My five ghostly husbands Chapter 292

Ruby and the others stepped out too—Karl was practically bouncing on his feet, his new robe swishing around his ankles as he kept pointing at the lanterns overhead. Milo held a small pouch of incense close to his chest, peeking around with wide, curious eyes.

Julian walked just behind Ruby, carrying a small woven basket with extra offerings. Adrian kept pace quietly at her side, his expression calm but his dark eyes taking in every flicker of light.

The village centre was already coming alive. Rows of flickering lanterns and tiny lights wire floated gently above their heads, dancing with the soft evening breeze. Long garlands of fresh flowers hung from tree and houses. Here and there, children weaved between the crowd, giggling as they carried tiny candles in clay holders.

Near the very heart of the clearing, a group of older ghosts were stacking thick logs into a careful arrangement—layer by layer, forming a wide, sturdy mound that would soon become the ceremonial fire. A few witches tied small charms onto the logs, whispering prayers for protection and luck. The faint scent of incense and dried herbs drifted through the cool air, mingling with the soft chatter of neighbors greeting each other.

Karl elbowed her playfully, whispering, "Wife... tonight, make a big wish, okay? And maybe wish for Soulstream too—"

"Don’t push your luck," Ruby muttered under her breath, fighting back a tiny smile.

Behind them, Adrian’s deep voice rumbled, "Keep your wish simple, Karl."

Julian chuckled, his eyes warm as he adjusted the basket in his hands. Milo only giggled, tugging at Karl’s sleeve to hush him.

Ruby spotted Angeline weaving her way through the gathered villagers, her dark hair pinned up neatly, her robes new and trimmed with gold thread. Her husbands walked beside her, carrying a small basket of offerings, nodding politely to people as they passed.

Karl’s eyes lit up when he saw them. He waved dramatically, nearly smacking Milo in the face. "Bother Kenji, brother max, brother Hugo! Over here! Wife saved you a spot!"

Ruby nudged him in the ribs for that, but her lips curved into a small smile when Angeline reached them. She greeted Ruby with a soft squeeze of her hand, then gave a warm nod to Julian, Milo, and even Adrian, who returned it with his usual calm nod.

The village square had grown even livelier—more families arrived. The children who’d run around all morning were now sitting quietly near their parents, wide-eyed and holding tiny sticks of incense.

At exactly 7 o’clock, an older priest in layered grey robes stepped forward. His face was gentle but lined with age, and he carried a long staff wrapped in pale cloth. He raised his hand, and the chattering around the clearing fell into a hush.

He leaned toward the woodpile, chanting softly. Then he bent low, touching a flame from a small, holy lantern to the base of the stacked logs. The moment the fire caught, a hush turned into a collective breath—crackling wood sent warm sparks spiraling up into the darkening sky. The flames rose high and steady, licking the flowers and charms tied to the logs, their shadows dancing across every face in the circle.

Ruby, like everyone else, lowered herself to her knees, pressing her forehead gently to the ground three times—kowtowing in silent respect. She could hear Karl muttering his wish under his breath, probably about Soulstream again. Milo’s eyes were closed tight, his hands pressed together so earnestly that Ruby wanted to laugh.

When everyone rose, the priest lifted his staff and began to speak, his voice deep but kind, rolling smoothly across the circle of families.

"Ghost God watches over us tonight," he said, his eyes reflecting the flames. "This fire is our promise and our prayer that our homes stay safe, our crops grow strong, and the rains, when they come, wash away only what must be washed away."

He paused, looking out across the gathering. "According to the old calculations, the rains will begin next week. They may test us, but they will also feed the soil. May the spirits show us mercy, and may the coming days be lighter on our people."

Around Ruby, a soft murmur of relief spread through the villagers. A few elders wiped their eyes, and children leaned closer to their parents, listening to the comforting crackle of the holy fire.

Ruby exhaled slowly, her eyes reflecting the flames—her heart warm with hope for what was to come.

Then, as the holy flames danced higher into the night sky, one by one the villagers began to light their bundles of incense and scented sticks. Wisps of fragrant smoke rose into the air—sweet and woody, mixed with dried flowers and herbs—curling around the circle of people like a gentle embrace. The whole area slowly filled with that familiar sacred scent, soft but powerful, making the air feel almost otherworldly for a while.

Karl inhaled so deeply he nearly sneezed, earning a playful elbow from Milo, who was carefully placing his incense stick into the clay pot by their feet. Julian watched over them with that small, quiet smile, while Angeline and her husband stood together, their hands clasped in front of them.

Ruby held her own incense stick in her fingers for a moment, eyes reflecting the flickering orange and gold of the flames. She lowered it toward the fire, letting the tip catch and smolder before she planted it upright in the small sand-filled bowl beside her feet.

The old priest, standing a little closer to the fire now, tapped his staff lightly on the stone at his feet. The soft chatter and laughter hushed almost instantly. He lifted his face, eyes half-shadowed by the rising smoke.

"Listen, all of you," he began, voice deep and worn like the old stories themselves. "Tonight, we offer our thanks and our promise—just as our people did long before us."

He turned slightly, looking around the circle, catching each face in the dancing light.

"Long ago," he said, "it was said that the rains were the tears of the restless ones. When the ground grew poisoned by greed and cruelty, the rain came down to wash it clean. But when the rain touched the world, it did not feed it—it burned it."

—To be continued...🪄

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