Book One:

The origin of Amara

The world of Amara

Written and created by Alexander Keller

Book one:

The origin of Amara

Part 1: The Origin

Synopsis

The African legend of Amara Zendara has been recounted in various forms.
Was she a spirit or a human?

What we do know is that by defeating Raiten, she fulfilled the prophecy, broke the curse, and restored the Auralite Crystal to its rightful place. This is an epic tale that follows a royal family, their bloodline, and the challenges they faced through generations.
But to truly understand the story, we must start at the beginning…

Facts

These actual locations and legendary adventures were inspired by African mythology. The ancient spiritual land of the mountains of the moon, and the valley of the kings are the basis for this epic tale. The mountains of the moon for generations were thought to be the source of the Nile River. Many explorers set out on a quest to prove this fact. This story resembles the locations of this original landscape, mystical values and history which is known
today as the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

Cast of Characters

1. Spirit King: Jordan the creator.

2. Spirit Goddess Irimith: The creator of the animal Kingdom. The Aurilite crystal, and the light of Irimith.

3. The sisters of Illusion: Esther and Lorraine. The gardeners of the Earth. (Antagonist)

4. Raiten: (Protagonist) The leader of the Western regent of Monus in valley of the Kings (The desert lands)

5. Kendra: The leader of the East regent of Nuramba in the Valley of the Kings.

6. The five prophets: Asha, Rufus the large, Deandra, Centra, Sherman the wise. They had sworn an oath to protect the Auralite crystal.

7. Himrith, The Handsome: The strange little man who was once a prophet.

8. Barbearus: Master of the Guard, counselor of war. Raiten’s right hand

9. Jabari: Warlord king of the West,

From the house of Monus. The father of Raiten and Kendra.

10. Ziri: Princess of the cherished daughter of the king of the house of Nuramba. The mother of Raiten and Kendra.

11. Egtomus: Warrior Guardian of Raiten. Master of the ax, and Brother of Mrutus.

12. Mrutus: Warrior guardian of Raiten Master of the throwing knives, younger brother of Egomus

13. Rebellion: Noble Steed of Raiten. (Raiten’s beloved Ebony horse, her only true friend).

14. Justice: Kendra’s Noble Steed. (Proud white spotted, stallion)

15. The three Horatio’s (gnomes) (Raiten’s underlings. Her entourage of disciples.)

The Country of Nuramba, in the continent of Africa.

The Auralite crystal. (The Quantum Stone)

2. The Golden Masks of the Prophets

3. The Enchanted Spear of Raiten

4. The Light of Irimith

5. The law, the way of crystal.

6. The sign, a circle, and a line.

7. The Mountains of the Moon (North).

8. The Valley of the Kings of the (East) (Zendara’s Kingdom).

9. Desert Lands of the (West).

10. The Plateau, (Highlands of the Mountain of the Moon) (Other names location is referred to throughout the story: The playground for the gods and the lost ruins)

11. Mountain of the Dead (The snowy, cold elevation Northeast)

12. The Caves of Illusion.

13. The Tablet of dreams

14. Spirit in a bottle.

15. The Waters of Truth.

16. The Battlefield.

17. The Palace.

18. The enchanted waterways.

19. Porttown City (south).

20. The domed temple.

Character Backstory

The Spirit King Jordan

The Spirit King Jordan is a high-ranking spiritual being tasked by the one true God with the creation of humankind. He serves as a companion to the Goddess Irimith. After bringing humans into existence, the Spirit King summoned two sisters, Esther and Lorraine, to become his trusted disciples in overseeing the Earth’s garden.

The Goddess Irimith

The Goddess Irimith has been chosen by the one true God to maintain balance in the life cycles of all earthly beings. As the companion of the Spirit King, she forges the enchanted Auralite crystal. This crystal possesses quantum abilities to travel through time and space, which she sends to Earth to establish laws and scriptures for humankind to follow for generations.

The Sisters of Illusion:

(The Antagonists)

Known as the Sisters of Illusion, Esther and Lorraine are celebrated universal gardeners in the spirit realm. They are responsible for planting seeds across various quantum timelines and dimensions. Selected by the Spirit King to nurture humankind and the Earth, the sisters became increasingly obsessed with their creations and began to pursue their own agendas.

Description of the Sisters

Esther:

Esther is a short, full-bodied woman who resembles a friendly aunt. She wears colorful clothing and an apron while tending to her garden and completing chores. Esther is perpetually smiling and happy in her work unless provoked.

Lorraine:

Lorraine, taller and thinner in stature, is often moody and prefers not to work. However, she completes her tasks while complaining and being suspicious of everyone and everything. Always prepared to capture a soul and a memory, she snatches them to place in a bottle or buries them to fertilize her garden, showing no mercy.

The Creature

Before Esther and Lorraine absorb a victim’s soul and memories, they transform into a hideous creature. They shapeshift into a single, grotesque being with two heads, two arms, one body, and one tail, driven by a ravenous thirst for their victim.

Queen Raiten: Leader of the West (Zendara’s Ancestor)

She rules the western quarter. She is the granddaughter of the King of the East on her mother’s side and the daughter of a fierce warlord from the West. A broken deal made by prophets, which was meant to bring peace, only created further chaos. Queen Raiten, identical twin to Kendra, was stolen at birth and raised by her father, a godless man who prioritized violence and vengeance. Yearning for love and affection, Raiten learned that to gain her father’s acknowledgment, she needed to master the art of war. This led her to grow cold and vengeful, as her desire for revenge clouded her judgment and hindered her emotional mastery. The only being she considers family and truly loves is her horse, Rebellion.

Description after Transformation:

Transformed into a creature of mist along with her horse, Rebellion, Queen Raiten leaves a swirling trail of ethereal particles with every step she takes. Though she retains the enchanting beauty of her twin sister, a demonic essence now radiates from within her. Fierce and determined, she is bound by a cruel fate: her soul and memories are locked away in a bottle, held captive by the sisters. Compelled to do their bidding, she gathers victims for their dark purposes. Yet, deep within, she harbors a burning desire for the Auralite crystal, hoping to trade it for her freedom and reclaim her lost soul and memories. She dwells underground below the Mountain of the Moon, waiting for victims to arrive on the surface. When a victim appears, she is alerted and comes out with a fierce agenda, showing no mercy.

Queen Kendra: Leader of the East (Zendara’s Ancestor)

She shares the same royal bloodline and is the identical twin sister of Raiten. Raised with love and kindness while adhering to the laws established by the Auralite crystal, she is deeply faithful and respected by the people of the East. Kendra has invested in initiatives to help humankind thrive by promoting free trade and organizing tribes into skilled set, thereby creating a functional society for all. She has always sensed her twin sister’s presence and pain, longing for the day they would reunite. Kendra believes that Raiten has been led astray. Kendra also has a loyal steed and companion named Justice.

Prophets

Denandra:

Characteristics: Gifted with extraordinary athletic ability; a master of combat and weaponry, known for lightning speed and precision.

Description before gifted: Denandra is studying to become one of the King’s personal guards. She’s short, feisty, and fiercely determined, always ready to fight at a moment’s notice. Her impatience and aggression often stem from her insecurity about her height. She wears a leather suede combat outfit and carries a fighting stick, with a leather strap and beads tied around her forehead.

Rufus the Large:

Characteristics: Gifted with the ability to create natural phenomena such as earthquakes and vibrations, thanks to his large hands and brute strength.

Description before gifted: Rufus is a shy, broad-shouldered blacksmith of immense stature, with oversized hands. He often wears a cap, has a scruffy beard, and sports an eye patch. He’s quiet and reserved, typically responding with just a few words.

Sherman Wise: (Sherman the Shaman)

Characteristics: A wizard with eternal life and the ability of prophecy, able to bridge the spiritual and living worlds. He can glimpse the future, though he cannot predict its outcomes. He is the writer of the Scriptures and the Way of the Crystal. He will live through the centuries, waiting for Amara Zendara to be born to guide her and advise her to fulfill her destiny.

Description before gifted: Sherman is a young, mysterious scholar who copies ancient texts. He wears a cape and hood that covers him from head to toe and is adorned with jewelry—earrings, necklaces, rings, and bracelets. He walks with a limp, adding to his enigmatic presence.

Asha:

Characteristics: Gifted with the ability to communicate with the animal kingdom at any distance.

Description before gifted: Asha is a compassionate, sensitive woman who is deeply attuned to animals and people. She wears glasses and traditional, colorful African clothing, complete with a headdress, and is always nurturing and concerned for the well-being of all living things.

Centra:

Characteristics: Gifted with the ability to manipulate the wind, creating wind balls or powerful gusts.

Description before gifted: Centra is a tall, perfectly groomed hairdresser and braider, known for her radiant beauty. She’s often oblivious to her own attractiveness and is sensitive and focused on her appearance.

Himrith the Handsome: (Comic Relief)

Characteristics: His name fits him well; his good looks cannot be ignored. But that may be his only attribute. He is a well-dressed self-absorbed narcissist obsessed. Once a well known active actor and Singer of the stage he’s has now been gifted with a unique talent for breeding animals by combining different species to create new ones. He is quite lazy and does not fulfill his quarter. His obsession with Centra ultimately led to his downfall as a prophet . Now, he executes the orders of the Sisters of Illusion. Due to a deal that went awry, he has been transformed into a hideous little man, exiled to the Mountain of the Dead. There, he is tasked with sending souls and memories to the sisters for the fertilization of their garden.

Description before gifted: A young actor and singer by trade, who is full of himself.Sharply dressed, well groomed with Elvis looking hair, wearing a bull fighter matador’s outfit in white with a gold stripe down the side of his white pants. His most obvious characteristic is that he is wearing golden shoes with loops on the tips, that is his pride and joy.

Rebellion:

Raitens noble steed. Lost from her herd. The Young stallion was hungry and lost for weeks alone in the desert when she stumbled across a young warrior named Raiten. The two would bond and forever be tied together.

Justice:

Noble thoroughbred horse that was given to Kendra on her 16th Birthday by her grandfather. Justice was trained to protect and defend Kendra with her life . She is Righteous and reliable always when Kendra needs her. An intuitive beast of regency.

The Three Horatio’s: (comic relief)

Gnomes that were created by the witches of the illusion to assist Raiten as she absorbed souls and memories from the innocent will get trapped in the mist. Their mindless, heartless, soulless beings. With the ability to shapeshift into small animals like a goat or a deer or even a small mouse. They do this to lower their prey into the mist so that Raiten can do the sister’s bidding. The mist is the source of their power, they may go outside the mist they cannot go too far for their powers will be destroyed.

Description: ugly little demon, creatures with long noses and long fingers.

Descriptions: Featured items, Signs, and Territories

The Country of Nuramba

The main territory of Amara‘s world

1. The Auralite Crystal. (The Quantum Stone)

The Auralite crystal is composed of a mixture of 23 rare minerals. Goddess Irimith combined the crystal with a quantum stone to transcend time and space through the source of wisdom and knowledge.

2. The Enchanted Spear of Raiten,

As part of Raiten’s combat training, she was required to create her own weapon. At the age of ten years old, she forged a spearhead from a raw iron ore and connected it to a piece of African blackwood. The spear becomes Raiten’s weapon of choice, eventually becoming enchanted.

4. The Light of Irimith

The Auralite crystal radiates a dazzling spectrum of light, illuminating the minds of prophets and guiding them as they inscribe the scriptures. Through its vibrant energy, they share timeless wisdom and laws with future generations, fostering harmony and balance in the world.

5. The Law, The Way of the Crystal

A phrase used to describe the written words of the scripture, symbolizes universal truth and its laws of civilizing humankind. If you are a follower of the way of the Crystal, you follow the scriptures and its way of life.

6. The Sign, Circle, and Line.

A visual symbol Recognized from a celestial event, the Light of Irimiths’ intersecting with the full moon. This crest of arms will be revered through the generations as the way of the crystal. It could be written in the sand or painted on a flag. It is sold in the marketplace as a sign of good luck and fortune. We also see the opposing sides symbol, which bears a line across the circle that defies the gods and the way of the crystal.

7. Kingdom City Province:

The Capital City of the Valley of the Kings will branch off into multiple provinces with the capital being Kingdom City.

8. The Valley of the Kings (Zendaras Kingdom).

This region begins at the base of the mountain of the moon and stretches way out to the port city. The valley of the kings is a central piece of land where the story takes place.

9. The Mountains of the Moon.

Mystical mountains are known to be the legendary origin of the Kinshasa river. Overlook the valley of the kings. This is the location of the domed temple of the Gods which holds the ancient scrolls.

10. Desert Lands of the west

Open prairies of the dry lands of Africa. The deserts of the west and Raiten’s region.

11. The playground of the gods. (Plateau)

Highlands of the Mountain of the Moon. The location of the domed temple.

12. Mountain of the Dead (The snowy, cold elevation)

At the furthest points of North Africa way above the mountains of the moons, an arctic wasteland of frosty terrain known as the Mountain of the Dead exists. Many travel there never to return. This is where the sisters of illusion live and dwell comfortably within the mountains’ core.

13.The Caves of the Lost

The bodies and remains of each lost soul which have fallen victim to the witch’s tricks lie here. This is a passageway to the core of the mountain of the dead, a passage not many come back from.

14. The Tablet of dreams

It is a talisman that can predict your future, if you have one. It is a stone tablet with mystical powers.

15. Spirits in a bottle

The sisters capture the human essence of specific people they deem useful and or important to their cause. They hold the souls in bottles as payment.

16. The Waters of Truth

This mystical waterway is located on the ceiling of the witches dwelling and acts as a truth revealer. With a drop of blood from a captive, their truths can be exposed. The waterway also nurtures and provides moisture to the witches’ gardens which is used as a portal to a limited view of the outside world and other times in space.

17. The Battlefield.

The battlefield is located west of Kingdom City. The final confrontation between Raiten and Kendra happens here.

18. The House of Monus,

The open dry plains of the west, Inside of the valley of the Kings. The homeland of the warlord queen Raiten and her father Jaheim.

