Chapter One: End of Rituals

I was born.

And I was named Ayagi. It seemed to fit me and I don’t think there was any significance to that name either. The only thing that seemed to matter was the strange mark around my belly button.

Others around me were so shocked that they immediately threw me to the troll shaman - someone I would later learn to be pretty important in troll society. I was only a few minutes old and I already couldn’t believe how different trolls looked - something told me who was my mother and father, much like how a human baby knew, but I knew this old sagging troll was not my family. He had popped pimples with pus coming out of them. He had warts that sagged with his jowls. His beard had all kinds of things in it I still didn’t want to know. His breath had remnants of rotting meat that made me cry out every time I’m forced to smell it.

And yet, I accepted that this is how things were.

I babbled and cooed and cried as he examined me. His touches were harsh even on my rough grey skin as he tried to pull out the mark from my belly.

“Hm, I didn’t think one of these would be born into our race,” I heard him say. I didn’t quite understand the meaning but I wonder if it was like this for human babies at first. But I knew he wasn’t talking to me. “I heard about these...Spirits from my time in the Orc village. It’s interesting how he has this mark.”

“What do we do with him?” I heard another masculine voice say although he did sound younger. Was there a twinge of concern?

“Raise him like any other youngling. If I remember right, these types may regain their memories of the past and other times, they may not. But there’s a higher chance he may never recover them.”

They were quiet as the shaman troll kept looking at me with a curiosity that would make anyone uncomfortable. And yet, I accepted that this is how things were.

He pulled on my skin again and it’s only now I see that he had long moldy nails with painful tips that curled. I cried again as it hurt - it shouldn’t hurt, right? That’s why we have this skin, right?

“What happens if he does remember things?”

“Then bring him to me. I shall dispose of him. Bring him to me every eve of his birth. Don’t tell him the reason why you always bring him to me - after all, if he regains his memories, then he’ll understand.”

As time went along, every eve of my birthday for the next 11 years, I would be brought to the same shaman, who only grew older and grosser as time went on. Every year, he’d ask me the same questions over and over - “Do you remember your past life?” And every year, I answered no as he inspected my body.

Even if I did remember it, how would he even know? The shaman is old and useless and we only have him because he’s our only connection to the orc village. Once he dies, they’re going to replace him with another one - and I don’t think whoever he or she is, they’re going to care about someone like me. I’m someone with an unusual mark on my belly - I eventually learned it’s a star - and it didn’t matter since our whole mission in life is to hunt humans and to expand our territory.

On the eve of my 11th birthday, a new shaman sat in his seat instead. My parents and I learned that the old troll died last week and I thought for a moment that maybe I’m home-free! Finally! I didn’t have to answer the same old questions! But I was sorely disappointed.

“Come on, Ayagi. The shaman's waiting for us.” My father cried out. I grumbled and grew annoyed at the prospects of having to answer the same questions over and over. How would this new shaman know what memories I have? The one before him didn’t so how would this one know?

However, my father is someone I answered - after all, he’s the one who’s going to teach me how to survive, so I listened and I followed after I put some pants on. Along the way, I noticed looked around the village as time went on - younglings were born and older trolls died. Death was something we saw every time they would drag a human body, or head, so seeing other dead trolls didn’t shake me up. Initially, it did when I first realized it at age 6 and that got my parents worried about whether or not I had my memories back.

But it didn’t come back - it’s apparently normal to be shocked around dead humans at first. Once I got used to it, I would shrug it off and my parents stopped worrying about it.

I looked at my father as he led the usual way to the shaman's hut. He’s certainly grown older as time went on. From what I learned from my older sister, Yaci, his hunting skills aren't what it used to be. A lot of other trolls considered him unusual because he ‘fell in love’ with my mother - I guess that is weird. I don’t see anyone kissing each other or even acknowledge each other without an insult. They always talk about waiting until their partner was dead in order to live their life or how they ruined each other’s chances to get chosen to join the Orc village.

But not my father. He actually seemed to enjoy my mother’s company and the opposite was true too. He used to tell me little stories when they hunted together - which that itself was pretty strange. Most trolls learn how to hunt by themselves with maybe aid from others if it benefited them. Though, I often wondered if that was the case, why did they hunt together as often as they did? What benefit could they have gotten from each other?

My mother seems like an average troll woman - she’s big and sturdy and I think she’s pretty smart for a troll woman. She’s a way better hunter than my father is but decided to stay instead of striving to leave. And soon, she had Yaci and then me.

Love… I’m still only 10 and the concept is very strange to me. Maybe I will understand more when I become older. Maybe my parents are unusual and maybe they see me like a curse with this star-mark on my belly button. But if I’m such a curse, why doesn’t Yaci have the same mark?

Soon, we arrived at the shaman hut and I saw the new one as he got up from his seat outside his hut. He seemed a bit tense as he approached me. He seemed a lot younger than the other one although he also had warts all over his face. He had bristles of a beard growing but instead of a white color, it was black colored. I eventually noticed I had hair growing on top of my head but it’s the same color as my mother, father, and Yaci’s - although Yaci’s hair is a lot longer than mine, my father made sure of it.

“Ah, yes, Shaman Jabir mentioned you before he took his final breath. My name is Shaman Anje, I arrived in this community a few days ago.”

My father grunted the traditional greeting although we both were taken aback how different this Shaman Anje was. Then again, most troll shamans are trained in the nearest orc village so it shouldn’t have been too surprising for us. After my father grunted, he stated his name and then I followed suit.

“So, you’re Ayagi, then. Of course, how could I have missed this unusual marking on your stomach.” He reached down and pinched it, much gentler than Shaman Jabir did. “Shaman Jabir explained the situation to me before he passed so, let’s go in the hut and do the usual examination, youngling.”

“He’s not a youngling anymore.”

When my father said something, he was surely ignored as I entered the hut - the same as I ever did years before. It was a simple hut, built for one, and had all kinds of human skulls around. They seemed to have aged quite a bit since they had a lot of dirt and mud on them but some were cleaner than others. There were papers around with symbols and script that I didn’t know what it was. It seemed that this shaman was a lot messier than Shaman Jabir - he’d never even let me go near his papers while this one didn’t seem to care. Then again, it’s not like I knew how to read. There were bottles of colored water as well that didn’t look appetizing in the slightest - my mother’s warning about drinking such strange water echoed in my head briefly.

When I turned around, I saw the Shaman Anje enter the hut and he spread his arms to start the usual ritual. However, before he did, someone ran in the hut and grunted towards the Shaman and mumbled his name. He completely ignored the scene before him and I just stood there awkwardly as the scene continued before me.

“Come, Shaman! The chief’s son, Matuna, is missing!” Then he turned around and ran out the opening of the hut. The Shaman looked frustrated and then turned to me. He gave me a mean look as he glowered at me. I didn’t take a step back; that’s how adult trolls look at younglings like me anyway.

“Listen up, youngling, you don’t seem to have acquired any human-like memories, so get out of here.”

“Do I need to come back next year?”

“No! No! Did you not hear? The chief’s son is missing! Get your father, youngling, and join the search! You do understand why we search for him, right? Or are those of you just short of a few strands?”

He turned and left. I don’t understand what he said but I just knew that it was mean. Even though I’m pretty sure he just insulted me, but I was more relieved I didn’t have to deal with these rituals anymore! I relaxed and then shrugged. Maybe now I can go and hang out with my friends.

But, when I stepped out of the hut, my father was nowhere to be seen.