Chapter 67 - The Weight We Carry
While King Lusweti was making moves back in Nuri, Khisa and the Shadow Guard were still travelling and training.
During their journey, they encountered several remote villages. Some welcomed them as guests with cautious kindness, offering roasted yams and fermented milk; others met them with stone-cold stares, hands gripping spears, eyes brimming with suspicion. Regardless of the reception, they never stopped speaking of Nuri.
They had spent years away from home. Seasons passed with no familiar laughter, no smell of simmering stews from their mothers’ kitchens, no festivals under the night sky. Many were homesick, but none dared say it aloud—at least, not until now. Despite the ache in their bones and the weight on their spirits, the thought of abandoning their mission hadn’t yet fully crossed their minds.
Khisa’s words echoed in their memories like firelight flickering in the dark. His determination to forge them into warriors unrivaled by any living soul was what pushed them forward. It reminded them of purpose. Of why they were still breathing.
Nuri was depending on them. They had to be strong.
One night, under a sky heavy with stars and silence, they rested by a small fire. The flames hissed and popped as dew settled on nearby leaves. Shadows danced across their tired faces. Khisa had left them to scout ahead, part of a routine they’d come to expect. They had to be prepared for anything. In these wild lands, silence could be a warning. Bandits didn’t send invitations.
Tiriki sat slightly apart from the group, knees pulled up, arms crossed tightly across his scarred forearms. The burn of new cuts from survival drills still throbbed under the wrappings. He stared into the fire, its glow reflecting the turbulence in his eyes.
"We’ve been on the road for years," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "Doing nothing but train. When will we go back home?"
The words hit the others like a cold gust. Tiriki’s jaw tightened, and he slammed his fist into the hard earth. "For all we know, Prince Khisa is leading us to our deaths."
The crack of his voice, sharp and bitter, cut through the stillness.
The other Shadows turned to him, disbelief washing over their faces. Ndengu’s eyes narrowed. His tall frame moved with purpose as he stood and marched toward Tiriki, his shadow falling over him.