19. The House of Nuramba.

The fertile land of the east next to the Kinshasa river of life in the valley of the Kings. The homeland of queen Kendra and her family the recognized true bloodline of kings running back for generations.

Part one: The Origin

Zody and Amari.

Intro

It was a winter’s night as our tale begins; we find ourselves dropping from the cloud filled sky parting the way for a bird’s eye view of a suburban house in a rural neighborhood.

The surrounding houses are evenly spaced out, with snow-covered roofs

and driveways adding to the serene winter atmosphere. As the view slows down, it focuses on a snow-bordered window, providing a glimpse of the warm and cozy living room inside.

It is December 26, the first day of Kwanzaa, as an empty wooden kinara sits on a fireplace mantle, and a beautifully decorated Christmas tree stands tall in the center of the room fully lit. Radiating a sense of comfort and joy. The room is adorned with a collection of African art and sculptures, which are proudly displayed. All of which have been either sent or brought over by Uncle Sherman during his visits from Africa over the years, adding a touch of cultural richness and heritage to the room’s decor. Sherman Wise is currently visiting from Africa to catch up with his family, including his niece Zody, whom he hasn’t seen since she was three years old. She had now become a ripe old age of nine who is interested in everything. Uncle Sherman is seated in an oversized cushioned armchair by the fireplace, with many wrapped gifts that he has now brought with him from Africa. The wise family thought it would be OK if Amari, the son of their neighbors who they were very close friends with, stayed over for the night. They also couldn’t find a babysitter as they were all going to the same event. Sherman came to visit at the opportune time, and he didn’t mind babysitting at all. He loved children and he felt they were all our future. But he had especially come to see his niece Zody. Amari and Zody are wearing their Christmas themed pajamas and are sprawled and cross-legged positions on top of the rug across from the fireplace, Zody’s cat Minty who was gray cat laid next to her sleeping, as Zody was in deep concentration Scribbling away with crayons in various colors, she was creating her newest masterpiece. Amari, studying a book, was 10 years old, and very interested in science. He wore glasses and was always reading something. Zody on the other hand, was always ready to wrestle and searched for adventure and mystery in everything she could imagine. Mom and Dad (Alex Wise, and his wife Taira), were getting dressed in their bedroom as they were rushing to leave for a holiday party. Dad was an acclaimed architect and needed to show his face at these social events. His colleagues were all there and they looked forward to seeing him and his lovely wife. He might even be asked to say a couple of words.

“Honey, have you seen my keys?” Taira, a little frustrated, says, “don’t tell me you lost them again”. She haphazardly leaves the bedroom and walks into the kitchen and yells back. “They’re not on the kitchen wall hook, where they are supposed to be”. Mom is a petite, beautifully radiant middle-aged woman with curly brown hair and deep brown eyes. Her large afro bounces as she moves quickly across the room. Mom is a lawyer, and her husband and her have been discussing the possibility of her running for public office. She is well known in the community, and her peers believe she would be a breath of fresh air in these difficult times. As Mom passes by the children in the living room, she pauses and bends down to acknowledge Zody’s latest piece of art. “It’s beautiful! It’s so full of color, but what exactly is it?” Zody replied it’s a crystal star, like the one that daddy gave you when you got married. Taira immediately had a confused look on her face, “Yes, I could see the resemblance, but what does the line through the moon mean? Zody kept on drawing, I don’t know, it just feels right. It’s very interesting, I can’t wait to see what it looks like when you’re done”, she exclaimed before returning to her search. Zody responded with a full-grinned smile as she continued scribbling away. Taira was becoming frustrated. She could not find the keys after looking everywhere. Sherman, overhearing their conversation about the lost keys, watched Taira as she searched around. Sherman waved his hand over the top of the small table next to him with the poinsettia. A magical sparkle filled the air. Taira turned as a slight twinkle of light caught the corner of her eye. She walked over to the table and there were the keys. She thought that it was strange they weren’t there a minute ago. She considered herself a very observant person and knows that she looked in that very spot. “She looked at the keys. They were definitely Alex’s, attached to the keys was the 50th anniversary keychain of their visit to Disney World. She stood up and looked at Sherman oddly, whose attention was fixed on the children. She yelled out to her husband, “I found them. They are right where you left them, then she spoke to herself in a low tone, at least I think so?”

Mom had her reservations about Sherman’s visit; she had not seen him in many years, but he continued to send packages with African masks and artifacts several times a year; he seemed a little odd and had many old-fashioned ways that she didn’t agree with. Mom grabbed the keys and went back into the bedroom to finish her final touches on her outfit and placed the keys on the bathroom counter in front of Alex.

Dad responds as he continues to adjust his tie in the bathroom mirror. “Thanks, I thought I lost them, that’s a relief. Where did you find them?” “They were on the table next to the poinsettias. Alex responded, “Mmmm, I don’t remember leaving them there. But I guess I must have”. Taira with an unsure response, “yes, you must have”. Dad is a medium height, handsome man with a shaded goatee.

His hair is kept short with sprinkles of gray, bringing out the intensity of his deep green eyes. Taira asked, “Did you see what Zody was drawing”? Lance reached for his jacket on the hook and took it off the hanger, “no I didn’t”. “She is making a drawing of the Auralite crystal you gave me on our wedding day. I decided to wear it tonight”. Alex replied while slipping on his jacket,” it means a lot to me.” Taira responded as she has heard this before, “I know, it’s a family heirloom given to you by your mom…. Alex looked in the mirror on the closet door and said, Yes, and one day we will give it to Zody, she fancies it. So, what’s the big deal?”

Taira got up from her chair in front of her make-up table and looked at Alex adjusting his tie. “I haven’t taken it out of the jewelry box for a long time, matter of fact, I haven’t worn it since she was born”. She turns around and faces the mirror, handing Alex the necklace as he straps it around her neck. Alex said, “What’s the occasion? Is there something you’re not telling me? Maybe we’re having another little one?” Taira responded, “no silly!! She cutely turned her head sideways and looked in the mirror at the Crystal. It sparkles against the light. “I’m not sure, it just sort of feels right, and it matches my outfit.

Are you sure Sherman is your real uncle”? Alex responded quickly, “of course, I’ve known him since I was a kid. He would always be at family events. Taira asked, “what does he do”? “I think he used to own a tinker store and now a bookstore. I remember my father telling me that he would give some sort of spiritual advice. Nevertheless, he comes from my father’s side of the family”. Taira shook her head sarcastically,” Well, that’s the weird side’. Alex requested, “can we please discuss this later, and can you stop being a lawyer, just for tonight”.

Alex and Taira scurried around the foyer, grabbing their coats as they moved in opposite directions. Crossing their paths they were trying to quickly gather their things before departing. Mom finally situated, and said I’ll be right back. I’m just going to go check the back door to make sure it’s locked. Alex said, “Didn’t you check the back door already?” Well, it’s better to be safe. Taira had a thing about making sure that all the doors were locked before she went anywhere, it made her feel safe and secure.

Dad slows down and walks into the living room. “Uncle Sherman, are you sure you’ll be okay watching the kids and putting them to sleep tonight”?

Sherman, who was lost in thought reaching in his bag, was slightly startled when he heard his nephew’s voice. “No, no, of course. Go have a good time! The children and I have a lot to talk about. Sherman stood up with candles in his hand that he got from his bag and placed them into the kinara. Three red candles, three green candles, and one black candle in the center. Sherman said, “Today is the first day of Kwanzaa, and we must light the black candle of unity before you leave as a family.

Sherman reached for a long wooden stick that they used to help start the fireplace. He stuck the end into the fire as it caught in a blaze quickly. “Can we please all get together in a moment of silence to light the black candle of Umoja, unity”. Sherman had replaced the modern electric Kinara with this old wooden one. This antique wooden kinara had a special meeting. He had brought it directly from Africa, and he intended to give it to the family. Zody pauses her drawing for a moment and looks up at her father with her big green eyes. She was so beautiful he didn’t have words, and he could feel the power of her love going right through him. Alex requested for the two children to stand up out of respect. Sherman said, “we should never forget our traditions, and where we come from even in a modern world, these core values have their place”.

Mom walks out of the kitchen and into the hallway, her eyes briefly darted to the mirror that reflected the image of the grandfather clock in the foyer. “Okay honey, are you ready to go? We’ll be late if we don’t leave in the next two minutes”.

She stops in front of the living room and sees the entire family standing in front of the fireplace including Minty Zody’s cat. Zody rescued Minty when she was just a kitten from inside of an old warehouse and they immediately created an unbreakable bond. Minty was always by Zody’s side, and like Zody she was always ready for new adventures. Sherman was holding a long stick with the flame burning at the end ready to get started. Taira, visibly upset, “What are you guys doing? We have to leave”. The father replies, Sherman thought it would be nice to light the black candle as a family. Mom looked slightly confused, how can we do that? “It’s a bulb, battery operated”. The father squinted his eyes and slightly gulped and said, “Uncle Sherman, replaced it with this wooden one that he brought from home. It’s a gift”, Alex could read his wife’s facial expression and knew she didn’t want another gift especially from Sherman. “He felt it would be more traditional, if you don’t mind honey”. Mom had a slight face of anguish, she thought to herself, didn’t want to disagree in front of the children as they seemed anxious to light the candle, and replied “OK”. Sherman took the stick and put it in Zody’s hand and told her to reach up and light the black candle. The candle ignited, and she felt like she participated in something that was important. This is the first candle we lit for Kwanzaa called Umoja. It means unity, may these blessings carry us through the hard times as a people. Amari yelled out, “I want a light one too”. Uncle Sherman replied, “tomorrow night Amari you will light the first red candle, which represents Kujichagulia, determination”. The red candles represent our struggles and the green candles our future. Amari said, “I like these traditions. I’m going to show my mom and dad how to celebrate Kwanzaa when I get home, if I can get them to pay attention. Lately all they talk about is the Earth and how it’s been shifting. Something is going on between the north and the south poles. Lance looked up at his wife Taira with concern. Taira said, Amari, “we shouldn’t talk about things like that. We don’t know if any of it is true. It’s just a theory”. Amari looked down at his feet, “I guess so”. How could she be upset at Sherman? These were the traditions of their past and their possible future, and especially now, these were scary times. We needed as much faith as we could get. This made her remember back to her mother and father, and how she would light the first candle of the Kinara on the day of Kwanzaa. In some way she looked at Sherman differently, he may have been annoying. But maybe, especially now, it was for a good reason.

Sherman said, as he put out the flaming stick, the future is the reflection of the past,we must understand the past before we can recognize our future.

Zody ran to her mother as she kneeled and hugged her. “Goodbye sweetie, be good for Uncle Sherman,” who was still standing in front of the fireplace. Dad gave his child a quick hug and kiss before turning to Sherman.

“Thanks for watching over them again”.

Mom gave Sherman a grateful smile as the crystal necklace round Taira‘s neck started to sparkle.

Sherman said that’s a beautiful Auralite crystal necklace that you have. Taira asked, from that distance how could you possibly know it’s Auralite, there are hundreds of different crystals that look similar to this one why choose Auralite? Sherman coughed and sat back in his chair, “it was just a guess”.

Alex waved goodbye and scurried a reluctant Taira out the door. Leaving Sherman and the children alone in the house. As soon as the parents leave, Uncle Sherman takes out a bunch of gifts and places them on the floor in front of him.

The children are very excited; these gifts are for the both of you. Amari put down his book and adjusted his glasses. “But logically speaking, how could you have known that I was going to be here? In conclusion, how could you have gotten me a gift that would interest me?” Sherman replied, that’s easy, I’ll just use a little magic. Sherman spun his hand and magically a Rubik’s cube and a little Red Ball appeared in it. Zody and Amari were amazed as he handed the cube to Amari. Amari said, “theoretically that’s impossible, but it was a good trick.” as Amari examined the Rubik’s cube. Zody asked “but who’s the Red ball for”. Sherman gestures to Minty rolling on the floor. Amari and Zody couldn’t believe their eyes. The red ball had disappeared from his hand,and was now on the floor where Minty was feverishly playing with it. Sherman clapped his hands and rubbed them together, and said, “before we go any further. I would like to tell you a story. Zody asked anxiously, what’s it about? Sherman leaned forward as the kids leaned towards him. In practically a whisper, “It’s about spirits and ghosts and battles and heroes. Nothing too interesting, and did I fail to mention mysteries and suspense? Zody asked, “are there animals”? Sherman replied, looking at both “have you ever seen a live cheetah?” Zody and Amari shook their heads no. “Imagine having a pet like a Minty the size of a cheetah, and being able to communicate with the entire animal kingdom”. Zody jumped up, “yes, I’m interested, I want to know more, tell us please”. Amari said, “well, ok as long as there’s battles and heroes, and a little mystery doesn’t hurt”. Sherman sat up in his chair, “ok then let’s get to it. Picture in your mind the enchanted rainforest jungles of Africa. There once was a young princess, who would be Queen. This is her adventures with her Cheetah companion Momina, her close friend Adama and her white desert fox who always seems to be getting in some sort of trouble, named Sessil.

She saved her people and changed the world we live in today. She was your great-great-great-grandmother, and this is her story. Her name was Amara Zendara.

But first, we must start from the beginning.” Sherman reached into his bag and pulled out one of three old books from the inside pouch, placing it on his lap.

“Come, children, sit next to me,” Sherman said, “so you can see the pictures.” The children eagerly jumped up into his chair, settling comfortably on the arm cushions. “There are three books about Amara’s life, and this is the first one. It’s called *The Origin of Amara Zendara*.”

Sherman began to flip through the pages, and as he waved his hands, a bright flash filled the children’s eyes. When their vision returned to focus, their thoughts intertwined with Sherman’s words, and they found themselves transported to ancient Africa,
surrounded by the vivid realism of Sherman’s story as he began to read.

