“In this year of Our Lord, 1567, we do declare this island and her people to be subjects of the Realm. Ye shall pay homage to the crown in yearly taxes and shall obey the Laws of the Realm!”
The Governor looked up from his parchment and saw the stubborn eyes of the savages.
“Those who disobey the Law shall be punished to its full extent with imprisonment and hard labor in the fields.”
He paused and took a sip of rum.
“This decree and the terms herein are non-negotiable!”
Next to the Governor stood Li-atrime, the “former” ruler of these people and the matriarch of the island. Her face was defiant. Hidden in her hand she held a broken glass rock. Its edge was jagged and sharp. Her gaze fell upon the throat of her “Governor” and she longed to make it the home of her crystalline possession.
In the distance, the volcano roared. After all these years their God was stirring awake. The people of the island smiled while the Governor and his guards cowered.
There was one law of this land. Its name- fire.