Chapter 1

It was a long day of walking, their feet aching. Nuri and Zola had been given the okay by their eldest sister Hawa to explore around the capital of Kemet, Napata. 

“Go crazy, it’s your birthday, and you’re off the clock.” Her words echoed in Nuri’s mind.

Napata seemed to come alive as the sun set; the suffocating architecture of the day was turned into a canvas of lights and colors as the lanterns glowed with hues, the light bouncing off of Nuri and Zola’s umber skin. 

Each lantern glowed with five colors, one for each kingdom, or for each baraza, no one remembered anymore. The lights truly outlined the beautiful architecture of the city's upper echelons. The streets were flooded with people, native Napatans and tourists alike. Napata was the biggest city in Enzi, and now more than ever Nuri could feel it. It was a beacon of Imra’s grace, and a testament to Ikram’s guidance. And Nuri loved it: the warmth of connection. I wish it was always like this, he thought.

 Then the people themselves. They were adorned in vibrant colors that flowed alongside their movements, the geometric patterns within creating a hypnotic show. Children ran around wearing the masks of the five sages, the bestial protectors of the kingdoms. People spoke in various tongues, their dialect a mystery to Nuri’s ears.  

The smell of food was carried along the streets by the drifting winds, vendors yelled and waved down people, trying everything they could to get some coin. 

People pushed, people yelled, people laughed, and cried all for the festival. This festival, for the arrival of the Mizhar. Them being here, so far from the Baraza of Diwan was a sign, a sign that a new set would be discovered, people born with the dormant gift… of sorcery.

A gift that Nuri himself always envied, one he always desired.

"Nuri! You should go, you never know if you might be one of the Mizhar." Zola bumped him with her elbow; she, despite being his elder by two years, had an energetic and brash demeanor that it wasn't uncommon for others to mistake her as younger. Not to mention she's simply shorter than him. "You'd be the first of our family, other than our mother."

Nuri sighed, pushed his locs back, and chuckled. "I couldn't, being denied again would just be embarrassing…” he glanced away from her as he continued. “Besides, I don’t need to be a Mizhar to feel fulfilled. I’ve got y’all… I don’t need magic." His soft smile turned indignant when he noticed Zola biting her bottom lip, shoulders shivering with a snicker. "Hey, what's with the face?!"

She burst into laughter, "I'd have never thought Nuri 'I wanna be a Mizhar!' Usiku would ever have the gall to act as though he doesn't want to go to a divination ceremony!" She put her hand on his back. "I know Hawa can definitely be annoying.” she grumbled “But she does say one thing I agree with, it's better to fail and learn than to go through a life of ignorance!" She shoved Nuri through the crowd that had begun to accumulate. 

“Z-Zola no!” Nuri tried to push back but her stature belied her strength as she shoved onwards.

She used him as a battering ram, pushing through families, “sorry!” And drunkards who’d curse at them, “coming through!” Until they made it to the front. 

“Zola I can’t believe you’d do… that…” Nuri's eyes lit up as he gazed upon the Mizhar, they danced together, one dressed in blue and white, their movements were sharp, powerful, followed by beautiful scarlet flames. The other was dressed in violets and gold, their movements were slow and flowing, reminiscent of the myths tied to Ruhardhi, the river of life.

Zola crossed her arms and put on a bold grin. “See, told you you’d wanna see it!”

"That was incredibly foolish. But… thank you for this Zo, it’s… been so long since I’ve seen it." He hugged Zola tightly, when all of a sudden, he heard the words he had once dreamed of hearing once more.

"Welcome people of Napata, Kemet!” The first Mizhar spoke, her hair was a crown of braids, flowing in the winds of the night alongside the blue veil that adorned it.  “I am Jasiri of Diwan, and this is my companion Maryam of Khizana!" Jasiri's eyes carried a warmth within them as she gazed upon Maryam, the Mizhar adorned in violet and gold, her face hidden beneath a shroud. She bowed in response before standing tall and throwing azure sands up into the air which took the shape of a beautiful birdlike being, it took flight over the crowd as Jasiri continued her speech. 

"I'm sure you have all heard the news, the stars have aligned, Ikram has spoken, another batch has begun to bloom within this very city!" 

People began to cheer, mothers holding up their infants, youths holding out their hands yelling, hoping, praying that that person might just be them, all while Nuri's eyes followed the bird, watching it fly through the sky above them, he didn't even notice the ball of light beginning to form above the stage in front of him. Maryam began to dance once more as Jasiri watched, the bird above following her movements, a hypnotic display of finesse and control. She dropped to her knees, slamming her hand against the ground, and the bird followed suit, descending from its place in the sky into the orb of light. 

A pulse went through the sea of people, and slowly flames of varying sizes flickered over their hearts. But there was no flame for Nuri. His mind flickered to every ceremony beforehand, it was the same thing, over and over. He clenched his fist, cursing himself for expecting anything new.

Zola looked over at him, she saw his furious expression, teeth gritting, black eyes fixed on the Mizhar, muttering to himself. “Eh fuckem,” she patted his shoulder. “You don’t need to be one of those stuck up assholes anyways." She began to walk away, she clearly expected him to follow suit.

Nuri stayed staring, eyes still set on the orb of light. He felt something bubbling in his chest, something old, familiar, yet still so alien.

“Yo Nuri, come on!”

“Huh…?” He snapped out of his daze. “Oh yeah… I’m coming!”

As they walked away Nuri heard a few words that caught his attention. “Tonight's dance was a showing of what’s to come! Make sure those who can travel do so to Kush, as soon the sage Dhoruba will be doing his descent once more! So come to the great tree of Shamba, and see him sit atop the canopy!”

They continued onward into the night. They had decided to start making their way back towards Hawa, and so they found themselves in the lower areas of the capital. 

Pipes flowed, smog plumes wafted around, carrying the smell of death alongside them. Buildings were stacked atop each other, built into each other, cars dotted the cracked streets. They glanced side to side, keeping an eye out, catching glimpses of people within the shadows. Many having various makeshift enhancements built into their bodies, and many more had eyes that glimmered with scarlet… scarlet of Iblis, a drug Hawa refused to deal in many times before.

 Zola had continued her excited ranting into the night, refusing to let the darkness of the area consume the flame of her spirit. She kept Nuri close, kept him occupied, letting his mind drift away from the fury of earlier.

She grabbed a kebab from a random vendor, he gave it for free, and was gone the next moment. She shrugged. “More money for me.” she flipped a coin before placing it back in her pocket.

They found a place to sit as Zola ate. Nuri was quiet as she munched on the kebab, his mind trying to pull him back to it, back to the orb, to the Mizhar, but the sound of Zola’s voice pulled him back to the present. “You know…” Chomp! “Hmm…?” 

