Chapter 17 - A New Path
The battlefield was behind them, but the true challenge had only just begun.
Lusweti and his warriors wasted no time. The former slaves were given clear instructions—gather everything of value. Weapons, food, armor, even animals. Anything that could be used for survival. They moved quickly, stripping the slavers' camp of its spoils before setting off on the long march to the Angwenyi village.
They walked slowly, the freed captives burdened by exhaustion, yet carried forward by something stronger than their tired limbs—hope.
When they reached the village, emotions surged like a flood.
Angwenyi villagers rushed forward, searching desperately for familiar faces. And when they found them, the earth trembled with cries of joy, laughter, and heartbreak. Mothers fell to their knees, clutching grown sons who had been stolen from them. Children, once thought lost forever, were held so tightly they could hardly breathe. Warriors who had fought for their loved ones were embraced with gratitude.
Not everyone returned. Some families were left holding onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, their kin were still alive somewhere.
That night, a great fire was lit.
A celebration was held—not for victory, but for deliverance. Offerings were made to the spirits, ancestors were thanked, and for the first time in a long time, the people sang songs of survival instead of mourning.
Yet even as the village rejoiced, another battle was brewing.
Khisa sat alone, a short distance from the fire, staring into the flames. His body was present, but his mind was elsewhere.
The sounds of celebration around him faded as a memory from his past life surfaced.