Chapter 1

The Creation

Long before our planet was born, two celestial beings…Spirit God Jordyn and Goddess Irimith…combined their powers to shape the very fabric of existence on the third planet from the sun, which they called Earth. With a wave of their hands, the dry land separated, dividing the world into continents. Their divine gaze first settled upon the sprawling landmass that would come to be known as Africa…a realm rich in life-sustaining resources and diverse climates. Irimith, with her boundless creativity, breathed life into the animal kingdom, while Jordyn, the architect of humankind, endowed his creations with the precious gift of free will, crafting them as guardians of nature. Through the harmony of free will and instinct, the world was brought into balance, nurturing all forms of life.

Chapter 2

A Sisters brew

Jordyn chose two of his disciples to be the gardeners of the Earth: the sisters Esther and Lorraine. Their noble mission was to sow seeds that would blossom into majestic forests, carve rivers for life-giving irrigation, and populate the waters with a diverse array of creatures.

Jordyn had created humanity as herbivores to live off the land that the sisters nurtured. However, over the centuries, darkness began to brew in the hearts of the sisters. Fueled by contempt for Jordyn’s creation, they came to view mankind as a plague. With every new village and each plow turning the soil, they feared that humanity would eventually clear the entire Earth of everything they had created, spreading across the land until only what man had planted and nurtured, remained. This would render the sisters obsolete.

In their desperation, the sisters delved into cosmic sorcery combined with dark magic. Finally conjured an unbreakable spell that would transform humanity from herbivores into ravenous omnivores. Making humankind more violent and aggressive. Their vile scheme aimed to unleash chaos and orchestrate humanity’s eventual downfall.

When Jordyn and Irimith unearthed their sinister plot, the defiant sisters refused to lift the binding spell. A spiritual battle between titans erupted. The sisters used all their powers to outwit Jordyn and Irimith. But with the righteousness of truth on their side it finally culminated in the sisters’ ultimate defeat. Jordan could not bestow final judgment, so with no other option he banished the fallen disciples to a dark earthly realm deep within the Mountain of the Dead. He proclaimed that they would determine their fate by their own actions, and only someone pure of heart and royal blood could liberate them from imprisonment or destroy them for all time.

Despite their defeat, the self-proclaimed Sisters of Illusion laughed at Jordyn, confident that the seeds they had sown would take root in humanity’s heart. They foresaw that humanity’s insatiable thirst for war and desire to possess what belonged to their brothers would ultimately lead to its demise and total destruction. The sisters vowed to watch from the shadows, promising that one day, they would rise again.

Chapter 3

The Light of Irimith

As the ages passed, humanity’s primal instinct to hunt evolved into something darker—an aggressive thirst for dominance that spiraled into chaos and violence. The sisters were delighted, as the seed they had planted had taken root. Humanity’s evolution displayed a troubling inclination toward brutality and war.

Irimith observed with a heavy heart as humanity’s journey into conflict overshadowed the harmony and balance she and Jordyn had worked tirelessly to cultivate. Now, on a path leading to destruction, Mother Earth held her breath, placing her hopes in the unpredictable hands of humankind.

Amid this turmoil, Irimith chose to intervene. She crafted an Auralite Crystal from a quantum stone, intending it to be a beacon of wisdom and knowledge. This enchanted crystal was destined for Earth and would descend at a moment of profound significance. This event of illumination would come to be known as “The Light of Irimith.”

Like a divine transmitter from the heavens, this light would establish laws and principles that humanity could embrace, guiding them for future generations. However, the crystal contained far more than mere guidelines; it held a universe within itself, filled with hidden secrets sprawled across multiple dimensions, all waiting to be discovered.

To safeguard this sacred source of knowledge, Irimith chose a plateau on the mountain of the moon. Centuries ago, this abandoned plateau was considered the playground of the gods. It can only be described as “Paradise on earth.”

In the center of this plateau stands a magnificent dome-shaped temple. Within its dome room, the walls are filled with priceless treasures of the gods.

At a designated time Irimith would place the Auralite crystal on top of a golden pedestal in the main dome room chamber. There its power would be used to illuminate the path of enlightenment and knowledge. But before she did that, she would have to hand pick six earthbound disciples from the remote villages with special skills.

Each prophet would be endowed with a powerful spiritual gift to protect the crystal for the furtherment of nature and the laws that it represented. Should the crystal fall into the wrong hands, it could be used for dark magic, upsetting the balance it was created to maintain. If the chosen should ever stray from their journey, the impact of their own hand will dwell in darkness.

Will this celestial gem lead humanity back to ancient laws of balance and harmony, or will the shadows of chaos prevail? The destiny of the world hangs in the cosmic scales of truth!

Chapter 4

The Prophet’s

Water pours down the rocky face of the waterfall, crashing into the rushing river below—a breathtaking display of nature’s raw power. From within the rainforest, a young female warrior steps into the clearing. She wears a leather beaded strap tied around her forehead, matching her two-piece animal-skin outfit. Stepping cautiously into the clearing with a somewhat shabby self-defense stick in her hand, she whispers, “What am I doing here? I must be out of my mind.” Turning to go back, she suddenly hears footsteps approaching from inside the rainforest—something big. She suspects she’s being followed, but now it’s evident—she is not alone. Somebody, or something, has been trailing her, and she is about to find out what it is. Instantly, she drops into a warrior stance, preparing herself. A shadow of a giant appears, parting the trees with massive hands, breaking through the dense forest with a powerful body. The warrior girl yells, “Who are you, and what do you want?” The creature stays hidden in dust and debris as it steps forward. The massive figure glances upward, as if looking at something, not paying attention to the girl. As it steps forward, it trips over a stump, falling flat at her feet. His front cap falls off, and he hits his head on a rock. He has a black curly beard, soiled work clothes, and a patch over one eye—a big man, but still just a man. She points her spear at him and demands, “Why are you following me?” Lying flat on his stomach, he awkwardly points at a bird gliding effortlessly in the wind. In a deep but innocent tone, he replies, “Sparrow—white sparrow.” Within moments, two others step into the clearing: a girl dressed in colorful clothing, glasses perched on her nose, and a matching headdress, followed by a hooded man. Now, there are four strangers. Not knowing what to say, they exchange curious glances as the waterfall’s roar fills the silence. The warrior girl, still gripping her spear, shatters the tension. Eyeing each figure, she declares, “This can’t be a coincidence. So, I take it we’re all here for a reason. Does anyone know why?” The broad-shouldered giant rises, rubbing his head as a lump forms on his forehead. He picks up his cap, dusts it off, and plants it at a slight angle. He stumbles over his words but says, “I am Rufus, the blacksmith of my village.” His gaze drops from her sharp stare. For such a big man, he seems shy and timid. In the dim clearing, the hooded man steps forward, his face revealed, and his limp draws attention. His ornate jewelry glimmers—beaded necklaces and bracelets jingle softly. He clears his throat and says, “He’s obviously the quiet type,” nodding toward Rufus. Gesturing with his hands, he continues, “My name is Sherman Wise, and I believe I have some inkling of what brought us here.” He pauses. “Just as I was settling in to write with my inkwell and papers, something caught my eye—something unusual.” The warrior girl stays firm, eyes sharp. “You write on paper?” With a puff of pride, Sherman straightens. “Indeed! I am an author, after all.” She raises an eyebrow, skepticism in her voice. “Fancy outfit for someone who spends all day writing.”

Sherman doesn’t waver. “I express my feelings by the way I dress and with the words I write.” His smile broadens. “I see you express your feelings primitively… with a spear.” She lets out a hard breath through her nose, meeting his unyielding stare. “To each his own, my dear. Now, may I continue?” Reluctantly, the warrior girl nods, still gauging his intentions. “I heard a voice—at first, I thought it was a figment of my imagination. But then, I saw a vision of this very spot. The voice guided me to follow a white sparrow dancing above me—an inexplicable urge I couldn’t ignore. And so, here I am.” From the sidelines, the girl in vibrant clothing jumps in. “That sparrow is from Angola!” The warrior girl shoots her a confused look. “What are you talking about?” “It’s a Cape sparrow species!” Asha focuses intently on the bird. “Usually, they have a white tail with colorful stripes, but this one is pure white. I’ve never seen anything like it. It must be an albino—extraordinarily rare. I couldn’t resist following it. I’m Asha, an animal caretaker—I know every species by heart; animals are my passion.” The warrior girl rolls her eyes. “Thanks for the ornithology lesson, Miss Asha, but can you shed some light on why we’re here?” “You can call me Asha,” the girl replies, “and like you, I was compelled.” Sherman, noticing the warrior’s defensive stance, says, “Well, you can see by now we mean no harm. So, tell us your story. What drew you here?” The warrior relaxes slightly, shuffling her feet, and plants her spear firmly in the ground. Head held high, she declares, “I’m Deandra, training to be a warrior in the king’s personal guard. This morning, during my training, I had a vision of this place. I’m skeptical about magic, but the vision was too vivid to dismiss. I also saw the sparrow and felt an undeniable pull to follow it here.” Sherman studies her with a curious look. “Aren’t you a bit short for a king’s guard?” Deandra glares, her intensity sharp. “NO! I mean, I’m still growing.” She steps forward, and her presence is overwhelming, making the group take a cautious step back. As she moves, Sherman notices bruises along her right side. With gentle concern, he asks, “Where did you get all those bruises?” Her aggression deflates instantly. She looks down, a melancholy shadow in her eyes. She whispers, “He didn’t mean it.” Then, quickly, she snaps back, “I mean, combat training! What do you care?” Sherman and Asha stand frozen, at a loss for words. Sherman feels she is hiding something, about to press further, when Asha whispers, “Let’s leave this alone.” Amid the exchange, no one notices a strikingly beautiful girl on a rock, listening intently, studying her nails. She says, “How can a girl keep herself fresh while trudging through this jungle?” The conversation falls silent, all eyes turning to her. Deandra asks, “How long have you been sitting there?” Still focused on her nails, the beautiful girl replies, “Since the beginning. I didn’t want to intrude; you all seemed to be having so much fun.” A smirk tugs on Deandra’s lips. “And how did you get here?” With a casual shrug, still studying her nails, the girl says, “The same way you all did. I was in my shop doing somebody’s hair. I’m a braider hairstylist that caught my attention,” as she casually points at the sparrow, letting out a sigh, “couldn’t help it so I followed it, and here I am.” as she shrugs her shoulders. In a sudden burst of =exasperation, she leaps to her feet and exclaims, “Oh no! I knew it—I’ve broken a nail!” Sherman’s eyes widen as he gazes at the beautiful woman. “Indeed, this isn’t the ideal environment for a lady like yourself…” “Why, thank you,” she replies, a smile curling on her lips. “A gentleman amidst this jungle? How delightful. My name is Centra,” Sherman seizes the opportunity, now that he has her attention. He responds, “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Sherman Wise.” Sherman reaches out his hand in greeting, and Centra reciprocates as he leans over to kiss her hand. But before he can, another figure bursts from the jungle shadows, colliding into Sherman’s outstretched hand. Breathless, the newcomer says, “Pardon my intrusion, but for some reason, I believe I’m meant to be here.”

Chapter 5

The Formidable Six

Clearly startled and visibly annoyed, Sherman squinting at the latecomer with irritation. This newcomer was dressed to impress, in a silky white jacket adorned with a straight collar and striking gold trim that emphasized its tailored elegance. The short jacket ended at his waist and paired with pristine white pants that boasted a dazzling gold stripe trailing down the sides. He looked every bit like a flamboyant matador prepared to face a charging bull. And with a well-placed mole on his lower lip, it allowed his good looks to become even more enchanting. But what truly caught everyone’s attention were his shoes—gold, sparkling brilliantly in the light with looping at the toes, as if fit for a royal. Centra, taken by the newcomer’s dazzling attire,had to ask,“Are you a royal or something?” The latecomer straightened up, took a deep breath, and with a charming dimple smile, “Some say so .” His sparkling eyes met hers. He then extended his hand to her, “I am at your service, my lady.” Sherman dramatically rolled his eyes, saying, “excuse me,” elbowing his way back in front of the newcomer to reclaim Centa’s attention. “Before we were so rudely interrupted my dear,he declared with a hint of arrogance creeping into his tone, “I was about to explain that I am a literary scholar.” Raising his brow, “Haven’t we met before?” With a smirk, the latecomer shoots back, “A scallop? Isn’t that a wretched ugly creature of the sea,that does nothing but linger on the ocean floor?” Frustrated, Sherman snapped back, “Not a scallop,”his tone firm,“a scholar! He sighs with impatience, “Clearly, it’s a concept you know nothing about. It’s a prestigious position.”He throws a confident smile at Centra. The newcomer quickly interjects, “Sounds a bit boring, don’t you think?

The newcomer continues, a hand gesture to his chest,”I on the other hand,work directly with the King.” Asher now, curious about this charismatic figure, turned to him, “And you are?” “They call me Himrith,” he replies in a smooth manner,his confidence obvious. Centra leaned in, her eyes sparkling with inquisitiveness. “So…what do you do for the king, Mister Handsome?” Himrith’s smile widened, “I’m a singer and actor; the King has commissioned me to perform at the Grand Banquet. I was on my way to rehearsals when I lost my way and ended up here. Strange though,I’ve walked that path a thousand times.” Himrith shrugs his shoulders, “yet, here I am.” Deandra comments, “Everything that’s been going on today is strange.” Asher’s face brightened as she burst out, “I’ve seen you perform! You’re quite talented!” Centra couldn’t resist adding flirtatiously, “Oh really? Perhaps one day you could serenade me Mr Himrith the Handsome.” Himrith met her playful expression, bowing slightly. “It would be my honor,” Sherman glares at Himrith, muttering under his breath, “A musician? What a trite occupation.” Deandra pounds her spear into the rock she’s standing on, raising her voice with authority, “Enough of this trivial banter. What are we doing here!” Asha eyes open wide, “This must be some sort of divine intervention. We were all summoned here for a reason. We come from different tribes and backgrounds.” Sherman adds, “We also display very different personalities and etiquettes.” He shot a disdainful glance at Himrith, grumbling, “what on earth could we possibly have in common?” Asha pressed on, “That’s precisely it. We were probably chosen by the gods because of our differences.” Himrith laughs out loud, shaking his head, “come on, another tall tale about the gods. Whenever something unexplainable occurs, it’s always the gods we refer to.” He raised his finger theatrically towards the sky, “Do you really think someone is up there watching our every move!?” Just then, an unexpected rumble of thunder rolled across the sky, the sound echoing ominously above them. They all froze, exchanging bewildered glances. Asha turned to Himrith, her voice respectfully low. “You shouldn’t point. It may be considered rude.”

