Kamaile by Joni Keamoai

Ka Hanu 'o Ka Aina ⛰️🌱🌬️

Kamaile

The world was quiet now.
No more sobbing. No more pleading. Just the soft rush of wind brushing through the unseen veil.

Alohi's throat burned from crying, her lips cracked and dry. Her eyes—swollen and red—felt like they belonged to someone else. She rubbed at them weakly, letting out a shaky breath.

"Okay, Alohi," she whispered hoarsely. "Focus. Think."

It was something her father always said when she'd panic during training. "When you don't know what to do—breathe, then think. The ʻāina always remembers what we forget."

So she breathed.
Slow, deep, deliberate.

Through her exhaustion, she noticed it—the faint sound of running water somewhere beyond the veil. A stream. Maybe more. The air smelled damp and fresh, like mountain mist after rain.

If she could find an access point, maybe she could drink. Maybe Kililau could meet her there, on the other side.

"Think," she repeated. "What did Papa teach you?"

Her mind began sorting itself like pages of an old notebook, every lesson falling into place.
    •    Kamaile was magical.
    •    It belonged solely to our ʻohana.
    •    Only our ʻohana—or those given permission—could enter.
    •    The land deed was in our possession.
    •    Even King Kaumualiʻi himself had never stepped foot here.
    •    The ʻāina listened. The ʻāina had breath.

Her breath hitched.
If the ʻāina listened... then it could hear me.

Her heart thumped in realization.
Maybe that was the key all along—not to fight the veil, but to speak to it.

"This is what you were preparing me for, huh, Papa?" she murmured, half-smiling through the salt crusting her cheeks. "This moment. This test."

But a darker thought crept in.
Tūtū Haliʻi.

Alohi shivered. Could she hear me right now? Could she see me?

Tūtū's powers weren't normal—Alohi knew that. She'd seen her create protection bubbles, bend wind, call rain, even shift the appearance of people and things. But was she herself a shapeshifter? Could she truly alter souls and forms?

Her stomach twisted. "If she can read minds, I'm in trouble."

Then another thought hit—Naʻeole.

Her tears threatened to rise again, but she blinked hard. "No, Alohi. Focus. This could help you."

If no one had come to find her yet, maybe they were under a spell too.
But Naʻeole wasn't someone who could be easily fooled. His mana was strong, old, and wise—like the currents of Kauaʻi itself.

Kanaʻi, his son, was powerful too, but still learning. Naʻeole... no, he wouldn't fall under a spell.

And Papa? Her chest clenched. If he was under one, then maybe—maybe he'd allowed it. So she could rise to this challenge. So she could prove herself.

"But Kililau..." she whispered, staring up through the shimmer of the veil, searching for a flash of emerald and gold. "Why did she turn you into a bird?"

Her mind whirred—every compartment opening at once.
What about his ʻohana? What about their ties to Tūtū Haliʻi?

Wait.
That's it.

Tūtū had always been close to Kililau's family. Maybe... maybe she was protecting him too. Or testing both of them.

Taking a deep breath, Alohi straightened her back, pressing her palms to the glowing surface.