Shadows of Pele: The Lava-Claimed Temple of Human Sacrifice at Wahaʻula
by M.P. Pellicer | Noir Notebook
On June 7, 2023, Kīlauea volcano erupted once more, sending molten fury across its summit crater. Yet this was far from the first awakening of the fire goddess. In 1997, a slow, relentless lava flow advanced toward a 700-year-old temple, ultimately destroying the sacred site where human sacrifices had long been carried out in secrecy.
Kīlauea stands as the most active volcano on the island of Hawaiʻi and one of the most restless in the world. It is revered as the eternal home of Pelehonuamea — Pele — whose spirit is said to dwell within the persistently active Halemaʻumaʻu crater, a place of simmering power and ancient wrath.
In 1997, rivers of lava crept inexorably toward Wahaʻula Heiau, known in ancient times as Ahaʻula. This was the first sacrificial temple erected in Hawaiʻi by the legendary voyager Paʻao. The five-foot-high stone walls offered no protection. Many had believed Pele would spare the temple dedicated in her shadow — until the lava claimed it.
The temple’s origins are entwined with the enigmatic legend of Paʻao, who is said to have sailed from Tahiti or Samoa in the 13th century. Though archaeologists question whether such a figure truly existed, native traditions hold that he introduced the luakini heiau — sacred enclosures where both human and animal blood sacrifices were offered to the gods.
Whether real or mythic, Paʻao is credited with raising Wahaʻula Heiau near the place called Wahaʻula, meaning “Red Mouth.” For centuries, only royalty could worship there, and even high-born women were forbidden beyond the first terrace. The ceremonies were concealed behind high stone walls, hiding the rituals from the eyes of the common people.
King Kamehameha I dedicated the temple to the war god Kūkaʻilimoku. Before Paʻao’s reforms, religious rites had been more open. He is said to have transformed the practices by instituting hereditary priesthood, wooden temple images, and the hidden, walled heiau. The smoke from Wahaʻula’s fires was so sacred that if it fell upon any person — even a chief — it was considered an offering to the gods, punishable by death. Victims were slain at the main entrance.
Further along the North Kohala coast stands Moʻokini Luakini Heiau, the second temple ordered by Paʻao. Believed by some to date back as far as 480 A.D., its six-foot walls once enclosed rituals of profound darkness. Religious traditions shifted between 1000 and 1300 A.D. to include human sacrifice on a large scale. It is whispered that thousands met their end there; their bodies were flayed, and bones repurposed for tools such as fishhooks.
Not far offshore in Pelekane Bay lay Hale O Kapuni, a submerged temple once used to appease the shark god Kauhuhu, regarded as a fierce protector. Victims were left upon a stone in the ocean to be devoured by sharks. The ruins were last glimpsed during low tide in the 1950s; today they rest beneath the waves in waters said to serve as a breeding ground for sharks.
Nearby, a chief named Alapaʻi was known to sit beneath a kiawe tree above Mailekini Heiau, using human flesh as bait while he watched sharks feed on the offerings. Some believe high chiefs deliberately conditioned the sharks through these rituals, making them easier to capture for sport.
Sacrifices were demanded on many occasions: the building of a house or canoe, preparation for war, the end of pestilence, or the breaking of sacred taboos. Victims met their fate through strangulation, bludgeoning, burning, burial, drowning, crushing beneath a new canoe, or decapitation.
Some believe that human sacrifice helped maintain a rigid class system, preventing any drift toward equality. Most victims were drawn from the lower classes or slaves, though even elites could face punishment — or substitute a lesser life to atone for their own transgressions.
A chilling example occurred in 1804, when Kamehameha’s army of 8,000 was devastated by yellow fever on Oʻahu; more than half his force died. A sacrifice was ordered at a heiau to appease the gods and restore strength.
It was described by the Journal of Tyerman and Bennet, 1832, in this way:
The priests recommended a ten days’ tabu, the sacrifice of three human victims, four hundred hogs, as many cocoa-nuts, and an equal number of branches of plantains.
Three men, who had been guilty of the enormous turpitude of eating cocoanuts with the old queen, were accordingly seized and led to the marae.
But there being yet three days before the offerings could be duly presented, the eyes of the victims were scooped out, the bones of their arms and legs were broken, and they were then deposited in a house, to await the coup de grace on the day of sacrifice.
While these maimed and miserable creatures were in the height of their suffering, some persons, moved by curiosity, visited them in prison, and found them neither raving nor desponding, but sullenly singing the national huru (anthem) – dull as the drone of a bagpipe, and hardly more variable – as though they were insensible of the past, and indifferent to the future.
When the slaughtering time arrived, one of them was placed under the legs of the idol, and the other two were laid, with the hogs and fruit, upon the altar-frame. They were then beaten with clubs upon the shoulders till they died of the blows.
This was told us by an eye-witness of the murderous spectacle. And thus men kill one another, and think that they do God service.
Even after the arrival of Christian missionaries and the official end of the old religion in 1819, traces of these dark practices lingered. The grass houses of the priests were burned, wooden idols destroyed, yet the stone walls and floors remained — silent witnesses.
The last known sacrifice is thought to have taken place in 1809, when a young man named Kanihonui was strangled at Papaʻenaʻena Heiau on Leʻahi (Diamond Head) for the crime of adultery with Kaʻahumanu, the powerful wife of Kamehameha I.
