Her wild black curls tamed under the pull of the brush. Sitting without much entertainment, she fidgeted as the servant detangled her hair with counted . Left in the wake of properly tended sections, were tiny braids or small flowers. The petals were colorful and fragile, but naturally became smothered in Zaina’s mass of obsidian ringlets.

“You’ll look very pretty by the end of this, princess,” the servant said, offering the young girl a hand mirror. “Thank you for being so patient.”

“I’m very pretty now,” Zaina corrected, looking at her round face in the mirror. She loved her big dark eyes and russet brown skin. She saw in the mirror more than just a reflection of herself, but a reflection of her mother. She couldn’t help flashing a smile of missing teeth, thinking of the events that would take place today.

Her mother, strong and sharp-jawed, would stand proudly at the top of the stairs to Hae and Jigu’s House, where Zaina would walk as drums beat furiously to the muted sound of her steps. The people of Nocoren, who watched from below, would gaze in awe at the sight of their pretty princess taking the final step to womanhood in front of their beautiful queen. The ceremony would mean that when the time came, her mother’s powers would be passed to her. The ceremony meant that Zaina was a woman in the eyes of Nocoren. The ceremony meant that Zaina was available to be courted.

A flush came upon Zaina’s face and she set down the mirror. She told herself this wasn’t an important element in the upcoming event. The most important thing was the passing of the Guvu.

“All done,” the servant eventually said, returning the mirror to Zaina’s hands.

The little girl was glad to see how gorgeous the entangled flowers looked in her long, voluminous curls, though she knew if her hair had been more manageable, it would have been put up into a complicated maze of buns and tight braids. She had seen other girls with this elegant sort of style, but believed her own mane had its charms.

“Now,” Zaina said, putting down the mirror, “I have to go get painted.”

“Yes, you do, princess,” the servant replied gently. “Hurry along, you’re a little late.”

Zaina hopped up from the cushion and left out the hut in a shuffle. Quietly, she trundled back and gave the Nocoren sign for thanks before officially running off to the hut of the painters.

Two plump older women stood waiting inside, tapping their bare toes and pouting their lips. Zaina stumbled into the hut, giving the Nocoren sign of apologies.

“Sorry, I’m late, you know how difficult my hair can be,” the young princess uttered only to be interrupted by the painter servants shoving her onto a cushion and beginning to apply the intricate white and yellow designs that would cover her face, upper body, and arms. After they were finished, they dressed her in layered skirt, tying hanging furs and beads to the waist. Her wrists were adorned with copper bracelets and on her upper arm, tasseled armlets. She was tied snug into a bright yellow bodice decorated with furs and beads. Clipped around her neck sat a golden gorget, surprisingly light and elaborately carved.

When the final pieces, multiple and colorful leg bands, were in place, Zaina was led away by one of the plump women to a small shrine by the river. The sun blazed especially well today and Zaina wondered if it was Hae approving of her womanhood ceremony. At the shrine a very elderly shaman sat with closed eyes and a bowl of mixed oils. He chanted a prayer as he dabbed the healing oils onto Zaina’s face and arms with his thumb. She knew this was an essential part in preparation for accepting the Guvu flow of power, but she couldn’t help flinching under the touch of the man’s dry, wrinkled thumb.

Though the oils had smudged part of her paint, it was left as is – the oils weren’t to be disturbed. She meant to turn to leave off for the house of Hae and Jigu, but the old shaman grabbed her. She told her arm not to writhe out of his crusty grip.

“You have great potential in you, child,” the shaman said. “Hae has graced you with a fire stronger than your mother who was blessed with serenity from Jigu.”

He released her, but Zaina felt ensnared by a gaze that wasn’t there. The shaman had kept his eyes closed during the entire process.

She was then dragged off by a servant and through a crowd. Whispers and cheers blew through the air in an overwhelming wave. The gathering split as the princess was released from any hold and abandoned by any caretaker. On her own, she walked through her adoring people towards the stairs to Hae and Jigu’s House.

She breathed deeply, now unaware of the hollering bodies surrounding her. She was here. Her hair was bursting with beauty, plucked from Jigu herself. Her body glowed with bright colors as she bathed in the light of Hae himself. In her, raged the fire of her spirit and the trusting love her people. She waited for the drums. She had to wait for the drums. As badly as she wanted to take that first step, she must wait for the beat of the ceremonial drums.

But it felt like that initial beat would never come. Instead, she heard gasps. Loud, sharp gasps of fear, shock, and utter disbelief. All eyes turned to the distance behind Zaina, toward the sea. Looking for a sign of what was happening, Zaina looked to the top of the treacherous climb, where her mother stood.

Her mother’s deep brown form, usually noble and calm yet radiating strength, was taken aback by whatever she was seeing off in the horizon. Zaina ignored tradition, she had to know what was happening. Without the first beat of the drum, Zaina rushed up the first few steps and looked over the heads of the crowd, towards the sea.

Far away, small, but clear, was the sail of a ship. No one alive on the island of Nocoren had seen a foreign ship making anchor on their land. Neither had many, many generations before them. Their distance allowed them to be forgotten and ignored by civilizations beyond the sea. To most, they had become but a myth.

But clearly not to all. Zaina, horrified, looked to her mother who returned the expression with one of slight worry.

After a swallow and a sigh, the Queen of Nocoren nodded to the percussionists on either side of her.

Then, despite the mystery heading towards the small nation in slow bobs, came the booming sound of drums.