Her speech was interrupted by confused hums as she chewed. “Huh, tastes odd… meh whatever.” She shrugged as she took another big bite before tossing it on the ground, where a collection of mice promptly snatched it up. 

“You know… I’m gonna have to tell Hamisi you’re wasting food once we get home.” Nuri said with a smirk.

“Woah woah woah! Hey lets not be rash alright?” She put an arm across his shoulder. “We’re brother and sister from other misters, where’s the loyalty man?”

He shrugged, leaning back in his seat. “Guess it died once you broke YOUR promise not to waste anything.”

She punched his back causing him to exhale sharply. “That was like eight years ago, and that kebab was shitty anyways.” 

She noticed a stall with different desserts, as well as… chocolates. She smirked as she put on a haughty act. “I guess you won’t be needing any of those.” She gestured to them.

Nuri suddenly, very painfully, remembered he spent his last gold to buy a new whip. He groaned and rolled his eyes as he conceded. “Fine I won’t tell him, can you please buy me some? You know how rarely we get dessert imports from Sawahil.” 

“And what do I get?”

“Me not also telling Hamisi about Layla—” 

She bolted over to the stall and came back with three bars. She handed him two. “Sheesh, I’m gonna get something on you two one day.”

He happily took a triumphant bite. “Sorry, I’ve got a clean record~”

“I'm tired of spoiling you any more than you’ve been already.” She rolled her eyes with a smirk.

“Well it is my birthday.” He shrugged.

They eventually stood once more, continuing their search as the moon rose higher. As they walked, falling into a steady stride they had begun to talk about the future, how things would change, and what wouldn’t. Nuri chuckled, it was a soft sound, as he tossed an arm around her, voice warm with affection. "I'll always be me Zozo! What makes you think I’m so susceptible to change?"

"We all are! It’s part of being human man. I used to hate bredie but now I understand that I was a dumb picky kid, now I ask for it all the time. Who knows how your tastes may change."

“I mean that's inevitable, but like you’ve been talking as though me being around anyone else is gonna cause me to shift into a whole new person.”

She shrugged, “I mean out of all of us you’ve spent the least time away from the manor, and even less time just out on your own. I know you’re gonna have to one day but I don't know…” She looked down as she mumbled. “I’m gonna miss my baby brother.”

Nuri paused at that. He had never really thought about how little of the world he’s experienced, how much is still out there, what strength he’s had yet to encounter. “Zola..” She looked up at him, and saw a warmth in his eyes despite their darkness, the void of his irises somehow shined with love. “I promise you, no matter what happens, I’ll always be me. Even if there are things that are different, it’ll just be from me… understanding myself more, not from anyone changing me. Alright?”

Her eyes began to well with tears that she quickly shook away. “Yeah yeah, just make sure you don’t forget about all the shit you owe me for alright? And… make sure you visit. We don’t need the house feeling any more empty than it already is.”

“I’ll do my best.” He put out a fist.

She pressed her own against it. “You better.”

Eventually their little journey came to an end as they found Hawa sitting outside an old meager diner. Once they were near it wasn't hard to find her, a staggering six foot six, thick limbs, a beautiful mane of dark curls catching the green light of the lantern sat on the table, the same light bringing a warmth to the brown of her eyes. She was a unit, seated with her book open as she ate; an ashtray sat near her. "Yo Hawa!" Zola called out.

Hawa glanced up from her book, "Looks like the two babies are back." She looked between the two.

“Eighteen and twenty alright? I’m a grown woman.” Zola crossed her arms in mock annoyance. “Anyways, we heading out?”

Hawa closed her book and stood up, placing it into her satchel. “Yeah, I bought Zahara and Hamisi some food and I don’t want it to get cold before we get there.” She looked over to Nuri. “Did you get to see the divination ceremony?”

Zola looked over at Nuri, she was gonna answer for him but he put on a smile and spoke up. “Yeah, it was crowded though so we didn’t get to see too much. There’s always next year though. And hey, I’d love for Zaza and Sisi to come with us too, and who knows, maybe he’d get picked.” He chuckled. “Though he may be a little too old.”

Hawa looked over to Zola, who avoided her gaze, the silence was suffocating, but Nuri’s smile didn’t break. Hawa handed Nuri something, though it was wrapped so he couldn’t see. 

He looked down at it confused. His mind ran through questions, why now? Why after he’s failed yet again? “W… why—”

“Come on to the car, we’ve got a long ride back, and an especially starry night.” She patted Nuri’s shoulder and led him away. She whispered to him, “You’ll know when to open it, you’re a big kid now aren’t ya’?”

All Nuri could do was nod.

Chapter 2

After a long journey they made it back to their home, a sprawling manor framed by a small village. A few lights dotted the many windows of the village homes, each one like a star in the night sky, little sparks of the beautiful warm lives lived within. The manor sat like the moon, pale, opulent—with its light a beacon for all those who lived around it, and for our three siblings returning home.

As they rode up the few villagers still awake waved at them, faces filled with varying emotions; admiration, gratitude, and respect, all for the woman who gave them and their families a chance here. Hawa waved back, her face filled with a pride that Nuri had yet to see waver when gazing upon the village. She was thirteen when Nuri was born, and he watched as she fought and bled for this, these faces, these lives.

They all made it to the manor. They parked within the driveway and came to the door, a monument of dark wood, carved with swirls that framed the window like a watchful eye. The doors were opened and they entered, immediately greeted with the housekeeper Zahara and the butler Hamisi… well that’s what they were formally, but in truth they were a mother and father, to a loving group of seven children, three of which they were welcoming back home right now in the middle of the two lovers dancing together.  

Zahara finally noticed them and her smile widened. “There’s the birthday boy!” She opened her arms wide and hugged Nuri tight. “How was the trip to Napata? I know you’ve always loved the big city.” She pinched his cheek.

“It was great as always Zaza, now come on I’m eighteen now, there's no need to do all this.”

Her face straightened and her voice immediately dropped an octave. She pinched his ear and pulled him down to her eye level.

“I raised you, young man. If you don’t let me be excited for you coming of age I’ll have you working out there with the Pavari boys again. I’m sure their father would be happy to have the extra hands.”

“Hello Zahara,” Hawa cut in kissing her cheek. “I do hope you and Hamisi haven’t been overworking yourselves, nor do I hope you’ve been too hard on the new arrivals.” Hawa smirked as she raised an eyebrow.

Zahara lifted her head in pride, releasing Nuri’s ear with one last sideways glance. “Oh you know any difficulty we place upon them is needed for growth, a tree doesn’t grow from a calm mist you know, it must endure the weight of the rain before its roots learn to hold.” 

Hawa chuckled. “Now we both know you stole that line from Hamisi.”

Hamisi let out a silent chuckle but Zahara retaliated, bopping him on the head with her broom. Despite her stern retaliation, she herself let out a soft, mischievous giggle. “I see you’ve been reading his works, huh? They’re chock-full of great advice for those entering adulthood." She raised an eyebrow to Hawa.

