Before this incident, Agu rarely displayed his physical strength.
What he showed most often was his ability to perceive the essence of things. He treated that ability as divine favor, a glory granted by God.
As the feathered people matured, most external threats, including powerful beasts, could be handled by them. There had been little need for Agu to intervene personally.
Because of this, most of them did not realize how strong he truly was.
Spiritfeather silently calculated.
He and Agu had heard the scream at nearly the same time. In fact, Spiritfeather's position had been closer to where the incident occurred.
He had rushed out immediately.
When he stepped outside, he had already seen the white radiance of Agu cutting through the night. By the time he arrived, it was over.
What unsettled him was not only Agu's power.
Moonflare and the others had also grown stronger under the red moon. Their speed and force had exceeded Spiritfeather's own estimates.
If he had been the one affected instead, he would have been suppressed just as swiftly.
Crushed in a single exchange.
Without resistance.
A faint unease rose in Spiritfeather's heart.
Until now, he had believed that with intelligence, charisma, and strategic thinking, he could gradually win influence and one day take leadership from Agu.
But now he understood something new.
Agu's individual strength alone was enough to shatter everything he relied upon.
"If I am to stand against him," Spiritfeather thought, "I must gain strength equal to his body."
His gaze shifted to the injured feathered man being supported by others, his empty eye socket covered hastily.
Combat ability among the feathered people was generally balanced. Differences were minor and tied mostly to labor roles.
Moonflare had been a stargazer, not a warrior.
Yet under the red moon, he had overpowered another of their kind.
"What changed them?" Spiritfeather wondered. "Can that power be controlled? Can it be used?"
From that moment on, he involved himself actively in the investigation, gathering information.
The next day, Moonflare and the other two regained consciousness.
The red tint in their feathers had not faded completely. An ominous aura clung faintly to them.
Their reason had partially returned.
"I was not myself," Moonflare said slowly. "It was as though another version of me stepped forward. A moon-faced self."
But when he spoke of that state, his body twitched violently. His breathing grew erratic. The questioning had to stop.
Fortunately, the other two provided fragments of testimony.
The smashed clay tablets they had discarded were recovered. Though shattered, compression had preserved parts of the writing.
Agu stood before the stone slab and carefully examined the fragments.
"The red of the moon influences life," he read aloud from the partially legible marks.
He reflected on previous nights when the moon had been at its brightest or darkest.
Though he no longer remembered the details of earlier dreams, he could recall the lingering emotional disturbances upon waking.
Comparing those sensations with lunar cycles, he noticed a pattern.
They aligned with full moons and moonless nights.
"On nights of full moon or no moon," Agu declared, "no one leaves their dwelling."
Until the cause was understood, they would avoid exposure.
Yet concern remained.
Did the red moon affect only the feathered people?
Or all life?
This land was flourishing. Birds and beasts thrived in abundance. Individually, they posed little threat.
But in number, they far exceeded the feathered people.
If animals also mutated under the red moon, a tide of beasts could form.
Would the tribe survive such a surge?
If it were only himself, Agu would not fear.
He could fly faster than any of them. His speed surpassed even other feathered people.
But a tribe could not simply flee.
Natural birds were numerous, and though smaller, their flight speed rivaled the feathered people due to lighter bodies.
Agu looked behind him at the valley.
He had carved the Ceremony here. He had intended to make this place the center of a growing civilization.
Some things could not be moved.
Law carved in stone was not easily uprooted.
"We must grow," Agu concluded. "In number and in strength."
Judgment followed.
Regardless of the moon's influence, Moonflare and the others had violated the Ceremony and injured one of their own.
They were stripped of most rights and confined separately.
Wooden confinement would not hold them.
Instead, Agu ordered the excavation of stone chambers into the mountainside.
Using tools, they carved a hollow space within the rock and sealed it with heavy slabs.
As for how to carve the mountain itself, Agu had already been working toward a solution.
Stone tools were inefficient.
During earlier journeys, he had observed metal-bearing ore, especially copper.
Copper was harder and more resilient than most stone.
The difficulty lay in processing it.
Stone could be shaped through impact. Copper ore could not.
So again, Agu turned to fire.
Magma contained metal. High heat could melt it.
The question was temperature.
Ordinary flame was insufficient.
Thus, the new structure rising near the valley was essential.
A closed kiln.
If flame were contained and fed continuously within an enclosed chamber, the temperature might reach levels capable of melting metal ore.
The project had been ongoing for some time.
They could now fire clay into pottery successfully. Different soils produced different types of vessels.
Agu had considered using pottery for tools, but it remained brittle and suitable mainly for containers.
As evening approached, most of the feathered people returned indoors.
The moon would be full again tonight.
Fear lingered.
Agu stood before the stone chamber where Moonflare and the others were confined.
As darkness settled and the moon rose, the red hue returned.
Inside the chamber, agitation began almost immediately.
Their breathing grew heavier.
Claws scraped against stone.
When the crimson light intensified, Moonflare's voice echoed from within.
He demanded to be released.
He demanded to challenge Agu again.
And outside the chamber, Agu watched silently, the white of his feathers steady beneath the rising red sky.