Chapter 6

A chirp off the old rock

The white sparrow returns, fluttering over their heads, chirping loudly. Deandra turns to Asha. “What do you think it’s trying to say?” Asha squints upward, watching the sparrow. “I’m not sure, but I think we’re going to find out.” Suddenly, with a burst of energy, the sparrow darts straight into the thundering cascade of the waterfall. A tense silence falls over the group. The little bird re-emerges, painting a trail of water droplets as it soars into the sky. “I think it’s trying to communicate with us,” Asha says. An idea sparks in Deandra’s mind. “I think you’re right, Asha, but whatever it is, I think it has something to do with those falls.” She turns to the group and waves, calling out, “Come on, everybody—let’s check out the fal

Chapter 7

Himrith’s escape

Himrith, not interested in going on any adventure that might dirty his clothes or force him into physical work, tries to deflect Asha’s interpretation and persuade the group to abandon the quest. Talking fast, in a casual tone, he says, “Come on, it’s hot out here. Maybe the little guy just wants to cool off before heading home. Such a smart little creature! We should all do the same, don’t you think?” Himrith walks quickly to the riverbank, his fancy shoes squeaking with every step. He dips his fingers into the river and gently splashes water on his face. With an uncomfortable grin, he adds, “Wow, how refreshing! Well, it’s truly been a pleasure meeting all of you.” He turns to Sherman and, with a patronizing tone, says, “Hey, scholar boy, here’s a couple of tickets for my next show—hand them out.” Sherman looks at Himrith with a blank stare. Himrith continues, “Maybe we’ll run into each other again, sometime.” Mumbling under his breath, “NOT,” he flashes a nonchalant smile and offers Centra his arm. “My dear, I’ll escort you home. The jungle is no place for a lady.” Centra awkwardly accepts, unsure of what’s really happening. Himrith glances up at the group, a half smile on his face. “Ta-ta! I hate to safari and run, such a fun bunch.” Asha, Deandra, and Rufus exchange perplexed looks. Himrith escorts Centra, waving a quick goodbye, as he navigates around Sherman—only to bump straight into a wall named Rufus. Startled, Himrith looks down at Rufus’s oversized hands and clears his throat with a slight cough. “Humph, excuse me, big hands! You’re blocking my path.” Rufus growls, his eyes narrowing slightly. Deandra steps up on a large flat rock, and with a fierce tone, she says, “Nobody’s going ANYWHERE!”

Chapter 8

Big Hands

Deandra focuses her gaze on the roaring falls as her instincts ignite. “We’re overlooking something important.” She points with her spear, excitement bubbling in her voice. “Look! Up there!” she cries, directing them toward a mist-shrouded ledge, filled with vegetation at the cliff’s edge. “That must be a path! I bet that’s what the sparrow is trying to lead us to. Whatever destiny brought us here is waiting up there!”

With nervous apprehension, the group surveys the daunting rocky face. “Someone’s going to have to climb up and create a path for us,” Deandra says. Without hesitation, Rufus steps forward, determination in every line of his face. “Me do,” he says simply. He looks up with his one eye at the steep terrain, takes a deep breath, and reverses his weathered hat. With his colossal hands, he pries loose stubborn stones, each movement deliberate as he scales the jagged cliffside, forging a path with raw strength. Dust and debris fall with every forceful grip, as if he’s chipping away at the mountain with a hammer and chisel. Before long, he disappears into the mist of the waterfall. The group waits, anticipation building. Suddenly, from above, his massive hand breaks through the spray, triumphantly waving them up. “That’s our signal!” Deandra shouts over the roar of the falls, her heart racing. “We’ll follow the path Rufus took. We can do this!” Centra hesitates, her brow furrowing as she looks up nervously. “Maybe that’s easy for you, warrior girl. I didn’t sign up for a jungle excursion. Do I look like I’m dressed for this? And my hair… the mist could ruin it!” Himrith, overly enthusiastic, chimes in, “Totally! The mist could mess up our do’s!” Every eye turns to Himrith; even the forest creatures seem to pause in disbelief. But Deandra keeps her focus on Centra, determined to build her confidence. “Don’t worry, Centra. I’ll climb ahead. You can hold onto my spear, and I’ll pull you up.” With a roll of her eyes, Centra forces a sarcastic grin. “How delightful.” Asha leans over to Sherman and, in a soft, careful tone, whispers so the others won’t hear, “Are you OK climbing this ridge?” referring to his limp. “Thank you for your concern,” Sherman nods. “But I’m more than capable.”

Chapter 9

Deeper and Deeper

Working together, they scale the jagged mountain face, the mist swirling around them. Finally, they stand at the edge of the towering cliff, the thunderous roar of the waterfall echoing in their ears. Each heartbeat pulses with adrenaline, reminding them of the sheer drop just beyond their feet. But where is Rufus? If he’s not standing on the edge, he must have gone into the waterfall. Deandra, fearless and undeterred, shouts above the chaos, “Follow me!” and she bravely steps into the thickest part of the mist, her figure dissolving rapidly into the haze. The rest of the group exchange anxious glances, the fear of the unknown raising the hair on their arms. Asha breaks the silence, a grin on her face. “Exhilarating, don’t you think?” she says, removing her glasses. “What I can’t see can’t hurt me.” She follows Deandra, disappearing into the translucent shroud. Inspired by Asha’s courage, Sherman shrugs and plunges after her into the mist. Meanwhile, Himrith stands frozen at the edge, heart pounding as he peers into the dizzying depths where the water crashes mercilessly against the rocks below. With no other choice, fully aware that retreat is not an option, he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and whispers to Centra, “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.” Centra meets his gaze, her anxiety easing slightly as he takes her trembling hand. Together, they step into the swirling mist, enveloped by it. Ahead, a concealed passage hides behind the thunderous waterfall. The space feels cramped, especially with Himrith’s pointy shoes, which he continuously maneuvers, like navigating a ship through tight waters, careful not to let them get scratched. The cool, refreshing mist kisses their skin, invigorating them as they move deeper into the unknown. And then, as if the world itself pauses, they are shrouded in eerie silence.

Chapter 10

The sheer magnitude

The deafening roar, pounding in their ears just moments ago, vanishes as if someone pulls the plug on a massive engine. Centra gently nudges Himrith, urging him to open his eyes. An exhale of relief escapes him as he turns to see the immense glass curtain of the waterfall behind them. They speak without shouting in this newfound tranquility, their footsteps echoing hauntingly within the vast cave. A serene waterway meanders gracefully through the cave’s center, merging seamlessly with the cascading waters above. The jagged rock tells stories of fiery eruptions long past. The walls bear the scars of ancient volcanic activity—rough and pitted. An uneven, rocky walkway runs on either side, leading deeper into the cave. Deandra urges, “Let’s keep moving.” Ever the historian, Sherman marvels, “This place is once an active volcano; its molten lava carved out these walls centuries ago.” Centra uses her hands to keep balance, stumbling to one knee, grabbing her ankle. “Crying, my ankle—I think I’ve twisted it.” Himrith immediately goes to her aid, lifting her off her knee so she can limp on one leg. Himrith announces, “Put your arm around my shoulder; you can use me as a crutch.” Centra looks at her hand, more concerned about her nails than her ankle. She yells out, “Oh darn, I broke another nail! I hope you’re all happy. Whatever this is we’re doing, it better be worth it—I’m going to be late for an appointment.” Himrith replies, “And I’m going to be late for rehearsal.” Asha peers deep into the darkness ahead, a serious tone in her voice. “I have a strong feeling you all are going to have to cancel.”

Chapter 11

Bones tell the story

They delve deeper and deeper into the cave; the air grows thick with the scent of damp earth and rich vegetation—lush vines drape from the ceiling, cloaking the pitted rock formations in vibrant green. Like nature’s chandeliers, their shadows flicker in rhythm with the waterway below. The melodic sound of dripping water echoes throughout the cave, creating a serene yet eerie symphony of tones, until they finally come upon a dead end. Here, the waterway lies still, its glassy surface reflecting the faint light that filters through from the distant waterfall. Deandra sighs, “Looks like this is it; we can’t go any further.” Centra, visibly fatigued and limping, groans, “You can say that again—my ankle is killing me! Even worse, this cave is hot, damp, and uncomfortable. I loathe it!” Himrith guides Centra over to a rock formation where she can sit and rest. Meanwhile, Rufus picks up a large rock and chucks it into the water. They all watch it splash and ripple before it quickly sinks. Rufus remarks, “Deep.” Himrith sarcastically replies, “Well, I’m glad we got that out of the way.” As the ripples cut through the surface, they reflect light onto the cave walls, revealing a chilling sight. Centra lets out a blood-curdling scream, jumping back into Himrith’s arms, burying her face in his shoulder in sheer terror. The group’s attention turns to what frightens her. Next to the rock formation where Centra had sat, lie the skeletal remains of a man. Deandra bravely kneels beside them, examining the remnants. “Don’t worry, he’s been dead for quite some time. Besides, look—he has a chain shackled to his ankle. I don’t think he’s going anywhere soon.” Rufus whispers, “Prisoner.” Asha remarks, “Yes, Rufus, I think you’re right. Interesting, though—his remains are bleached white and clean, like he’s been submerged in boiling water. I’ve seen this before with small animals. And look—there are chains strewn all over the walls beneath the thick vegetation. What kind of place is this?” Sherman, with a clear observation, looks into the eyes of the whole group and replies, “Correction, what kind of place is this!” Sherman removes his cape and gently lays it over the remains, shielding Centra from the unsettling sight. “Why do the gods bring us to this dungeon?” he wonders aloud. “I can’t help but think this is some sort of test.” Himrith, still comforting Centra, adds, “This place gives me the creeps.”

Chapter 12

The Treasure of the Gods

While the group examines the bone remains to determine their origin, a metallic reflection catches the corner of Asha’s eye, drawing her toward something hidden behind the thick foliage. “Hey, look what I found!” she says, pulling aside the vines to reveal a weathered weapons rack. Deandra’s eyes light up; as a weapons connoisseur, she immediately recognizes its value, strutting back and forth, gliding her hand over the rack with deep affection. “This is incredible!” she says, unstrapping one of the shields and playfully wielding it as if she’s in a battle. With a firm tap, the shield rings out like a bell, reverberating through the cave. “It’s definitely metal and looks like it’s been recently cleaned and polished. Weapons like this are complicated to forge.” Rufus, familiar with all types of metals, peers closely at the shield as Deandra hands it to him. “Is this a metal you recognize?” Deandra asks. With all his strength, Rufus grunts and attempts to bend the metal with his large hands but fails. A man of few words—and sometimes less—he simply replies, “No.” Sherman steps closer, narrowing his eyes as he examines the markings on the front of the shield. “These symbols represent the Spirit Gods,” he says solemnly. “These weapons are no ordinary artifacts; they belong to the divine. Whoever left them here must have been guarding something, and our friend chained to the wall was likely an intruder—left here to frighten off anyone brave enough to seek this mountain’s…” Before Sherman can finish his sentence, Himrith cuts in. “We should consider ourselves intruders and get out of here while the getting is good, or we’ll end up like,” Himrith clears his throat and swallows hard, pointing at the remains of their shackled friend, “that guy.” Sherman looks at Himrith. “Please, allow me to finish my sentence about the mountain’s treasures.” Hearing this, Himrith’s attitude changes completely. “Did you say treasures?!” He leans forward. “What about treasures?!” Asha, her gaze sweeping through the cavern as she thinks back to her childhood, nods. “Yes, I remember my father telling my sister and me bedtime stories of magical legends and folk tales of the Mountain of the Moon. We could see the mountains from our bedroom window. He would give us a cup of porridge and light the fireplace in our room. I can still hear the crackling wood as he began his stories—like the man who was cursed by a wizard and turned into a wolf, searching for his beloved.” Himrith cuts in, “What does this have to do with treasure?” Deandra gives him a cross look. “Don’t interrupt.” Asha continues, “He told us stories of the legend of the golden fleece that can heal any wound. And, of course, the tales of the Kinshasa River and its many mysteries. The way the legend goes, hidden somewhere in the Mountain of the Moon is the river’s origin, and whoever finds it will find the treasures of the gods. My father told me many men have taken on this quest but never returned. When we were kids, it seemed so real; growing up, we realized it was just a folktale.” Asha looks around, contemplating. “But now I wonder—was it actually a folktale?” “That’s it!” Sherman declares. “The waterfall runs directly into the Kinshasa River. It occurred to me when we first entered under the falls that this might lead to its origin. For some reason, lately, I’ve been passionately deciphering ancient texts on the theology that questions the origin of the Kinshasa River. I have come up with some possible theories of my own—that the gods created this great river and placed it atop the Mountain of the Moon inside a temple, surrounded by the treasures of these gods. It’s been said that an army possessing these treasures would be invincible and could rule the world.” Having a warrior’s adventurous spirit, Deandra declares, “Well, count me in!” Sherman interjects, “My spiritual curiosity brings me to the conclusion there’s more to this than meets the magical eye.” Rufus grunts, nodding his head positively. Centra remains indifferent. Asha adds, “This journey may prove that my father’s folktales were actually true!” Himrith responds, “Do I have a choice in not going?” The group, in unison, says, “No!!!”