“I'm thirty-one, Zahara. I’m long past ‘entering’ adulthood. But yes I have.” She nodded as she leaned down and placed an arm around Zola. “I’ve been trying to get Zola to read them as well,” she then stood up straight and placed her hand atop Zola’s head. “But to no avail.”

“H-Hey you’re making it sound like I don’t want to!” She playfully swatted away Hawa’s hand. She sighed as she stepped forward and hugged Hamisi tight, letting her weight fall against him. “Sorry Oba it’s truly not just your works, I’m not much of a reader anyways… and it’s not my fault the only two siblings I still have living here are bookworms.” She shot a glare at both Nuri and Hawa. 

Hamisi simply nodded with a kind smile and signed that he understood. He began to chuckle once more as he stated he wasn’t much of a reader himself and that it was more of Zahara’s thing. He then wondered if Zola would ever find someone to read whatever story she’d come to write, causing her face to warm. 

“Pshh, please. I write for me, myself, and I!” She boasted proudly before heading up the stairs. As she walked she gripped her stomach. “Ugh… I’m gonna go take me a shower. My stomach is killing me…”

Zahara went to follow her, “Let me grab you some medicine okay? I know you have a habit of forgetting where it is.” Her voice disappeared up the steps.

And so there were three, Hamisi signed.

Though not for long, as Hawa was handed a drink by a maid who whispered something to her. “Looks like I’m gonna have to leave you two for the night, duty calls.” She patted Nuri’s head. “Let’s talk in the morning, yeah? Just us two, like old times.” 

Nuri was about to brush it off, but he saw her eyes. There was a weight behind her gaze, and it was one he knew well. “Alright… yeah, tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow.” She went up the stairs herself sipping the tea as she stepped. And so Nuri and Hamisi were left with nothing but each other for the night.

Well come on then, Hamisi signed. You’re eighteen now, let’s talk about it, yes?

They sat peacefully within the living room. A few lamps were lit, illuminating the night with a soft warmth, one Nuri couldn’t help but associate with memories of times that now seemed so long ago as he looked around a living room that carried years of them in even the smallest chair. That chair was one he and Zola would argue over sitting in as though it were the throne of Imra herself. Despite their childhood obsession, it was small and rusted, and if Nuri sat in it now, it would break. 

All this warmth caused Nuri to begin opening up. He told Hamisi about his life outside of the family. And Hamisi? He was happy to know that Nuri had a life beyond them, happy to know that their walls of safety hadn’t become a cage. Hamisi eventually stood and walked over to a cabinet. Nuri watched as he unlocked it, wondering what could possibly be deserving of its own special key. 

Nuri was dumbfounded as Hamisi pulled out a bottle labeled in a language Nuri didn’t recognize. That was in there all that time? he thought, remembering how he had tried to pick the lock with Zola as children, to no avail.

Hamisi opened the bottle and took a slow inhale, letting out a sigh as he nodded. Finally, he signed, asking, Before you leave me too, I had been wondering if I ever told you the myth of death’s debt?

“Uhh I don’t think you have, actually… but you know I love your tales.” Nuri leaned in, listening like a child, eyes filled with curiosity.

Hamisi's hands moved slow and deliberately, the way they always did when handling something delicate, something he valued. He poured a glass for himself, and one for Nuri. His old rocking chair creaked as his weight settled. The rim of the glass met his lips as he took a slow, appreciative sip, silently exhaling with a smile. He settled into a tranquility that Nuri only saw when he was saying something he deeply cared about telling right. 

This is one I tell all my children, he signed, and let the word sit there a moment before continuing, plain and unhurried, like it wasn't anything worth making a fuss over. Every one of you, once you're old enough to sit still and actually listen. Hawa got it first. Then the others, one by one, whenever the moment felt right. He tapped his own chest lightly. I suppose I simply hadn't found yours yet.

Nuri's chin was propped in his palm, his drink untouched. He was watching Hamisi’s hands with the same rapt attention he'd given every story since he was small enough to be carried up to bed after falling asleep mid-telling.

Long before Diwan, before Ngome, before any of the Barazas carried the names they carry now, there was an old belief. His hands shaped the words unhurried, deliberate. That life is lent, not given. That every soul who slips from death's grip, by luck, by mercy, or by someone else's sacrifice, walks away owing something back.

"Owing what, exactly?"

Nobody agrees on that part. A dry, silent laugh moved through him. Some say it's simply weight, waiting to find you again someday. Others say it's a duty, an unfinished thing you're meant to complete before you're allowed to rest properly. He shrugged, easy, unbothered. I've heard a dozen versions over the years. I told each of your siblings the version that fit them best at the time.

"And what version do I get?"

Hamisi studied him for a long moment, something warm and considerate behind his eyes.

The honest one, he signed finally. I don't believe it, not really. I've known reckless fools cheat death twice and live long, dull lives after. I've known gentle, careful people struck down owing nothing at all. He tapped the old scar at his throat, the one none of them had ever needed him to explain twice. I think people just need a shape to hang their fear on. A story is easier to hold than an ending with no reason attached to it.

"Then why tell it at all? If you don't believe it."

Because it's mine to give you. Hamisi signed it simply, like that alone was reason enough. Every one of your siblings has this story from me. Something small, something that's only ours, passed down the way blood usually does it in other families. His hand rested, briefly, warm and weathered, against Nuri's shoulder. I never carried you in my blood, boy. But you are mine all the same, and I intend for you to have everything the others got, story included.

Nuri's throat felt tight in a way he didn't have words ready for.

"Thank you," he finally managed, quiet, "for finally finding my moment."

You were worth the wait, Hamisi signed, and smiled the same dry, warm smile he always did when he meant something more than the words alone could carry.

Nuri sat with that for a while, the sting of tears beginning to burn his eyes as he hugged Hamisi tightly, who in turn hugged him back, his hands patted Nuri’s back with a calming, comforting rhythm; just like he’d do when he was a toddler all those years ago.

Now… would you drink already? You shouldn’t keep your old man waiting. He gave a bold smile.

All Nuri could do was laugh. Hamisi never lost that spark, never let what he couldn’t do prevent him from doing everything he could. So, Nuri grabbed his own glass and took a sip, letting himself dream of the limits he had yet to reach, and what paths they may force him down.

Chapter 3

They paced their drinks carefully as they drank into the night, savoring the flavor as the warmth built in their chests, a warmth of alcohol, a warmth of camaraderie, a warmth that had yet to fully fade when the window exploded inward.

There was no warning to it, no build, no sound before the break; just glass flying across the room in a hail of jagged light, and through it, a body, already broken before it ever hit the floor.

Nuri's ears rang. For one suspended second, neither of them moved.

