Prologue


    The village of Azim lay in the shadow of the mighty Azimiliam Mountain, its towering peak lost in the clouds. It was a place of refuge, carved from the wilderness by a people who had once been slaves, their chains broken in a desperate flight through darkness.


    The Zula people had not always called this land home. Generations ago, they had lived under the yoke of ruthless conquerors, their lives spent in servitude, their freedom a distant memory. It was King Ola, their fearless leader, who led them away—on a night when the stars hid and the wind whispered secrets of escape.


    They abandoned everything—homes, livestock, even their harvests—taking only what they could carry. To wake their oppressors would mean death, so they moved in silence, their hearts pounding as they crossed into the unknown.


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    For days, they marched through barren wastelands, their strength fading as hunger and sickness claimed the weak. The journey turned from triumph to torment, their newfound freedom teetering on the edge of ruin. But just as despair threatened to consume them, they saw it—a mountain standing like a sentinel against the sky, its base split by twin rivers, its slopes cloaked in dense, untamed forest.


    To King Ola, it was more than a mountain. It was a sign. A promise. A home.


    The Zula people settled at the foot of Azimiliam, carving a life from the land. They built shelters from the forest’s bounty, their fields flourished in the river-fed soil, and for the first time in generations, they were free.


    But freedom is fragile, a lesson they would never forget. To honor their journey, they established Freedom Day—a sacred celebration to remind every Zula child of the night their ancestors broke their chains.


    Yet, traditions are only as strong as those who uphold them. And some would soon discover that the past never stays buried forever.