Chapter 13

A clue

Deandra begins tapping her spear against the walls. Rufus looks curious. “What doing?” Deandra replies, “I’m searching for something hollow. I believe there’s an entrance here somewhere. Whoever owns those weapons was guarding this cave.” Himrith, skepticism creeping into his voice, speaks out to the group, “Excuse me, I don’t mean to cough up a hairball on your little expedition, but did you ever think that the Spirit Gods, or whatever you want to call them, look at us as intruders?” He pauses with a sigh. “Warrior girl over there is knocking on the walls like a doorbell. What if somebody answers—then what do we do?” He throws his arms up to emphasize his point. “You mentioned the weapons look recently cleaned. How do we know we didn’t alert them just by being here?” Seeing their pensive looks all fixed on him, he continues confidently, “I’m all for a little fun and treasure hunting, but if you haven’t noticed, this is a dungeon, not a playground. I vote we get out of here before we end up chained to a wall like our bony friend over there.” His plea reverberates through the group, except for Centra, who is now napping comfortably against a wall. Sherman shoots Himrith a critical look. “You’ve been trying to push us to leave since the beginning.” Himrith objects, “Listen, my doctor told me that death is not suitable for my health, and if you haven’t noticed, this place is full of it!” Deandra steps forward and says, “I’m not afraid of death.” Himrith shoots back, “If you want to put your head in a lion’s mouth, go right ahead, but I like my head, and I want to keep it on my shoulders!!! Look at you guys, all high and mighty. I’m trying to be practical. We’re no heroes—nothing personal. Let’s face the facts. Deandra’s a crazy wannabe warrior, ready to fight anybody. She’d jump in front of a charging herd of elephants just to prove she’s tough enough. Asha, so calm and sweet, probably doesn’t have a friend in the world except her animals, and that’s not really considered a friend, is it? Rufus, choosing to be a blacksmith to avoid contact and conversation with other humans—I get it, a shy giant who was probably bullied for being different and now struggles to put two words together in a sentence.” Rufus growls. “And you, Sherman, a fake wise man. You act so smart, but be honest—you probably got kicked out of wizard school, so you play the scholar to cover up your shortcomings with your buttons and bells and fancy words.” Centra is undeniably beautiful, yet beneath her stunning exterior lies a deep loneliness. She yearns to be loved for who she truly is, not just for her appearance. And as for myself, people like me—I’m kind of a celebrity. I have a lot to live for. If it weren’t for Centra, I would’ve hightailed it out of here a long time ago.” Deandra shoots back fiercely, “Okay… let’s be honest, Mr. Himrith the handsome. You’re a self-centered, narcissistic little boy who only cares about himself—terrified of getting his clothes dirty or messing up his hair. What kind of man are you?” “That’s not true!” Himrith protests. “I don’t care about my clothes. Himrith puts his hand on his chin to think—except these shoes and this one particular outfit I got on sale in my closet at home. It’s blue and purple, with a touch of yellow. I wore it at the parade last year, and everybody said—before Himrith can say another word, Sherman yells out, “Enough of this foolishness.” Asha steps in to diffuse the situation. “Okay,” she says gently, “maybe we’re all just misfits in our own ways, disguising ourselves with masks to fit into society. Maybe that’s precisely why we find ourselves here together. Let’s trust that the gods have led us to this moment for a reason. I think we should look around and see what else we can find. If we find nothing, then we go back the way we came. Does that sound fair?” Himrith insists, “I’ll agree if she stops pounding on the walls.” Asha looks at the group. Deandra reluctantly agrees, “Okay, whatever,” giving Himrith the stink eye. The rest of the group nods. “Okay then. Let’s search.”

Chapter 14

Birds of a feather

Himrith paces anxiously, splashing through the newly formed smoky puddles, his heart racing with a blend of anguish and nerves. Suddenly, a reflection at the far corner of the cave catches his interest; the polished surface of a shield propped against a nearby rock. A grin slowly creeps across his face. He strolls over to the shield, picks it up, and places it atop the rack of spears, thinking how wonderful it is to see his reflection. “Not too shabby, kid,” he chuckles to himself, winking as he playfully points at his own image. Just then, with her eyes half-open and still groggy, Centra calls out, “Himrith, is that you?” Caught off guard, he quickly turns away from his reflection, feeling a hint of embarrassment. “Yes, my love. How was your little nap? You were pretty shaken up,” his tone trying to mask his vanity. Centra rubs her eyes and asks, “I’m still feeling a bit lightheaded. What happened, exactly?” Himrith clears his throat. “You saw something that terrified you and fainted… right into my arms.” Centra gives him a nervous stare, recalling the moment. “Right, it was horrifying!” Puffing out his chest, Himrith proclaims, “Fear not, my love. I’m here now, your unwavering protector.” “That’s comforting,” Centra smiles, “but what were you doing with that metal thing?” Himrith feigns innocence, glancing around. “Metal thing? Mmm, what do you mean, my sweetness?” When she points playfully at the shield, he stammers, “Oh, you mean this?!” He struggles to fabricate a response, “Ah, this is a warrior’s shield.” He puts his ear to the shield and taps on it firmly; it rings like a bell. “Perfect. That’s how you test its density. You have to know what to listen for, of course.” Centra purrs with delight, “Wow, you’re quite the scholar!” Himrith snaps his fingers, beaming. “Sherman isn’t the only scholar around here. You need expertise in the warrior business! Before I was a singer, I was the equipment tester for the Chief of my village. They even called me Himrith the Hitter because I never missed a target!” “Yummy, you’re so talented,” a spark of mischief in her eyes. “Do you think you could show me some moves?” His expression changes to one of concern. “Moves? What kind of moves?” With a playful pout, she points toward the rack of spears. “Please!” “Well, if you insist, my little dove. I don’t usually show off, though.” She claps her hands in excitement, and he hesitantly reaches for a heavy metal spear. It feels awkward in his grasp, as he has never really held one before. “First, you need to check the balance,” he says, forcing a smile as he fumbles to stabilize it in his palm. Looking at Centra with a fabricated confidence, he announces, “Balance feels good!” Then, summoning all his strength, he launches the spear into the air, watching it spin haphazardly above his head. “Oh wow!” Centra gasps, leaning back in awe. Encouraged by her reaction, Himrith giggles nervously. Above the swishing sound of the spear, a bird screeches, and a flurry of white feathers drifts down around them like confetti. “How did you do that?” Centra exclaims, her eyes wide with wonder. In a comical twist of fate, the spear follows the feathers in its clumsy descent, plummeting straight down and narrowly missing Himrith’s head before thudding into the rack.

Clearing his throat, swallowing hard against his rising apprehension, Himrith falters his explanation, “Well, I thought I’d sprinkle a bit of magic into the exhibition, my little buttercup!” He hunches over, peeking fretfully around as more feathers float down, gently landing atop his head and shoulders, adding a touch of absurdity to the moment.

Chapter 15

Prophecy

Deandra continues tapping her spear on the walls between the vines, lightly enough not to alert Himrith. “Asha,” Deandra asks, “have you seen the white sparrow? Maybe the bird can give us another clue.” Asha tilts her head. “Well, I just saw it fly into the cave,” her eyes search the area around her, “but it seems to have disappeared again…How strange.” Deandra calls out with excitement, “Sherman, come quickly. I found something. It looks like some ancient writing. Can you decipher it? It might give us a clue.” Sherman hurries over to examine it. “It’s some sort of ancient hieroglyphics, but I need more light.” Asha, having watched Himrith admiring himself moments ago, quickly turns and looks back at Deandra, Sherman, and Rufus. “Wait, I have an idea.” Asha quickly makes her way over to Himrith and Centra, who are on the other side of the cave, conversing.

Asha quietly approaches Himrith from behind. Himrith, immersed in his conversation with Centra, is unaware of her presence. Using a gentle tone, Asha asks, “Excuse me, Himrith, are you done with that shield? I need to borrow it.”

Himrith, slightly startled, immediately brushes off the last of the white feathers attached to his clothing. Just before turning to Asha, he eyeballs the last feather stuck to his face, snatching it off. Now, with an uncomfortably grinning, “Yes, of course, take it, it’s yours.” Asha holds back a laugh, “I’ll give it back to you when we are finished so you can continue to do… whatever it is you’re doing.”

Asha, with innate instinct, gives him a suspicious look, sure he is hiding something, but she can’t put a finger on what it is. As she turns to walk away, a small white feather, gently gliding through the air, lands on the back of Asha’s hand. She inspects it, trying to suppose where it may have come from. Before she can even gather her thoughts, Sherman yells out, “Asha, come on, what’s the plan?” Asha puts the feather in her pocket, hastening over to Sherman. Placing the shield on top of a rock, she moves it in different directions, trying to reflect the light off the water to where Sherman is standing. “How’s that? Does that help?” “Yes, perfect, great idea! I think I can see it well enough to decipher it easily.” Sherman runs his fingers across the caved stone. Thinking out loud, “It shows a beam of light from some sort of a crystal that opens a door in this cave. There is also a prophecy written here. I don’t quite understand it. I need more time to study.” Deandra, with a thrill of anticipation in her voice, says, “Does it show where the door is?” Asha readjusts the light reflecting from the shield. Sherman’s eyes widen when the light reveals a clue, “Where the light ends and the darkness begins…”

Rufus scratches his head. “But what means?” Asha, trying to piece it together, repeats the words from the stone, “Where the light ends and the darkness begins. Hmm, sounds like a metaphor for something.” Centra, overhearing the conversation, suddenly stands up with a jolt of adrenaline, charged with excitement, and says, “It’s a riddle, and I know the answer!!!”—all eyes glued on her. She hesitates, savoring the moment, now being the center of attention. Deandra, impatient, prompts her, “Okay already… will you tell us what it is?” Centra says, “It’s obvious, it’s a crack.” Asha gives her two thumbs up, “Centra, that’s marvelous! It makes perfect sense.” Centra beams with delight, “I was always good with riddles.” She runs her fingers through her long black hair and slips it behind her ear, “I was the best in my class.” Himrith, walking over to the excited group, leaving the elated Centra comfortably sitting on her rock, uses a cynical tone, “Not to be a party pooper, but if you haven’t noticed, there are a million holes and cracks in this place, and the walls are covered with vegetation.” He sighs, “How are we going to find this specific magical crack with those odds? It’s impossible.” While the group examines the walls around them, taking into consideration what Himrith has just said, Asha notices a small mouse moving quickly along the corner of the wall. Asha eyes brighten with an idea. “I’ll show you how to find it.” She slowly moves toward the little mouse, who stops walking to wait for her. She lays down her open palm next to the mouse. The cute grey mouse smells her fingers, lets out a little squeak, and runs into the palm of her hand, like they were longtime friends. The group looks at her in amazement. Asha smiles, gently stroking the little creature, as there seems to be an instinctual bond between them. “Which way out, little fella?” The mouse squeaks. Asha sets him lovingly back on the ground. Looking up at her, he sits back on his hind legs and squeaks some more. Asha gives him a brief belly, “Okay, now show us the way.” Centra shrieks, “You don’t expect us to follow that thing, now do you? It might lead us to its whole family.” The group ignores Centra’s outburst. Deandra and Rufus follow after Asha, wondering where the mouse will lead. Staring in disbelief, the little mouse heads for a small crack in the wall. Before entering, he stops and squeaks while looking back at Asha, as if he is saying, “Follow me,” and then disappears into the crack.

Deandra yells out to Sherman, who is still examining the carved rock, “I think we found something here!” “Just give me a minute,” Sherman murmurs, “I’m at the last few lines at the bottom of the wall.” He kneels down, clamping his jaw to bear the sharp pain that rips through his lame leg. His fingers begin to sift through layers of dirt and grime that have settled over the stone for decades. Slowly, a strange symbol emerges: a circle with a line drawn through its center. “Interesting,” he whispers to himself. Sherman continues to chip away at the ancient grime. Next to the symbol, there are six stick figures standing on the outside of the circle. He thinks, ‘What could this mean?’ Something at the bottom of the carving catches his eye. He sees what appears to be letters that are larger than the others and cut deeper into the stone. Able to use one finger to remove the muddy dirt caked inside each groove, he persists, scraping it clean until he uncovers a letter. Becoming obsessed with the moment, he scrapes vigorously until all letters are fairly visible. The cave shadows cloak the remaining letters. Without taking his eyes from the carving, he pulls a rolled piece of parchment and a charcoal stick from his pocket. His hands carefully position the parchment against the face of the stone. Rubbing the charcoal firmly against the parchment, he maneuvers the etching into the dim light. He reads the ancient inscribed word: ZENDARA.

Chapter 16

Last Stand

Centra wipes her forehead with the back of her hand, exhaling uncomfortably. “Is it just me, or is it getting unbearably hot in this cave?” Asha nods in agreement. “You’re right; the temperature has been rising ever since we arrived.” She pauses, her senses sharpen. “Do you smell that? It’s like warm metal lingering in the air.” Asha scans their surroundings. Her gaze falls upon a transparent mist swirling ominously along the cave’s ceiling. With a growing sense of urgency, she turns to Sherman, “What is that?” Sherman, still focused on the stone carving, answers with a slightly annoyed tone, looking over his shoulder at Asha, “What is it?” Asha points up at the misty ceiling. Sherman labors to stand up from his kneeling position to look up. Rolling up the piece of parchment paper that he had written on, he places it into his pocket. “I noticed it when we first got here. I didn’t want to alarm anybody.” His expression becomes one of concern. “But now it has grown in magnitude.”

“It didn’t look like it would become a problem.” Deandra, distracted from her visual pursuit of the mouse, asks, “Then what is it?” Sherman explains, “It’s steam venting from the volcano’s core.” Centra, alarmed and panicking, asks, “Is it dangerous?” The worry is now evident on Sherman’s face, a hot sweat forming on his forehead. “I believe it’s toxic. If it keeps up like this, we could all end up like our bony friend in the corner.” Centra, becoming unraveled, Himrith attempts to console her, sarcastically saying, “Good job, Sherman. You’re able to put words together that can certainly comfort anybody. So… now you’re a scientist besides being an all-knowing scholar, or is it just your opinion?” Sherman shoots him a wry grin, “Let me put it to you this way, you don’t have to be a scientist to recognize that what’s happening here is volcanic in nature. Which is a natural phenomenon for this environment.” He’s glaring at Himrith, “Any questions?” Deandra interrupts, eyeing the expanding cloud. “It seems to be moving toward us like it knows we’re here?” Himrith throws his hands in the air with disgust, “How natural is that, Mr. Scientist!?” Sherman allows his silence to speak for him. Asha takes a deep breath. “How long do we have?” Sherman looks up to examine the fast-moving cloud. “At the current rate, we likely have less than an hour—if we’re fortunate.” Himrith, nervous agitation running through his body, says, “I have an opinion too. I say it’s time to go, and I mean… right now,” his hands gesturing toward the cave’s exit.