Then instinct took over. He was on his feet, shoving the low table aside, already crouching over the stranger crumpled amid the glass; a young man, barely older than Nuri himself, blood soaking through a merchant's coat that had never been built to stop whatever had torn through him.

"Hamisi—" Nuri's voice cracked. "Hamisi, it’s Arjun Pavari—"

Hamisi was already moving, faster than Nuri had ever seen him move, years of quiet stillness dropping away in an instant. He knelt at Arjun's other side, hands flying through a rapid, urgent stream of signs Nuri didn't have time to fully read; pressure here— don't move him— something about the wound's depth.

Arjun's eyes fluttered open, glassy, panicked, fixing on Nuri with a desperation that made his stomach drop.

"They're—" Arjun gasped, blood bubbling at his lips, "—they're still coming. I couldn't—I tried to warn—"

Outside, past the shattered window, three figures moved through the dark garden. Slow. Deliberate. Not fleeing.

Hunting.

Hamisi's head snapped up, following Nuri's gaze toward the broken glass, and something in his expression shifted, the warmth from moments ago replaced entirely by a cold, focused calm Nuri had never once seen on him before.

He signed something short, sharp, unmistakable even through the chaos.

Get him upstairs. Now.

Nuri nodded as he threw the man over his shoulder and dashed upstairs, leaving Hamisi downstairs. Hamisi reached into his pockets, and pulled out a pair of bracelets. He slapped them upon his wrists, and clenched his fists as gauntlets formed around them. He stood ready for any oncoming strike, the piercing silence dancing with the frigid air of the night. The figures came out of the dark, slow, unhurried, the way predators move when they already believe the outcome is settled.

The three of them; cloaked, faces obscured behind masks, a hyena, a vulture, and a leopard. The hyena stepped through the shattered window frame without hesitation, glass crunching under his boot. His eyes were obscured by the mask, but the excitement in his voice was clear.

"Hamisi~" His voice carried a sickening sweetness. "Where’s the big lady at? You know she owes our father… a great debt."

Hamisi signed furiously: You won’t lay a finger on my daughter.

The hyena's mouth curled, amused. "Ah, I nearly forgot our last encounter." He gestured, sharp, and the two behind him spread wide, flanking. “I hate that you made me resort to such actions.” He summoned a khopesh to his hand, Hamisi’s eyes locked onto it for just a moment. “But I gave you what you wanted right? You didn’t have to tell us where she lives… you… ‘couldn’t’ yes?” He broke out into a vile cackle. But just as suddenly his voice dropped to a chilling whisper. “If you’re so willing to die for her, then please… let me be the one to grant your wish again!”

He lunged forward, colliding with Hamisi’s gauntlets. Hamisi's stance shifted, gauntlets humming faint with contained energy, and for the first time all night, something in his weathered face looked genuinely, coldly ready.

The leopard lunged, nails extending into claws.

Hamisi moved like a man decades younger than his hands suggested, a sidestep, a redirect, gauntlet catching the attacker's wrist and wrenching hard enough to send them crashing into the ruined remains of the coffee table. No hesitation. No wasted motion. Whatever this business had cost him over the years, it clearly hadn't cost him this. And yet, they stood, snapping their dislocated arm back into its socket.

The vulture came in low, blade flashing, and Hamisi caught the strike on his forearm, sparks scattering where enchanted steel met enchanted iron, before driving his own fist forward hard enough to crack against their jaw with a sound like breaking stone.

The hyena watched, unbothered, patient. "Impressive, for someone twice their age." He drew something from his own coat, dark, curved, humming with the same wrong, familiar energy that had put a scar on Hamisi's throat years ago. "Shame you never seem to learn that impressive doesn't mean invincible."

Upstairs, muffled through the floor and wall, Nuri could hear the confrontation. The crash of furniture, the low, awful hum of magic being drawn through metal. Every instinct in him screamed to go back down, his nails digging into his palm as he clenched his fist. He felt something beneath his skin, something rippling, pulsing in his chest. “No, no, not now…”

Hamisi's eyes flicked, briefly, toward the ceiling. Toward where Nuri had gone.

“So that's where she is,” the hyena smiled before snapping his fingers, sending the other two to go towards the stairs. Hamisi was about to turn to intercept them, but the hyena lunged, slinging the blunt end of his curved blade around Hamisi’s throat and slamming him to the ground. The other two intruders dashed beyond them, rushing towards the stairs.

Nuri heard them and stood at the top of the stairs just as the vulture rounded the landing, descending upon him. He saw their eyes widen in surprise within the darkness of the mask.

He didn't think, he moved. Body already answering before his mind fully caught up, he stepped back, misjudging the distance and colliding with the vulture, head to head. The impact sent them both sprawling, the vulture stunned on the ground, while Nuri sat a few feet away gripping his head in pain. But when Nuri heard a creak behind him he shot up, whipping around and twisting into a kick that caught the leopard across the jaw. Nuri hadn’t even registered they were there, but the kick sent them sideways into the upstairs hall.

They staggered, then caught themselves upright. No cry, no curse, nothing but heavy breathing and the soft scrape of boots resetting into stance.

Right, he thought, half-hysterical. They don't talk. Of course they don't talk.

The leopard came at him again, claws flashing, and Nuri twisted aside, using the narrow hallway wall as leverage, planting a foot against it and springing sideways to put himself behind his attacker. It was clumsy, more instinct than training, but it worked, and something in his chest lit up at the success of it, sharp and bright and entirely unfamiliar.

He drove an elbow into the leopard’s spine. The leopard staggered once more, but they came back swinging anyway.

Nuri ducked, weaved, felt his own breathing start to quicken not with fear but with something closer to exhilaration, some old, buried part of him waking up to the rhythm of it, the give and take, the split-second calculations his body was making faster than his conscious mind could track.

This is fine, he told himself, dodging another silent strike from the leopard. He drove his knee up into the leopard’s ribs hard enough to crack something. I've got this, I’ve got this.

His movements were getting wild, uncontrolled, cut after cut landing on his flesh, all while his mind screamed at him to stop toying around. But it felt so good.

The vulture was finally back on their feet, shaking away their momentary daze. They watched the fight carefully, then launched themselves up, landing on his shoulders, a hand atop his head pulling it back as they went for his throat, blade drawn. Nuri did his best to balance avoiding the leopard's wild claws as they circled around him, and keeping his throat clear of the vulture's assault. Eventually he decided to let them drive it into his shoulder instead, gritting his teeth as the blade dug into his flesh. 

They were about to pull it out, but he gripped their legs as he threw himself back, dropping his full weight down upon them. He heard a pained groan as the vulture passed out.

Nuri didn't think. He pivoted, grabbing their head and twisting.

The crack was audible even over the ringing in his ears.

The vulture went down in a silent heap, nothing but the sigh of life leaving the flesh.

Nuri stood over them, chest heaving, something dark and satisfied curling low in his gut at the sound.