A haunting account from 1904 describes a visit to the site: “visitors were shown a small cove at the southern end of Wahaʻula, deep among the jagged bluffs of Puna’s coastline, where the bones of the slain were washed — a place still known as Holoinaiwi.” (Thrum, 1904)
In the shadow of Kīlauea, where Pele’s breath still stirs the earth, the memory of Wahaʻula endures. The temple may lie buried beneath layers of cooled lava, but the echoes of its red mouth — and the secrets it once devoured — continue to whisper through the volcanic mists.
In ancient Hawaiʻi, a rigid caste system governed life and death. The high-ranking aliʻi stood at the apex, followed by the commoners known as makaʻāinana. A middle tier, the konohiki, managed lands and resources. Priests, the kahuna, existed in a realm of their own spiritual authority. At the very bottom languished the kauwa — untouchables born into despised status. Any kauwa who ate, slept, or allowed their shadow to fall upon an ordinary person faced immediate death.
Unlike many other societies, a child’s rank was determined primarily by the mother’s status; a lower-ranked father brought no shame.
The kapu system enforced strict prohibitions and sacred rules. The most powerful kapu belonged to the highest chiefs: all those of lesser rank were required to prostrate themselves face down upon the ground in their presence. Disobedience meant death. While most Polynesian cultures permitted marriage within the same social level, Hawaiian aliʻi practiced unions with the closest female relatives — including full brothers and sisters. This “Hawaiian royal incest” was believed to produce children of divine rank, equal to the gods themselves. The most exalted and revered bond was that between a full brother and sister of the highest lineage.
At Kealakekua Bay, Hikiʻau Heiau — a luakini temple measuring 250 feet long by 100 feet wide — was visited by Captain James Cook in 1778–1779, when the islands were still known to outsiders as the Sandwich Islands. It was here that Cook performed the first Christian ceremony in Hawaiʻi: a funeral rite for one of his own crew members. The natives initially regarded Cook as the living incarnation of their god Lono. Yet when his ships returned weeks later after a broken mast, the illusion shattered. The Christian funeral further confirmed the visitors’ mortality.
A long boat from Cook’s ship, the Discovery, vanished. In response, his crew seized a local man as a hostage. High Chief Kalaniʻōpuʻu boarded the vessel to negotiate. It is believed Cook then attempted to take the chief hostage instead. Natives gathered on the shore, many armed, and drove the English back toward the water. A skirmish erupted. Cook was stabbed to death in the shallow surf. Four of his crew and approximately sixteen Hawaiians also perished. Years before commanding the HMS Bounty, William Bligh claimed to have watched from the Resolution as Cook’s body was dragged up a hill and carried to a village, where it was dismembered.
Rumors of cannibalism circulated, yet this was not a Hawaiian practice. Instead, Cook’s remains were prepared in the manner reserved for high chiefs: the torso was disemboweled, the body baked to remove the flesh, and the bones — considered profoundly sacred — were carefully preserved and distributed among the villages. Some of his remains were eventually returned to the crew for a burial at sea. This had been Cook’s third voyage of discovery.
In 1908, skulls and skeletons believed to be remnants of human sacrifices were unearthed at a ruined heiau in Kona, not far from the site of Cook’s death.
Centuries later, on August 8, 2023, the historic town of Lahaina on Maui was ravaged by ferocious wildfires. Fueled by powerful winds stirred by distant Hurricane Dora, the flames spread with terrifying speed. Over 2,200 structures were destroyed and more than 2,000 acres burned. Much of the Lahaina Historic District lay in ruins. The exact death toll remained uncertain for weeks and eventually settled at 106. The exact number of children who died is unknown because officials have not released a specific count as of the current date, citing privacy concerns. This flies in the face of a statement by Josh Green, the Governor, claiming many of the victims were children, since school was not in session on the day of the fire.
The Maui fire was the deadliest wildfire in modern U.S. history. Many residents were forced to flee into the ocean to escape the inferno. Accusations were leveled against government officials, utility companies, and emergency responders for delayed warnings and obstacles that hindered evacuation.
Lahaina had burned before — on New Year’s Day 1919, when more than thirty buildings were lost — yet the 2023 destruction eclipsed all previous disasters.
Over 2,200 structures were destroyed, and the disaster resulted in an estimated $5.5 billion in damages. As of early 2026, two years after the event, the community is in the rebuilding phase, though many residents still face psychological trauma.
Dark suspicions linger that the fires may have been deliberately set — or at least exploited — to seize control of valuable land long held by native Hawaiian families, land now estimated to be worth billions.
Exactly one month after the Lahaina fires began their devastating march, Kīlauea stirred once again. On September 10–11, 2023, the volcano erupted within Halemaʻumaʻu crater. Volcanic smog drifted downwind, the alert level was raised to warning, and the aviation color code turned red as scientists monitored the unfolding hazards.
Tourism represented 70% of every dollar generated in Maui. A year after the devastating fire it’s not even close to returning to pre-fire levels.
The old gods seem never to rest. As lava once claimed the blood-soaked stones of Wahaʻula, and flames later consumed Lahaina’s historic heart, the islands continue to whisper of Pele’s enduring temper. This mysterious force devours, renews, and remembers.
