2026 • Novel
“The greatest tragedy is to see the path clearly but never dare to walk it.”
The star has been spotted, the great festival begins.
Inside Tagola we were busy preparing for our esteemed guests, readying for a countless number of ceremonies and processions. Every able body was preoccupied with cleaning inside and out and adorning all spaces with a panoply of festive paraphernalia. Our precious artifacts were brought from the archives, respectfully pampered, and then proudly displayed. Our Grand Banquet Hall was formally unsealed, restored, and restocked.
The emblem of Namdaal—the five-coloured jasmine, star-of-Namdaal, our highland flower—was painted and repainted everywhere in all its various intricate forms. Tagola was transforming into something spectacular. This was a once in a lifetime bloom, an eruption of magnificence.
But there were also strange things sprouting within our ancient loam: the vines of discord and dissent.