At the heart of the Dacian village, a lively dance unfolds beneath a star-studded sky. Villagers move to the beat of drums, their laughter echoing through the night. At the center, Zalmoxis stands, a silent sentinel, surrounded by the rhythmic sway of joyful celebration. The flickering fire casts an enchanting glow on his stoic figure, observing with pride as his warrior tribe revels in the ancient dance of festivity. As the dance peaks, Zalmoxis' with a voice like a whispering breeze, speaks to his people: My brave Dacians, united we stand, our strength woven, tonight we party to our heart's desire. Tomorrow, we shall go to war!