it steps into the light, a man spreading fear with his enormous look. The weight of his presence suffocates the room.

Both men tremble in fear, holding their only hope, the tools.