Since childhood, Kekala had been a stranger to her own desires. She wanted to rest when the mist thickened, but she had to dance. She wanted to forget the sound of the drums, but she had to move to their rhythm.
The drums began before dusk. They always did, from the heart of the city, where the stone temple stood like a scar that never faded.
The drumbeat was not music, but a law -- an invisible decree that said: You will dance, no matter what. For it was known that as long as the drums played and...