In the darkness, the drums were violently loud, overwhelming, all around us; a ferocious rara with other noises suspended in it: Confused sounds; laughter, a cry of pain, a growl, a dull ripping, and our screams.

The darkness was absolute - the torchlight, the moon, the stars above, all gone. Everything was endless black.

We whirled, dizzy and lost, the smell of salt sea burned nose and throat.

"The light!" The cry cut through the chaos, "Light it! Light the fire!"

We scrambled, bumping into trees, other bodies. All the while the blackness around burst with roaring clamour.

Instantly the noise stopped - and we saw the light shimmering far, far above us. Dreamlike it drew our eyes up, up, up, and we saw our tiny torchflame, bobbing and swaying above the surface of water, and we were deep down below.

And, gently, the world slid back into itself; the dream slipped away and the light so far above looked just like the moon once more.

Someone had lit the torch, and it was spitting and strengthening. The only sound was the wind in the leaves, and our breathing. The baka was gone, as though it had never been. A dark shape on the ground glinted in the firelight. The stinging smell of blood in the air.

It was Yahweh, his mask had been torn off and flung into the brush, angry gashes raked up his throat and face. Wet blood was spattered over his hide cloak. His face was pallid, eyes staring. He was dead.

Twelve had become ten. In the wavering light, we looked from one to another.

---

ZFR is eliminated. He was Fanel Bellvue, Haitian Regular.

It is now the Second Voting Phase.