I didn't mean to… they… they were gonna kill me, he told himself, even as something familiar returned to him. This feeling of power, this hunger for more. He looked over to the leopard and— SHUNCK 

“Wh…” He began to gargle as he tasted iron on his tongue. The leopard pulled their claws from his throat and went to grab the body of their fallen comrade. Nuri tried to hold his throat, but the bleeding was intense, and his vision was beginning to fade. 

He looked over to them, and all he could feel… was hate. 

Who do they think they are? They think they get to act like they care for each other, after coming after me? After my family?! He began to crawl towards them, his gaze flickering with symbols he couldn’t understand, symbols he didn’t care to understand as his fury strangled his mind. 

I won’t die like this, not today… not now… I… am… so… hungry…

Chapter 4

I'm… so hungry… eat… I must eat…

Many things, warm things, delicious things… familiar things.

No. Not them.

Hungry. So hungry.

It claws up from somewhere beneath thought, beneath name, beneath whatever it is that usually tells me what I am and am not allowed to want.

There are other things. Scared things. Quick things. Dead things.

Eat. Eat. Eat.

Chapter 5

“NURI! ARE YOU OKAY!?” He heard Zola’s voice, as she shook him into consciousness. “Oh my goodness… oh you’re alive.” She pulled him into a hug as she began sobbing. 

Nuri was quiet.

His gaze simply drifted beyond her, to the state of their home. He was back in the living room, it was absolutely ruined, covered in slashes and pillars shattered. 

He looked at his hands, and brought them up to feel his throat.

It was closed.

No scar..? 

Zola continued to hold him as she apologized over and over for not being there, for forcing him to go all out like that. 

His memory began to properly return to him, flashes of this horrid night. Hamisi… where… He didn’t see him in the wreckage. “Zola… where’s Hamisi?” 

She only sobbed harder, the world truly started to hit him as he heard other sobs too. 

No…

Screams. From someone he never thought he’d hear such sounds from. 

“Zahara?” He grabbed Zola’s shoulders, moving her so he could look into her eyes, and there he saw it, everything he needed to know about what had happened, all while he was in his little wonderland. “No…”

He stood but Zola grabbed his wrist, shaking her head no, just repeating over and over again, “It’s not your fault Nuri… you tried your best… please understand it’s not your fault.” 

Nuri looked down at her, his face soured into a pained expression as he continued walking towards Zahara, the closer he got the more he could hear another voice, a man, his voice was weak, but it was one Nuri recognized, from memories that felt oh so distant now. 

“Hey… It’s… so nice to be able to talk to you both again… how long has it been? A day?” He heard a rough chuckle that devolved into a coughing fit. 

Nuri entered the room and saw Hawa hugging Zahara tightly as she sobbed, and he looked over, against everything inside him screaming not to, and he saw Hamisi. 

“Hey little guy… when did you get so big?” 

Hamisi’s eyes were shaking, Nuri could see him fading. Nuri refused to look down, but in his peripherals he saw it, the aftermath of his fight with the hyena. Their arm in Hamisi’s hand, but Hamisi’s abdomen… Nuri’s face soured in pain as simply focused back on Hamisi’s face.

Nuri began to break down, trying so hard to hold on, to give Hamisi some peace. 

“Y-you know… I always… ate… w…” He just couldn’t keep going, the smile that he tried to force began to crumble under the weight of it all, cursing himself silently for failing to do this simple thing for his father. 

"I always—" 

Nuri tried again, voice cracking apart before the sentence could finish, his hands trembling where they hovered, useless, over Hamisi's shoulder, too afraid to press down anywhere near the wound. 

"I always ate well… you know how mad Zahara would get at me, sneaking extra bites." It came out broken, half a laugh and half a sob. "You'd just shrug at her. Every time."

Hamisi's mouth curved, faint, pleased despite everything. His hand lifted, slow and shaking, and found Nuri's wrist, weak but certain. “Worth it,” he coughed out, the words small now, fading at the edges, but unmistakable. “Every time.”

Nuri's breath caught on a sound that wasn't quite a word.

"Don't," he managed. "Don't you dare tell me that I was worth it right now."

Hamisi's eyes, still shaking, still fading, found his properly.

“You,” he spoke, slower now, each breath costing him something visible. “Were always. Worth it.” He weakly raised his fist, if you could even call it that. “Ngumi… z… zetu…”

His hand slipped from Nuri's wrist. Death taking him into his final rest before he could finish.

The debt was paid.

The funeral was prepared in just a week. Hamisi had what he wanted written down in his personal journal, the pages yellowed with age, some burnt through the many events it’s survived alongside him. 

The family was there, abandoning their current journeys, to come say their goodbyes. 

It was a sunny day.

Hamisi hated the rain, because he loved seeing Zahara.

He’d love to see his kids all together again like this, despite the somber moment, he’d tell them to keep their heads high, and to give those they see up at the top a “whole lotta hell.”

Nuri learned from his second eldest sibling, Amara, that Hamisi being able to speak in the end is likely due to the curse lifting as his death was right around the corner.

All Nuri could do was nod, and walk away. 

He didn’t know if it made him feel better knowing Hamisi was freed before his final moments, or worse now that he knew it might not’ve been Hamisi’s stubborn refusal to go silently. Despite his better judgement Nuri still chose to believe it was the latter, because that’s just who Hamisi was.

Zahara would give her speech first. 

She had been quiet throughout the entire visitation, only giving silent smiles and empty platitudes to those offering their condolences. 

Hamisi was her other half, two wings of the same bird, without him she wondered if there was even a point in trying to fly again. 

“I… am Zahara Usiku. You all already know my relation to Hamisi. He was a wonderful man, heart filled with kindness and hands ready to work and fight for what he loves… and that's exactly what he did till the very end.” 

Nuri sat at the front of the crowd, beside Zola, her eyes puffy from crying all week. 

"He always told me, back when we were young and had nothing but each other, that love wasn't the soft thing people made it out to be. He said it was work. Showing up. Choosing the same person again in the morning, even on the days it would've been easier not to." Her voice wavered, just slightly, before she steadied it again. "He chose me every single morning for thirty years. And then he chose all of you."

She looked out at the gathered family, her eyes finding each of them in turn, Hawa, Amara, Tumaini, Chidi, Imani, Zola, Nuri; the seven children they raised, her eyes lingering a beat longer on none of them and all of them at once.

"He used to say blood was only ever half the story of a family. The rest, he said, you had to build yourselves, brick by brick, choice by choice." 

Her hands, folded tight in front of her, trembled faintly. 

"He built this family with every one of you. Not because he had to. Because he wanted to. Because somewhere along the way, seven children who weren't his by blood became his in every way that mattered, and he never once let a single one of you forget it."

She paused, drawing a slow breath, steadying herself against whatever came next.

"I don't know how to fly with only one wing," she admitted, quiet now. 