Sherman wavers just long enough to say, “As much as I hate to admit it, perhaps… he’s right. We can always come for another stimulating science lesson.” Himrith says under his breath, “Fat chance.” Gently, he assists Centra to her feet, wrapping an arm around her waist as they prepare to flee. “Don’t worry,” he tells her, “we’ll be out of here soon.” Centra, still struggling with a twisted ankle, leans heavily against Himrith, squinting down at the path leading to the waterfall exit. The rest of the group remains fixated on the toxic fumes accumulating above their heads.

Centra pauses, looking down at the path exiting the cave. She observes, “It looks like the waterfall has moved closer to us. Is that possible?” Himrith looks up, panic flashing across his face. “Inside the cave!? Oh no!!” “Listen up,” he calls to the group, “I think we have an even bigger problem.” He points down the path. “And whatever it is, it’s racing toward us fast!” Asha quickly turns, honing her sharp vision on the mysterious cloud lingering in the upper cavern. “It looks like it’s raining, but when the drops hit the surface of the water, on either side of the path, they turn to steam.” Himrith smirks, “Okay, Mr. Scientist, history scholar, what’s our next move?”

A pensive expression comes over Sherman’s face. “Unfortunately, what we are experiencing is volcanic correction. When the temperature rises in the heart of a volcano, it must cool itself down. The high volcanic temperature then releases steam, and the heated rain helps bring things back to normal. My guess is, it’s not cooling down fast enough, so it’s drawing the waterfall in toward its center in an attempt to cool itself at a faster rate. Which happens to be exactly where we are standing. It’s sort of a reaction to another reaction. That explains why the bones of our unfortunate friend are bleached white, and the weapons are polished clean.”

Deandra, thinking hard for a solution, says, “Maybe we can swim out.” Rufus steps toward the pond, kneels onto one knee, dips his finger in, and quickly pulls it out. “Hot, very hot,” he jams his smoking finger into his mouth. Asha looks around. “If only the white sparrow were here; she could show us the way out.” Himrith stammers in his reply, “Come on, Asha, your sparrow is the one that got us into this mess; it’s probably become bird soup by now, trying to high-tail it out of here.” Then he mutters under his breath, “Yep, she’s already been plucked.” Deandra acts quickly, desperately searching for the way out, pushing aside as much foliage as fast as she can. “We need to locate the crack; it’s our only way out.” Himrith rubs Centra’s shoulders, trying to pacify her. “We’re trapped; we’ll be boiled like chickens in a pot,” Centra cries, beginning to whimper, “What now! And besides, he is killing my shoulders.”

Still standing by the pond after his hot water test, Rufus notices muddy water seeping from a pitted hole in the wall. Intrigued, he moves closer to investigate. A bubbly sound of air echoes from within the opening. Leaning in, he places his ear against the cool stone. The noise grows louder. Before he can alert the others of his find, a rush of mud bursts from the hole, powerful enough to knock him off his feet, splattering him with a coat of cool muck. Moments later, mud bombs begin to bubble and burst from various holes in the cave, sending globs of muck flying in every direction. Centra screams as bits of mud land in her hair and splatter her clothing. Himrith screams even louder as mud splashes onto his cherished golden shoes. He frowns deeply, looking like a baby about to cry, burbling to himself, “Why the shoes? Anything but my shoes!” The noise increases to a deafening level. Thick mud oozes out of the lowest holes, slowly covering the surface of the cave.

Panic sets in; no one has a clue what to do next. Asha, deep in thought, remembers the little mouse that had tried to tell her something. Going back to where the mouse had exited earlier, she places her hand over the small hole. “Hey,” she shouts out urgently to the group. “I feel a rush of cool air from the other side! The opening has to be right around here somewhere!”

Chapter 17

Mudball

Deandra kneels next to Asha, letting her palm rest over the small hole. Angling the air up toward her face, her eyes sparkle with intrigue. She yells out, “You’re right; it smells so fresh, almost like the outside air.” Himrith, sitting on a wide, flat rock next to Centra, keeps his feet elevated to avoid the muck. Leaning closer to Centra, he remarks, “And now, we’re supposed to squeeze through that tiny opening?” He huffs and puffs, “Where are those freeloading gods when you need them? I’d love to see one of those fat gods squeeze themselves through that itty-bitty hole in the wall.”

Meanwhile, above the waterfall and into the sky, the atmosphere shifts as a cloud formation parts, revealing one of the gods slobbering over a large meal. With a furrowed brow, he looks down at his robust stomach, sneering, and he shoots an angry index finger down at Himrith. As if on cue, a massive bubble inflates on the cave wall beside an unaware Himrith, bursting to shower his face and hair with splats of mud. “Oh, fantastic!” Just as he opens his mouth to curse the gods again, a splat of mud flies into it. Centra glances over at him. “You shouldn’t mock the—” Before she can finish, Himrith interrupts, spitting out mud, “I know, I know! The gods.”

Chapter 18

Time is of the essence

Time running out, Sherman delves deeper into the ancient symbols chiseled on the wall. His finger traces a peculiar drawing. “Look here, it seems like a surge of lightning projecting from some sort of a crystal struck the wall to make it open.” Sherman elaborates, “Therefore, the entrance should bear scorch marks.” Asha wrinkles her brow, inquiring, “What does that mean?” Sherman answers, “In simple terms, wherever the door exists, it’s probably blackened; it should be easy to spot.”

Deandra sighs heavily. “Easy?! Every surface is cloaked in thick vegetation. This could take time, which we can’t afford.” With no other options, Deandra and Asha direct their efforts toward the area where Asha’s little friend had recently exited. They struggle to pull down the heavy, thick vines. Feeling the strain of their efforts, Deandra and Asha stop to catch their breath. From the corner of her eye, Deandra sees Rufus just standing and watching them. A shoulder drops, head hangs forward, and hands slap on her hips. “Come on, Rufus! Help us pull down these vines!”

Rufus snaps to attention. With powerful hands, he grasps the vines in bunches and easily yanks them from their roots, tossing them aside and unveiling the rocky surface beneath. Deandra shoots him an exasperated look. “Why didn’t you do that earlier?!” Rufus grunts nonchalantly, “You no ask.” Deandra looks in disbelief at Sherman, who just shrugs in response, making his way over to join them. With the wall now clear, wonder lights up Sherman’s face. He runs his hands over the jagged rock, marveling at it. “This is definitely it. Look at how much darker this formation is compared to the rest of the cave. Good work, Asha; this must be the spot.” Taking a deep breath, Deandra begins to tap her wooden spear against the exposed wall, straining to listen for any hollow spaces. Solid, solid—and then came the echo, reverberating back to her. The determined look of a warrior spreads across her face as she thrusts the spear forward, wedging it between two stones where the sound had resonated. Channeling all her strength, she pulls down on the spear. It slowly bends under the pressure until, with a deafening pop, it splinters and shatters into the air. Sherman shakes his head. “This wall has been sealed for centuries; it will take more than a wooden spear to break through.” At that moment, Deandra and Asha exchange knowing glances, their eyes gleaming as they speak in unison, “The metal spear! We can use the metal spear!” They grab each other by the shoulders, smiling with a bond of unity. Sherman interjects, “But how do we get to the rack? It’s on the far side of the cave; the mud has risen above our ankles, getting higher by the second, and it’s thick! We can barely take two steps without getting stuck. We’ll take our last hot shower by the time we make it there and back.” Asha, glancing at Himrith, says, “Look at Himrith! He’s right next to the rack of weapons! If we could just catch his attention, he could easily toss us one of the metal spears.” Sherman groans. “Oh no, not Himrith.” They all begin to jump and shout, calling out frantically to Himrith, who is standing on high ground, trying to avoid the rising mud around his shoes, stepping from dry spot to dry spot, muttering angrily under his breath. They continue to shout,“Throw us a spear from the rack! Himrith! Hello! Hey, throw us a spear!” The rushing sound of the mud bubbles popping every few seconds, combined with the intensity of the boiling rain, makes it nearly impossible for him to hear their desperate pleas. Centra, perched on a rock, tucks her feet in the air to avoid the rising mud. She notices Deandra and Sherman animatedly waving, so she offers a polite wave in return. They point toward the rack of weapons and then at Himrith. Tilting her head, she watches them mimic the action of throwing a spear, pointing insistently at Himrith. “I think they want you to throw them a spear, my dear!” she says, speaking loudly. Himrith, confusion clouding his mind, stammers, “What?!” Centra points at the spears, then back at Sherman, enunciating each word clearly as she yells, “Throw… them… a… spear!” Himrith, his nerves frayed, screams, “OK, OK.” By this time, the mud has reached the top of his shoes, and he’s run out of dry spots. He turns toward the rack and lifts one foot at a time as his beautiful shoes remain stuck in the mud, exposing his bare feet. “Now look at what happened!” he grimaces as the mud oozes between his shoeless toes with each step. “Look at my shoes—they’re getting ruined. Is this necessary?” Centra replies, “I think it’s important; they look pretty serious over there.” With a shaky hand, he grabs a spear from the rack. Glaring at Sherman, who is now doubling his efforts to encourage him, Himrith growls. Sherman waves his arms. Drawing on all the anxious energy he can muster, he launches the spear like a warrior seeking his prey, sending it hurtling straight toward Sherman. In disbelief, Sherman watches as the metal spear sails directly for his head. With a desperate, agile maneuver, he ducks just in time, narrowly avoiding disaster. The spear embeds itself into the rock wall Rufus had cleared of the foliage. Miraculously, Himrith’s aim proves true; small particles of dirt begin to crumble around the spear’s tip, inch by inch, revealing the crack. A narrow beam of light breaks through the debris, illuminating the cave. Sweating and relieved, Sherman nervously chuckles, “He may be a bit of a nutcase, but he certainly knows how to throw a spear.”

Chapter 19

The Final Moments

The ground shakes violently beneath their feet as the rock begins to shift. A pair of solid rock doors are unearthed, sending shockwaves through the mountain. A fierce gust of wind erupts through the crack, like the breath of an ancient beast awakening from eons of slumber. As the dust settles, what lies before them is a pristine, ornate golden marble staircase, spiraling upward, stretching into what feels like eternity. Torches hang on all the walls, brightly lighting up the staircase clipped into metal clasps. They swiftly jump from the mud that had crept up to the top of their ankles and onto the stairwell platform. This is their sanctuary, their only hope for escape from the dangers that surround them.

“Himrith!” Sherman shouts from the opposite side of the cave, his voice straining against the volcanic noise. “Grab Centra! We need to move—now!” Himrith stands frozen, his legs mired in thick mud, clutching his soiled golden shoes as he drifts in a surreal trance. Recognizing his hesitation, Deandra picks up a small rock and hurls it at him with a fierce cry. “Himrith, snap out of it!” Asha quickly devises a strategy that will surely capture his attention. Her voice slices through the chaos with urgency. “Your shoes!” she shouts. “You’re going to ruin your shoes!” A jolt of clarity surges through Himrith. He turns his gaze toward the opening, where his friends beckon him with fierce determination. Glancing down at his shoes and then at Centra, still perched on the rock, scolding the mud creeping around her, he mutters, “How dare you? Wait until I tell my older brothers, just wait.” The mud bubbles as if it responds to her outrage. With renewed resolve, Himrith scoops Centra into his arms. Her small frame feels remarkably light as the mud clings tenaciously to his legs. Centra buries her face in his shoulder, eyes shut tight. Gritting his teeth, Himrith wades through the suffocating muck, each step forward a monumental effort as the earth threatens to swallow them whole. Behind them, toxic mist and boiling rain surge toward them. Suddenly, the massive rock doors that allowed them entrance begin to shift ominously shut. The group shouts at Himrith, frantically, “Move faster! The doors are closing!” They wave their arms in desperation. With unyielding determination, Himrith fights against the thick muck, pushing forward. The mud continues to rise, merging with the noxious mist and boiling rain, almost upon them. Himrith, finally, reaches the edge of the staircase. He hands Centra up to the group. The stone doors nearly close, causing a panic to surge within the group. They rally around Himrith, desperate to free him from the mud’s grasp. With seconds to spare, Rufus, fueled by pure strength, claps his hands together and blows into them a mighty breath, drying his grip. Drawing in a deep breath, he wraps his arms around Himrith’s waist, pulling him with all his might, as if he’s trying to yank a stubborn root from the earth. Almost out, the group rallies around Rufus, helping him with one last heave. Using a titanic effort, all pull at the same time. The mud releases its grip. “Capunk!” the group screams as they tumble backward in a heap, finally freeing Himrith from the clutches of the stubborn mud.

A sliver of an opening remains between the massive doors. A flash of white darts through the narrow gap. It is the white sparrow, slightly ruffled, flying above their heads before landing gracefully on Asha’s shoulder. Completely drained, Asha lies on the ground and manages to say in a weary voice, “Hi, little friend. Glad you made it. Looks like you had a rough time too. Are you OK?” The sparrow, disheveled and missing feathers, begins chirping aggressively and points a small white wing at Himrith. Deandra, also exhausted and taking deep breaths, turns to Asha. “What do you think the sparrow is trying to tell us?” Asha, her face tightening in frustration, reaches into her pocket and pulls out the white feather, giving Himrith a stink eye. The group turns their attention to him, and with a sheepish grin filled with guilt, Himrith retorts, “Don’t look at me. I’m the victim here! Big Hands over there stretched me two inches taller. Cut me some slack, will ya!”