The composed formality she wore finally cracking at its edges. "I don't think I'm meant to figure that out today. But I know he wouldn't want me standing up here grounded either. So I will learn. Slowly. Because that's what he'd want, and because that's the last thing I can still do for him."

Her eyes swept the crowd once more, settling, finally, distinctly, on Nuri.

"He loved you all so completely," she said, voice barely holding. "Please don't let his ending convince any of you that loving this fiercely isn't worth what it costs. He'd tell you himself, if he still could, that it always, always was."

Hawa was up next; she didn't approach the podium the way Zahara had. She simply stood from her seat, mountainous and steady, and let the crowd's attention find her rather than performing any transition into it.

"I was nineteen the first time Hamisi took a wound meant for me," she said, no preamble, voice level in a way that took visible effort to hold. "I've spent every year since trying to be worth what that cost him. I'm not certain I ever managed it."

She let that sit a moment, unflinching, before continuing.

"People who only knew him as quiet, gentle Hamisi never saw the version of him I owe my life to. He was dangerous, when it mattered. Disciplined. He chose silence in this house because he wanted peace, not because peace was the only thing he was capable of." Her jaw tightened. "I think some of you assumed his softness was the whole of him. It never was. It was simply the part he chose to give freely, once he no longer had to fight for a living."

Her gaze moved slowly over her siblings before settling, briefly, on Nuri.

"He asked me once, years ago, why I never told any of you the full truth of what he sacrificed getting this family off the ground. I told him it wasn't mine to tell. That the debt was between the two of us." Her voice finally cracked, just slightly, the first real fracture in her composure since she'd stood. "I think I was wrong. I think he deserved to have all of you know exactly what kind of man raised you, not just the gentle half he let you see every day."

She drew a slow breath, steadying herself.

"He told me, more than once, that a couple scars weren't new to him. That he made his choices with open eyes, and he'd make them again." Her voice hardened, resolve settling back into place. "So I refuse to stand here and tell you his death was some tragedy that simply happened to him. It wasn't. It was the same thing every choice he ever made was, deliberate, clear-eyed, and entirely his own." Her eyes swept the crowd one final time. "I intend to spend the rest of my life making sure that choice was worth what it cost him. All of us should."

She sat back down.

Nuri was left in his seat, nails digging into his palms, I have to go up there, he thought, muttering to himself “I… I have to… it’s my fault…” he began to spiral deeper, deeper into his guilt, his hunger. 

He thought to the foolishness he had been doing, all when he could’ve been helping Hamisi, he was thinking about eating, all when he could’ve been—

Zola gripped his hand. “Shut up…”

“Zola…” He looked up at her through his hair, and was met with a fist to the face.

“SHUT UP!” She grabbed his collar. “I’m sick and tired of you doing this…” tears fell from her face as she raised her fist. “Did you even know him… Huh?! You’re sitting here, talking about what you could’ve done… but what about what you’ll DO?? That’s what he’d…” her hands shook, her fist kept beating on Nuri’s chest as she sobbed. “That’s what he’d want you to talk about.”

Nuri was quiet, but as always… Zola pulled him back.

He didn't remember standing up. He only remembered his legs carrying him forward, past Zola's tear-streaked face, past Hawa's steady, watchful gaze, until he was standing at the podium with no idea what he was about to say.

He looked out at all of them. His family. Zahara, hollowed and dignified. Hawa, still holding herself like a wall against collapse. His siblings, every one of them carrying grief in a different shape.

"I keep thinking about what I could've done differently," he said finally, voice rough, unsteady. "I've been sitting here the whole service doing that. Replaying it. Wondering what would've changed if I'd been faster, stronger, if I'd never gone upstairs at all." He swallowed hard. "My sister just reminded me that's not what he'd want from me. She's right. She usually is, when she hits hard enough to actually get through to me."

A few pained, watery laughs moved through the crowd.

"So instead I'm going to tell you what I'm going to do." His voice steadied, something resolving behind his eyes. "I will find who did this… and I will reap the debt they owe me… the debt they owe US."

Murmurs moved through the gathered family, quiet, uncertain. He looked at Zahara. At Hawa. At Hamisi's casket, and closed his eyes. Blocking the sting of tears in his eyes.

"Hamisi spent his whole life protecting this family quietly, without asking for recognition, without making a single one of us feel like we owed him for it." Nuri's voice cracked, just once, before he forced it steady again. "I can't give him back. I know that. But I can make sure whoever took him from us understands exactly what it cost them to try. So let's keep our heads high, and give 'em hell."

He stepped back from the podium, breathing hard, the weight of the vow settling over the crowd like something final and irreversible.

Behind him, Hawa's expression had gone very still, watching her youngest brother with an unreadable mixture of grief, pride, and something that looked almost like fear for what he'd just promised.

Chapter 6

Another week passed back in the manor. Nuri sat in a room. The maid from the night before tied up, she reeked of confusion, fear, sorrow. “I-I didn’t know it was drugged! I swear I wasn’t even the person who made the tea!”

“It had to be something pretty strong to have Hawa sleeping through that night.” He stood and walked over to her, eyes boring into her. “You’re telling the truth… but I’m sure you know who did. After all, your entire job is to serve Hawa.” He leaned in closer, his voice keeping steady, a calmness and kindness within it that sent an unsettling shiver down her spine. “Why don’t we make a deal?” He reached out a hand, “Tell me who did, and you’ll live.” 

The woman looked at his hand, her heart began to throb, terrified. She glanced around the room, for any way out, for any escape except for shaking his hand. But with none she relented, extending her hand, when Hawa entered the room gripping his wrist. “Nuri. I told you I’d deal with the investigation, didn’t I? Your job is to get yourself ready for departure.”

Nuri gritted his teeth, but he exhaled, brushing his hair from his face. “You’re right.” He put on a smile, “Just trying to make things go a little faster.” He pushed past her and she followed him out, slamming the door behind her.

“This is rough on everybody, but you can’t go stepping out of line like that. You follow my lead, always. Hamisi’s passing doesn't change that.”

“I know… I just—”

“No excuses. I may be your sister but I’m also your boss, your job is to go and live. I can’t have you wasting away here… not like me.” Nuri looked at her hands. They were twitching. She hadn’t smoked today. She was anxious, and he was just making it worse.

He sighed, reminding himself of his own promise, and not wanting to stress her out any more with all that's gone on. “You’re right…” He took her hands. “But what you’re doing here isn’t meaningless, don’t forget what Hamisi fought for, and don’t forget that thing was you. Take a break Hawa.” She gripped his hands back. “I’ll be okay… I’ll follow your orders alright?” He said, putting that smile back on his face.

Hawa could only let out an exasperated chuckle. “You really are a little devil aren’t you?”

The smile curled into a more genuine grin. “Your very own.”