Chapter 20

The torch of darkness

A deafening roar echoes as the enormous stone doors seal shut. Suddenly, a torch flares to life, illuminating the upper staircase, as if beckoning them to follow it. The flickering light off the torch casts dancing shadows across their faces. Exhausted yet determined, they lie breathless on the cool white marble staircase. Asha speaks up, her voice steady despite her exhaustion, “Is everybody OK?” They all respond in unison, “Yes.” Everyone except Himrith, who is preoccupied with cleaning his precious shoes. Centra nudges him, and he begrudgingly nods in acknowledgment. Rufus stands up, adjusts his hat, and peers up into the waiting darkness. “What we do now?” he asks. Sherman’s reply is straightforward: “We climb.” Faced with no other option and no way back, they begin their ascent up the golden marble staircase. Torches light up one by one to illuminate their path, as if recognizing their presence. The flames flicker eagerly but sputter out as they walk by, leaving them confronted by the ominous unknown of what lies ahead. Even the white sparrow, perched comfortably on Asha’s shoulder, does not dare fly up into the darkness. Higher and higher they climb, spiraling upward with purpose. The journey takes them higher into the mountain’s depths; the walls turn cold, and the temperature drops sharply. They are nearing the snow-capped heights of the Mountain of the Moon. The rails of the staircase feel frigid against their hands; they can barely touch them without feeling a cold surge run through their bodies. “Let’s huddle together as close as possible,” Asha urges. “Our body heat will keep us warm.” Even the white sparrow can barely flap her wings against the bitter cold, nuzzling deeper into Asha’s shoulder.

Chapter 21

Light Springs Eternal

Finally a flicker of hope appears above them—a light, faint yet resolute, shining in the distance. Deandra calls out, her breath forming frozen smoke, “Look above us! I see light!” With renewed determination, they quicken their pace, knowing that they can’t withstand the freezing grip of the cold much longer. Daylight poured in, revealing a doorway atop their winding imprisonment. Driven by adrenaline, they push themselves to reach the summit. Even if what lies before them is a frozen wasteland, at least they’d be in the warmth of the sun. Their efforts of journey paid off, as the light floods their vision,hooding their eyes with their hands, a scene beyond their wildest dreams unveils before them.

A stunning landscape of statues and monuments of the Gods dots the horizon. Fruit trees of every known and unknown variety scattered everywhere. The sound of fresh water coursing through fountains, creating a soothing musical symphony along with the joyous melodies of songbirds. Sherman broke the silence of their momentary awe, his voice weak, yet firm, “this is my friends… is the playground of the gods.”

Chapter 22

The healing

As the group steps into the open air, they are enveloped by the warm embrace of the sun. The perfect climate refreshes them as they shake off the frigid air they left behind. The landscape before them stretches endlessly, a breathtaking panorama framed by the majestic, snow-capped mountains of the moon. One could imagine this place to be a secret garden—boundless yet isolated—featuring bleached white stone pavers that mark three meandering paths leading into the unknown. Each stone paver is adorned with tufts of grass, creating a patchwork of vibrant green between the joints. With a mix of curiosity and apprehension, they step onto the stone walkway.

Scattering in different directions, the stones beneath their feet begin to glow with a pure white light. The light penetrates their bodies, reaching into their very souls and projecting distorted, shadowy images of themselves onto the ground where they stand. These troubling images instantly blink away, absorbing something from within them, then releasing it upward into the atmosphere.

“You know, I actually feel great!” Deandra belts out a big smile

“I can’t explain this feeling . I thought this journey would leave me wiped out. So… where to now? Are there any suggestions?” Asher gazes down at the varying paths, squinting in an effort to focus, yet everything remains a blur. With a frustrating blink, she removes her glasses, rubs her eyes, and meticulously cleans them, using the bottom of her address. While cleaning her glasses she looks down, past glasses onto the ground. The world sharpens into focus. Each blade of grass becomes clear. She can see even the tiniest of ants marching in between the blades fulfilling their daily chores. One of the ants is marching along, carrying a large piece of food. Caught sight of a curious stranger watching him with intense interest. Turning to his companion, his antennae twitching with annoyance, “What’s with the staring? Can you believe how nosy they are?” His friend, a sturdy ant with a gravelly voice, replies, “I just hope they watch where they’re going.” Lagging a bit behind, a chubby ant puffs out his cheeks, sweat beading on his brow as he struggles against the weight of his load, “Honestly, the last thing I need is to get stepped on. This food is heavier than it looks, and I’ve been toting it around all day!” The first ant retards, “Stop complaining! We’re ants,this is what we do!” With that, the trio quickens their pace, their tiny legs scurrying forward into a shadowy patch of grass. Asha puts her glasses on, then quickly pulls them off. Discovering that she could see better without them. It was as if a veil had been lifted; She looked up into the distance, and the entire Horizon was now clear. She can even see the furthest tree, full of colorful birds, happily singing, perched on various branches. Looking up at the sky, into clouds, she can see the eagle soaring, bathing in the sunshine. Stunned, she breathes out, “extraordinary”. Himrith calls out, glancing at the group. “Hold up! We need to check on Centra’s ankle. Maybe a little break is in order?” Leaning against him, Centra shifts her weight. Tentatively rolled her ankle, a beaming smile lights up her face. “This is incredible! I don’t feel any pain!” Astonished, she reaches down to inspect it. Gasping, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Look at my nails! She calls out to everyone, waving her hand in the air, they’ve grown back!” Deandra reaches out to take Centra’s hand, getting a closer look at this unexplainable development. Usually, Deandra would wince at the slightest movement due to the bruises on her side, but this time felt different. She took a moment to stretch, lifting her arm above her head, gingerly touching her side with her other hand. A wave of amazement washes over her, “All my bruises are gone!” Her excitement was contagious. Rufus reaches up inquisitively to feel the lump on his head, “lump gone! No pain!” Asha, ready to reveal her incredible change, declares, “and I don’t need glasses anymore! My vision is perfect.” Her enthusiasm going, she tells Rufus, “Rufus, take the patch off your eye!” Rufus hesitates and looks around at the whole group, slowly raising his hand to lift the black patch. At first, he keeps his eye tightly shut, then opens it gradually, a burst of joy, he flings the patch aside, shouting,“Me see! Me see everything!” In his exuberance, he hurls his arms out from his side hitting a nearby monument, sending it crashing to the ground, in a cloud of dust. Sherman, with a firm step in his stride, walks over to Rufus to examine his eye. “Look, Sherman!” Deandra shouts, pointing at his legs, “You’re not limping anymore!” Sherman paused, skepticism written all over his face. “My leg!” He burst out in surprise, “I can’t believe it!” He begins to march in circles, kicking up his heels in sheer exhilaration. “When I was a kid, I fell out of a tree and broke my leg in three places. I’ve lived with the pain for so long I don’t know what it’s like to be without it.

It’s a miracle and it has something to do with this place!” Asha turns to Himrith, inquiring, “What about you? How do you feel?” Himrith sighed lightly, “I feel fine, but… a little sad.” “Why?” Deandra asked, genuinely curious.“My shoes,” his tone melancholy, “They’re broken and torn, and I don’t think I can fix them. They were never meant for this kind of safari hike.” Everyone chuckles, not at him, but with him, a moment of shared laughter. Asha steps forward, placing her hand on his shoulder, “Don’t worry Himrith, I promise I’ll help you fix them.” Together, the group nods in solidarity, offering their support. As the clouds part, a divine presence is felt by them all. Someone or something was watching over them.

Looking down at them, spirit god Jordan whispers to Goddess Irimith, “You chose wisely, they’re starting to work together, as a team.

Chapter 23

With a click of his heels

With a surge of newfound energy, Deandra stands atop a stone pedestal, her eyes scanning the vast expanse before her. An electrifying thrill courses through her veins. She looks at Sherman, “So, which way do we go?”

Sherman, snaps his heels together on the stone path, sporting a grin of contentment. “We have three intriguing choices! Why not break up into pairs, and explore them all?”

“Hold on,” Asha interjectes, viewing the Horizon, her gaze sharp and focused . “Splitting up could be risky. I propose we take the center path; there’s a Grand domed temple just ahead!” Everyone squints, their eyes trying to see what Asha sees, but can’t, the only thing they see in the distance is a shimmering mirage.

“Wait, ” Sherman, eyebrows raise in genuine curiosity, “you can actually see that far?”

“Absolutely!” Asha assures him, her confidence, “down the other two paths, are just a collection of monuments and statues—beautiful, yes, but ultimately inconsequential.”

Sherman chuckles, impressed, “What an elaborate use of words, Asha!

Your vocabulary is expanding, and so is your vision.”

Asha’s blushes, her cheeks beet red. Attempting to take the spotlight off herself, she glances off at her feather companion who is perching comfortably on her shoulder. “What path do you think we should take, little friend.

The white sparrow fluffes up, shakes its tail, turning itself towards its destination. Pushing off of Asher’s shoulder, it flaps its wings, taking flight down the Central path, just as Asha had suggested.

“Alright, there’s our answer!” Asha declares, a sparkle in her eyes. Sherman nods, “OK,”a ready smile spreads across his face, “I must admit, that little sparrow hasn’t steered us wrong yet.

The group turns themselves towards the horizon, steps onto the middle path and moves confidently in the direction of the sparrow. Wondering to themselves, “what other marvels await us in this magical place!”

Chapter 24

A walk in the garden

The path was lined with all types of edible fruit, from vines full of ripe grapes, to every variety of apple, peach trees, figs, pears, oranges, lemons, bananas, and more, all ripe for picking. In other words, every kind of edible delight that one could imagine. Rufus cannot be happier as he strolls down the path, grabbing an apple and practically swallowing it with one bite. Asha whispers to Sherman, “He sure likes apples.” Rufus overhears her comment, and responds with a mouthful of apple and a big broad smile, “Favorite,” reaching out to pick another ripe apple from the next tree. Getting closer to the destination, Deandra’s eyes fill with wonderment as a magnificent temple comes into view. “Look ahead!” she shouts, her excitement bubbling over. “It’s enormous,a grand dome temple, just like Asha said!” She dashes ahead, momentarily distracted by a glimmering sight off to the side that piques her interest. In an open area she spots a fountain with a statue of a warrior in the middle. But what truly fascinates her are the racks surrounding it, filled with an array of defense weapons. This collection is far superior to what they had encountered in the cave, having racks full of everything she had ever dreamed of. In the far-left corner, in the open area near the temple there is a forge, waiting for a blacksmith’s steady hand. Soon, the rest of the group joins her. Their eyes grow wide with awe as they watch Deandra expertly handling one of the new weapons. “Looks like you’ve found your second home,” Sherman remarks, slightly teasing her.

Deandra gracefully swings a double-edged metal spear over her head, Settling into a battle-ready stance. She playfully affirms, “Who could ask for anything more?” Rufus is immediately drawn to the forge, heading over to examine it. He looks into the heart of the forge. The flames flicking with amber intensity yet, curiously offers no discomforting heat. Rufus enthusiastically gestures at the forging tools, hanging from the side of the hearth. His powerful fingers squeezing in his palms.

Yearning to create, he shouts

“I can make, what needed!”

With a single-minded grip, he hoists the hefty hammer high above his head, its metallic surface glinting in the golden glow of the forge. In one swift motion, he brought it crashing down onto the iron anvil beside him. A spectacular burst of sparks erupted into the air, momentarily blinding everyone. The thunderous clang of the hammer meets the anvil, reverberating through the ground, sending a shockwave so powerful that it feels as if the earth itself is trembling. This causes fruits to fall and tumble from nearby trees, while startling birds erupt into the sky, flapping their wings in a frenzy, as if nature itself was responding to the symphony of the earth’s sound and fury.

The group had never witnessed such a display of power. Centra, sensing a different kind of magic, drawing her to wander down another path. She comes upon an expensive pool of glistening tranquil water.

With a statue of a celestial maiden cradling a basket of fruit, embedded in a solid white marble wall, a gentle stream flowing from it. Centra sits down on a stone bench, gazing into the pool, admiring her reflection. Sherman quietly approaches from behind, his image blending with hers in the water. Noticing him she utters, “Such a beautiful place; one could just live here forever.” Sherman adds, “ this place might inspire one to fall in love.” Centra looks back down the path, seeing Himrith, who is awkwardly attempting to spin a wooden spear, like Deandra. Instead,he spins out of control, thumping his knee, hopping on one foot. Centra, avidly watching Himrith, agrees with Sherman, softly, sighing, her voice dreaming, “One could indeed fall in love in such a place.”

With a touch of jealousy in his voice, Sherman continues, there’s more to love than just external beauty, Centra sighs, again admiring Himrith with loving eyes, as he clumsily trips over a rock.

Yes, so they tell me, she replies.

Right then, Asha’s enthusiastic call rings out loudly, “Everybody, come! The entrance to the temple is just ahead. We should go!”

Chapter 25

The Entrance

They approach the domed temple, its grandeur takes their breath away. Towering above them, the temple is far larger than they ever could have imagined. They ascending up three steps leads to a wide pillared platform, where a massive pair of wooden doors loom up, adorned with an intriguing symbol; a circle bisected by a line, intricately carved into the face of the wooden doors from one door over to the other. Sherman felt a rush of exhilaration. He pulls out the parchment he had been carrying in his pocket. “This is it! The same symbol I discovered on the wall of the cave! He walks over, to run his fingers over the symbol. “I don’t know its meaning yet, but it’s a sign from the gods… what I do know, this is the place we were meant to find.” Himrith, standing closest to the doors, steps to the side. He does not want to be the first one to enter. So, he looks over at Deandra. With a I dare you gesture with his hand, “Warrior girls first.” Deandra smirks, strutting past him.
Pressing her hands against one of the doors she begins to push, but the door doesn’t budge. She tries again,but this time she puts her shoulder into it with more force. Rigid and unmovable, the door snubs her attempt.

Rufus sees Deandra struggling and politely gestures for her to step aside.

He approaches the imposing doors, his hand hovering over the weathered wood as he assesses its density. He stepped back for a moment, shaking off any lingering doubt.

A fire of purpose in his eyes, he claps his hands together. The sharp sound of his clap vibrates through the air of the pillared porch.

Then, cupping his hands, he blew into them to ignite their warmth. Sensing the gravity of the moment.