“Yeah well,” she stood tall, straightening her back. “Make sure you remember that alright? I don’t want you losing yourself to this.”

“Why does everyone think that’s gonna happen?”

“You’ve never been away from family for so long,” she patted his head. “We’re just worried about you.”

“I’ll be okay Hawa.”

At that she simply nodded. Freeing her hands from his she then pulled out a cigar and lit it, taking a long drag before exhaling through her nose. The air filled with the rich smell of cocoa, alongside the deep scents of cedar. “Okay, so your departure is in about an hour, correct?”

“Yes ma’am.” 

She took another drag before talking as she exhaled. “And you have everything packed?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Alright, so all that leaves are goodbyes… Zola… should probably be last.”

He remembered how she had been. She had been trying her best to continue onwards, to look forward, but over these weeks she had refused to talk about what happened nor about Nuri’s coming departure. So he simply nodded.

Zahara found him in the garden, sitting on the same bench where she used to make him sit still long enough to eat breakfast as a boy.

"So," she said, settling beside him, "you're really leaving within the hour."

"I am."

She was quiet a moment, studying his profile, the tightness still sitting in his jaw that hadn't fully eased since the funeral. "I heard your speech, you know. Every word of it."

"I figured you did."

"I'm not going to tell you not to seek out whoever did this." Her voice stayed gentle, but there was no softness in the honesty underneath it. "I know better than to ask that of you. I don't think I'd even want to, if I'm being truthful." She folded her hands in her lap. "But I need you to hear something else too, before you go."

He turned to look at her properly.

"Hamisi would never want revenge to be the whole of what you carry out that door today." She met his eyes, steady. "He'd want you laughing, Nuri. Making a mess of things the way you always have. Falling in love foolishly, more than once, and surviving the heartbreak each time a little wiser than before. He'd want you chasing every ridiculous dream you've ever had, not just the grim one you stood up and swore to at his funeral."

Nuri's throat tightened. "I can't promise you I won't chase both."

"I'm not asking you to choose." Her hand found his, warm, steady. "I'm only asking you to walk whichever road you take with your head held high and a smile still somewhere on your face. Don't let grief hollow out the boy I raised. Let it sharpen him instead, if it must. But don't let it be the only thing left standing once the rest of you is gone."

He nodded slowly, something in his chest loosening just slightly at the permission in it.

"Can I ask you something?" he said finally.

"Always."

"Do you ever worry you'll just be, I don't know, defined by this? By losing him?" He hesitated. "I only ask because I keep thinking about what I'll become if I let this vow be the only thing that matters to me."

Zahara considered that a long moment, something old and hard-won behind her eyes.

"Never forget," she said finally, quiet but certain, "you are more than the hole left by those you loved. You were a person before them, and you will continue to be one after. Never anything less." She squeezed his hand once, firm. "I was Zahara long before I was Hamisi's wife, Nuri. I intend to still be Zahara long after this grief has finished teaching me whatever it thinks I still need to learn. You'll do the same, whether you believe that yet or not."

She pulled him into a hug then, fierce and brief, before rising to her feet.

"Come on," she said, composure sliding back into place like armor. "I'm not letting my youngest two split apart without proper goodbyes. Go find your sister; go find Zola." 

Nuri nodded, shaking away tears. “Yes ma’am!” He said, standing up with a smile beaming on his face.

And so the last was Zola. She avoided him like the plague, turning sharp corners, going up stairs, starting conversations with random house workers to keep occupied, all until Nuri yelled down the hallway. “I just wanna go on a walk together!” She turned her head slightly, looking at him in the corner of her eye. “Please Zozo…”

She finally stopped running when he called out, shoulders dropping, some of the fight going out of her all at once. She didn't turn around fully, just enough to let him catch up.

"Fine," she muttered. "One walk."

They ended up on the old path through the village, the one they'd worn smooth as children sneaking off whenever chores got tedious. Zola kept her hands shoved deep in her pockets, eyes fixed somewhere just ahead of her feet.

"Remember when we used to race to the well," she said finally, not quite a question, "and you'd always trip on that same root right before the end?"

"Every single time."

"You never learned."

"I liked losing to you." He bumped her shoulder gently. "Made you insufferable for the rest of the day. Very entertaining."

That earned him the ghost of a smile, gone almost as fast as it appeared. She pointed out the baker's stall they used to steal bread scraps from, the tree Chidi once got stuck in for an entire afternoon, the exact spot where she'd talked Nuri into his first, and only, attempt at climbing the old bell tower before Hawa caught them both and nearly took a decade off her own life from the fright of it.

She talked about all of it. About everything except the manor, the funeral, the new whip folded in his bag, the hour ticking down behind them.

Nuri let her. He matched her pace, laughed where he was meant to laugh, filled in the parts of old memories she skipped over, and didn't once try to steer the conversation toward anything heavier than the two of them had been, once, a long time ago, before either of them understood what the world actually cost.

Their little journey reached its apex at the old sparring grounds. Weathered with age, covered in vandalism by the village children. It smelt of dust, and memories, memories of training under Tumaini, one of their elder siblings, training to fight, to kill, to protect. They hadn't been touched in years, weeds pushing up through the cracked stone, the old wooden dummies half-collapsed at the edges. It was here Nuri finally stopped walking, turning to face her properly for the first time since they'd left the manor.

"A bet," he said.

Zola raised an eyebrow, wary immediately. "What kind of bet?"

"We spar. If I win, by keeping you down for ten seconds, like it’d be when we were kids, you actually talk to me. Really talk, not the tour-guide routine you've been running for the past hour." He rolled his shoulders, settling into a loose stance. "And I'm allowed to leave for Shamba with a clear conscience."

"And if I win?"

"Then you keep whatever you're carrying to yourself, and I stay." He said it plainly, no hesitation in it. "I miss my departure. I don't go anywhere until you're ready to let me."

Zola's jaw tightened, something flickering behind her eyes, caught between fury at being cornered and something that looked almost like relief that he'd finally forced the issue instead of letting her keep running from it.

"That's not fair," she said, though she was already shifting her own stance, already answering the challenge with her body before her mouth fully agreed to it. "You know that I’ll win. I always do."

"Then come on." He held her gaze, steady. "Only ten seconds, should be easy. You've been beating me at everything since we were kids."

Something cracked in her expression, just slightly, grief and stubbornness tangled together.

"You're an idiot," she said, voice thick.

"Your idiot," he said, echoing the exchange he'd had with Hawa hours earlier, and something about hearing it a second time seemed to land harder for her, because her shoulders finally, visibly, dropped their guard.

"Fine," she said, raising her fists. "But when I win, you're not allowed to bring this up again. Ever."

"Deal."

She came at him first, fast and sloppy with unshed emotion, and Nuri met her there, matching her pace, letting the old, familiar rhythm of sparring with his sister carry them both somewhere neither of them had let themselves go in weeks. Zola hit harder than he braced for, faster too, years of Tumaini's training showing in every strike she threw. She fought dirty, elbows, feints, going for the joints instead of anything clean, and Nuri dodged, blocked, redirected, never once raising a hand to actually strike back.

That seemed to make it worse.

"Fight me!" she snarled, swinging again, wild now, less technique and more raw feeling behind it. "Stop dodging, stop blocking, just fight me for once!"

He caught her wrist instead, deflecting the momentum, and she stumbled over her own overextended foot, hitting the cracked stone hard enough to knock the breath from her.

She didn't get up right away.

"Why won't you hit me?" Her voice cracked, all the fury draining out of it into something rawer, uglier, more honest. "Why won't you just, just give me what I deserve?"

Nuri stood over her, breathing hard, confused. "What you deserve for what?"

"For failing!" She was crying now, ugly and unguarded, the walls she'd been holding up all week finally collapsing at once. "I was supposed to be there. I'm the one who's supposed to protect you, that's, that's always been my job since we were kids, and I was upstairs being sick over some poisoned bullshit while Hamisi—" Her voice broke entirely. "While Hamisi died protecting both of us, and I didn't even, I couldn't even—"

She curled forward, hands pressed hard against her own face.

"I keep thinking if I'd been stronger, if I hadn't been so weak that night, maybe I could've helped him. Maybe he'd still, maybe you wouldn't have had to—" She was shaking now, the words tumbling out faster than she could control them. "So hit me. Please. I don't know how to carry this if you won't at least… at least let me feel like I paid something for it too."

Nuri sat down beside her on the cracked stone, not bothering to help her up, just settling into the dirt at her level instead.

"You already did," he said quietly. "Pay something, I mean. Hamisi's death wasn't a debt only I owe, Zola. It's something all of us paid for. Something we're still paying for, every single day since." He looked at her, steady despite the ache in his own chest. "You don't get to sit here and tell me you didn't lose anything that night. I watched you sob so hard at his funeral you nearly lost your voice. That's not nothing. That's not you walking away clean."

"It's not the same," she said, muffled, still hiding behind her hands.

"Why not?"

"Because you were there. You fought. You—" her voice cracked again, "—you don't even remember all of what you did, but you did something. You were in it. I was upstairs throwing up bad beef while our father died two floors below me."

"You were poisoned, Zola. There was no way you could’ve prevented that… they were already in the house before we got back." He said it plainly, refusing to let her guilt sit unchallenged. "You didn't choose to be pinned to that bed. You didn't choose any of what happened that night, same as I didn't choose to black out and lose an hour of my own memory to something I still don't fully understand. Neither of us got a say in how that night went. We just got handed the aftermath." He rubbed his throat. For a moment, he could feel it again: the warmth of his own blood spilling between his fingers, the terrible realization that he was dying. He forced the memory down and refocused on Zola.

She finally lowered her hands, eyes red and swollen, staring at him like she desperately wanted to argue and couldn't quite find the footing to do it.

"I keep replaying it," she admitted, quieter now. "Over and over. What if I'd pushed through it. What if I'd forced myself downstairs anyway. What if, what if, what if."

"I do the same thing." He looked up, before he sighed. "Every night since. I don't have an answer for you that makes it stop. I wish I did."

They sat there a while in silence, the weeds swaying faintly around them, the old sparring grounds holding nothing but the two of them and everything they'd both been carrying alone instead of together.

"I've been avoiding you," she said eventually, voice small. "Not because I don't want to say goodbye. Because I didn't know how to say goodbye without also saying all of this. And I didn't want to be the reason you left with more weight on you than you already had."

"I'd rather carry the weight of knowing than the weight of wondering what you were hiding from me." He nudged her again. "You're my sister. The frost to my flame, remember? I don't want the sanitized version of you. I never have."

She let out a wet, unsteady laugh at that, wiping roughly at her face with her sleeve. "You're so annoyingly sincere. It's disgusting."

"You love it."

"I tolerate it." But she was smiling now, small and real, the first one he'd seen from her all week. "I don't know how to do this without you here, Nuri. You've been beside me my entire life. Every scheme, every disaster, every stupid dare. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with all this space where you used to be."

"You fill it," he said simply. "The way you always have. Loud, brash, completely uninterested in anyone else's opinion of you." He smiled. "You don't need me standing next to you to be exactly who you already are."

She studied him a long moment, something settling in her expression, grief and love and reluctant acceptance calming all at once.

"I'm still furious you're leaving," she said finally.

"I know."

"But." She exhaled slowly, the fight finally draining fully out of her. "I'd rather know all of what you're carrying than have you walk out that door with me still hiding from you. So. Talk to me. Properly. Before you go."

And so he did, everything he hadn't said yet, the fear underneath the vow, the guilt he hadn't let even Zahara see the full shape of, the ache of not remembering what his own hands had done that night, the strange, cold conversation he still couldn't fully piece together from the moments he'd lost. She listened to all of it, asked questions when she needed to, cried again more than once, and didn't once try to fix any of it, just stayed, present, exactly the way he'd needed her to be.

By the time they finally stood, the sun had reached its zenith.

Nuri glanced at her, smirking despite everything. "You know," he said, "you've technically been down for over ten seconds now."

Zola blinked, then looked down at herself, still sitting where she'd fallen. "...You're joking."

"I'm not. I win."

She let out a short, disbelieving huff of a laugh, shoving him hard enough that he nearly lost his footing. "Fine," she said, shaking her head, something lighter finally breaking through the exhaustion on her face. "Fine. You win."

They left the training grounds, the sun beginning to beat down upon their heads. She punched his arm. “That was for earlier.” and all Nuri could do was laugh, laugh as they made their journey back home, every step another step towards an unsure, but brighter future.

They had rushed back home. Nuri stopped short at the sight in front of him, all the house workers, and many of the villagers, all brought there by Hawa and Zahara to show their love and support. Zola stepped over to join them, Hawa passed Nuri's bag to her, and she threw it towards him. He caught it on reflex, barely even registering the action. The wind began to pick up, blowing flower petals and leaves in a display that made his heart swell, he felt him there, standing alongside them, Hamisi still laughing even now. With the sun behind him, its light falling over all those he's loved, and all he’s ever known, they yell out. “STAY TRUE, NURI USIKU!”

Nuri began to cry. “Thank you… thank you thank you thank you… I WILL!” He threw his fist up, hands shaking. 

They all followed suit, yelling those words he grew up hearing, the words that pushed him forward; that kept him fighting even through all of the pain in his life. The words of his family, the language of his people. “NGUMI ZETU NI ZA WAFALME!” Our fists are that of kings.

Nuri slung his bag upon his back, stood tall, and walked away, hearing cries and cheers behind him. People who love him, who care for him. He walked with pride, into a world he had yet to see before.

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