The others step aside, their gazes fix on him.

He places his palms firmly against the thick doors, connecting celestially with the wooden monoliths. Leaning in he concentrates with all his might, the tension grows among the group, who fall silent, holding their collective breath. Rufus’s face twists in intensity, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he pushes forward with relentless resolve. Despite his efforts, the ancient doors remain immovable. Determined not to give up.

He thrust forward with the last ounces of his strength. Using such incredible force, his arms shake under the strain.

Just as his body is on the brink of collapse, the ancient wood creaks and groans—a haunting sound of resistance—as it gradually yields to his efforts.

With that final surge of strength, the doors crack open just enough to reveal a sliver of what lay beyond. The group rallies around him, erupting in a chorus of cheers. Rufus staggers back, falling against one of the granite pillars, sinking to a sitting position, breathing deeply in a trance of exhaustion.

Asha, her eyes bright with admiration, fetches him a cup of water, while Himrith gently dabs the sweat from Rufus’s brow with a handkerchief that Centra had thoughtfully given him. Rufus lay silent, unable to speak. Himrith adds his two cents, “Maybe we should’ve checked if there was a back door.”

Chapter 26

A breath of awe.

While everyone is focusing on Rufus, Deandra, feeling curious, decides to peek through the small gap between the doors. Unsure if she can fit, her excitement builds her desire to explore. She squeezes her head through the tiny opening, using her body and hands to try to push the doors apart a little more, but they won’t budge. Looking up, she’s astonished by what she sees. Wiggling back out of the tight space, she calls out to the group, “Come on, guys! You’re not gonna believe this!” Now outside the doors, she musters all her strength to try to open them.

One by one, the group gathers around her, helping to push the doors forward. The doors begin to move slowly until Rufus appears, looking like his old self. He steps forward and pushes the doors the rest of the way open.

With the sun behind them, their shadows stretch across the threshold of the entrance. “I’ve never encountered anything like this!” Asha breathes in awe. Deandra nods vigorously in agreement, “Me neither!” Meanwhile, Centra marvels, “They certainly don’t have anything like this back home.”

“I like it,” Rufus remarks simply, his eyes sparkling with delight. Himrith furrows his brow in thought and ponders aloud, “I wonder if they have anything to clean my shoes.”

Sherman, utterly captivated, lets out a joyful shout, “It’s a museum!”

Chapter 27

Tribal walk

The interior of the temple is a breathtaking display of African artifacts from various tribes, woven together through the hands of time—an extraordinary tribute to their ancestors’ legacies.‘?

Spreading out, across the white marble floors.

They venture deep into the heart of this historical museum; They find themselves lost in their own world, examining the handmade art, clothing, masks, statues, and artifacts.

Two wings stretch out on either side, leading to different chambers, but what captivates their attention is the magnificent grand staircase rising towards a platform that overlooks the gallery below. At the summit, a smaller set of double doors beckones them. Deandra, her eyes sparkling with delight, having recognized certain tribal artifacts, “Look! I found my tribe—the history of the Masai Warriors! These are my people!” Hearing that,inspires the rest of the group to track their ancestry. Sherman, his hands, class behind his back, wanders slowly through the great hall, studying the various exhibits

of African history.

“Truly magnificent! But something is missing…” he thought to himself, “Perhaps there should be a grand fountain in the center of this great hall,” envisioning a vibrant scene in his mind.

Centra calls out to Himrith, excited to share her discovery.

“I found them! I found my tribe!”

Himrith ignoring the bold sign that reads. Do Not Touch Drums,”steps up onto the exhibit platform, engrossing himself with a colorful set of tribal drums. Tapping on each one, he taps on them, listening closely to each one of their timbers. Picking up the drum that produces the best tone and strikes it firmly, enjoying the resident sound as it echoes through the hall. At that moment, forming clouds appear above Himrith’s head, revealing two grim-faced spirit gods, watching his deliberate infraction of the sign displayed. The first Spirit God comments,“This guy doesn’t know how to read, does he?” The second saying, “Not him again; the first spirit God narrows her eyes, “ I say it’s time to teach him a little lesson.” Just as Himrith prepared to unleash a song, the leather strap that secures the skin to the drum, snaps, whipping back like a broken rubber band, hitting him directly on his tongue,and his bottom lip.

With a loud yelp, he screams and drops the drum. Both gods wince as the strap delivers their justice.

“Wow, that’s gotta hurt.” in pain and humiliated Himrith glances around to see if anybody was watching. Fortunately, everyone else is too occupied with exploring their own tribes. He picks up the broken drum and casually tuck it into the corner behind the others. Stepping off the platform, he looks around one last time,giving a dirty look at the sign. Composing himself he walks over to Centra, rubbing his smarting lip.

“Look Himrith,” her voice filled with childish delight, “these are my people,” she grabs his arm, to pull him close to show him her exhibit,

“I recognize them!” Himrith nods with support. She continues, “I was a bit of an outcast, you know.I was an ugly duckling of my tribe.” the memory fills her chest with a sigh.

I was made fun of as a kid. If only I was perfect like them. Himrith Hirth glanced up at her exhibitions.

Chapter 28

A clown of a different color

Asha stands in the heart of her exhibit hall, captivated by the rich history of her tribal ancestry that weaves together her past and present. For countless generations, her people have cherished the animal kingdom, dedicating themselves to its preservation. In her quest for understanding her roots, Asha uncovers a startling truth: she is a descendant of the spirit god who breathed life into the world of animals.

As the group’s tour comes to an end, they gather in the center of the great hall. Each member is struck by a sense of wonder, as they are unsure of how to articulate their experience.

Asha speaks first, “It’s odd, isn’t it. There aren’t any other displays here except our own tribes.”

Sherman agrees, “I’ve also observed that very fact myself.”

Centra’s voice is hesitant yet filled with pride. “I don’t want to sound boastful, but I’ve traced back my history, and I am proud to say that I am a direct descendant of one of the gods.”

Deandra, her enthusiasm infectious, “Me too!”

Sherman, intrigued, responds, “Fascinating.”

Asha presses on, clarifying her sense of what she thinks may be unfolding. “It seems each of us carries the blood of a specific deity.”

Deandra shares, “I learned that I’m linked to Archidamus, the warrior goddess known for her fearlessness and need to conquer.”

Deandra looks over at Rufus, “How about you, Rufus, what did you find?”

Rufus straightens up with an air of confidence. “I come from Herculon…” Lifting his fist hands above his head, “Mighty God!” He slams them onto the marble polished floor, sending tremors through it, “…strongest God!!”

Deandra smirks playfully, “That figures.”

Centra, still brimming with eagerness to share, “And I’m linked to the god Bunadamas, the wind of change! She would clear the lands, create valleys, open streams with a breath of her lungs.”

Deandra says, “Powerful stuff.”

Centra, with inspiration in her voice, “You think?”

Sherman asks, “How about you, Asha?” Her demeanor is angelic; she speaks softly. “I am a direct descendant of Goddess Irimith.”

A moment of silence envelops the group. Centra says, “Wow.” Deandra places her hand on Asha’s shoulder, her smile radiant. “I knew there was something special about you.”

Sherman bows his head in respect. “The Goddess Irimith… The Blood of Kings, it’s an honor.”

Asha, forever humble, replies, “Thank you, but what about you, Sherman? What have you discovered?”

Sherman places his hand over his heart, accepting her request. “After researching my family history, I found that my lineage traces back to Economistus, the spirit king—essentially the father of all shamans,Renowned for his wisdom and prophetic gifts.”

The celebration of their incredible heritages echoes in the hall, but amidst the joy, one member stands apart. Centra is the first to notice. “Where’s Himrith?”

Himrith lingers, nursing a swollen lip—a shadow of solitude in all this excitement. Centra waves him over. “What are you doing there all by yourself? Come on, join us!”

With reluctance, he shuffles over, one hand in his pocket and the other covering his hurt lip. Centra leans toward the group. “He could totally be a descendant of a king; that’s why he’s acting shy.”

Deandra gasps, “Shy? Himrith? That’ll be the day!”

Asha interjects kindly, “He might just be a descendant of Herrackety, the spirit god of entertainment.”

Rufus nods in agreement.

Himrith finally steps into the circle, glancing at the group. “Okay, what’s next? Where do we go?”

Deandra encourages him, “Come on, Himrith. What god do you represent? We’re all so curious!”

In a voice barely above a whisper, Himrith replies, “Um, my ancestor isn’t very exciting—it goes way back.”

Centra wraps her arms around him in support. “Don’t hold back, Himrith. Just tell us!”

“Fine, if you insist,” Himrith mutters under his breath. Sherman urges him, “Speak louder! We can’t hear you.”

With a sudden burst of defiance, Himrith shouts, “The god Assclown!”

Sherman raises an eyebrow and laughs slightly. “Assclown? I don’t think I’ve heard of that god. How do you spell it?”

Deandra jumps in gleefully, spelling it out, “A, S, S, C, L, O, W, N!”

Sherman chuckles. “Doesn’t that spell ‘ass clown’?”

Himrith grimaces. “Well, not really. Phonetically, you’re saying it wrong.”

Asha adds, “He’s the god of jokers. He used to go from temple to temple to entertain the gods with his donkey.” Everyone tries to contain their laughter. Himrith hangs his head low.

Centra coddles him immediately. “That’s not so bad! He makes people smile.”

Himrith replies, “He’s a clown that rides around on an ass. What could we possibly have in common?”

Deandra whispers to Rufus, raising her eyebrows in mock innocence. “I see some similarities.”

With a hint of sadness in his voice, Himrith replies, “I’m a performer, not a clown.”

The group draws closer, sensing his discomfort. Deandra, now feeling guilty, softens. “Don’t worry, Himrith. We’re your family now.”

Asha adds with conviction, “What do the gods really know? We’re all here for a reason. You’ll find your purpose.”

Even the little white sparrow perched on Asha’s shoulder seems to echo her sentiments. Asha continues, “We may come from different backgrounds—different tribes, colors, and beliefs. Some of us are tall, some short, but none of us are perfect. We are all just people, united in our journey together.”

Just then, a strange creaking sound fills the hall. Deandra’s voice is barely above a whisper as she asks, “Did you hear that?”

Sherman gestures with his head. “I think it’s the doors at the top of the grand staircase.” Sherman makes his way to the bottom of the staircase and looks up. Taken aback by what he sees, he says, “But now, they seem to be slightly open.”

Centra asks, “So you’re saying those doors were closed when we first got here?”

Sherman replies, “Yes. I studied this whole place when we arrived and those doors were definitely closed.”

With an uneasy expression, Centra says, “Creepy.”

Asha swallows hard, feeling a nervous twinge. She remarks, “I guess it’s an invitation. Whatever we were brought here to do—or to meet—it’s probably waiting for us up there.” They all nervously look up at the doors at the top of the grand staircase, which seem to beckon them to enter.

Chapter 29

Pulse of Wisdom

Each member of the group leans on one another as they ascend the mysterious marble staircase, uncertain of what awaits them and what secrets lie beyond the looming doors. Asha notices Himrith was not in his usual spot next to Centra. He is lagging behind,and covering his mouth . Asha steps to the side to wait for Himrith. Himrith, are you OK? I’m right here, we could go in together. Himrith, still covering his mouth, says,“no, it’s not that.” Asha continues to pry, “Then why are you covering your mouth.” Himrith lowers his hand, showing her his oversized, swollen lip.

Asha is shocked by the sight of it. Putting her hand over her mouth, says, “oh!! How did that happen? Himrith replies with a lisp, “I’m having a badth thay.”

Sherman takes the initiative to step forward,and pushes the doors open the rest of the way.

What lay before them would be etched in their memories forever; this was their divine judgment, their destiny, the end of their quest and the beginning of their new life. The dome room unfolded like a dream—a vision beyond words. A pleasant aroma of exotic flowers fills the air, both intoxicating and grounding. The dome soars upward, culminating in a central opening that reveals the twilight sky. The sun, dipping low, allows the moon of the thirteenth lunar month to unfold, promising to illuminate the room with its silvery blue glow.

A walkway makes its way around the circular dome, lined by a limestone balustrade. Looking around, they marvel at the oversize golden masks and artifacts shimmering against the setting sun, hanging on the spherical wall. Various areas of the ancient temple dome display bookcases with wooden doors, each holding untold secrets. A platform extended off the walkway into the center of the dome, accessible only from the opposite side of the doors. In the center of the extension, a circular platform with a golden pedestal stands. The pedestal is perfectly aligned with the swirling pool of water below it and the open dome above.

The pool spins like a magical engine, beyond words, beyond thought, the giver of life, the gatekeeper of time,a reflection of the gods. In all its celestial wonders Sherman looks over the edge of the balcony at the swirling pool below. He let out a triumphantly shout, “This is it! This is the origin of the Kinshasa River—we’ve found it! The prophecy of the river starts here.” The dome echoes with his exhilaration, blending in with the faint whispers of the spirit realm. Facing the dome’s center, the group spreads themselves evenly around the circular walkway. Compelled by a force beyond their consciousness, they stand silent, as the swirling water pool below begins to increase in speed. The rapid movement of the pool splashes hard against its containment, constructing a vortex of energy that slowly spirals upwards. “Something is happening,” Asha cries out. “We should all be prepared.” Himrith blurts out nervously, “Prepared for what?”

By some magical force, the golden masks that lay behind them begin to waver, and transform into each one’s likenesses. Centra calls out, “I feel funny. I’m not sure if I like it.”

As the spinning water below grows increasingly louder, it creates a powerful wind tunnel. Trying to steady themselves, they all cling to the balcony railing. Himrith, standing closer to the entrance, begins to shift his way toward the open door. With a loud crack, the door slams shut.

“I’m afraid,” Centra cries out. Rufus’s bellowing voice resonates through the wind, “me feel strange.” The full moon continues to reach its final position in the night sky, it fills the dome room with shadowy rays of blue moonlight. They stared at each other, unsure of what might come next, but a quiet tension between them hinted that something extraordinary was on the verge of unfolding.

They felt a powerful surge of energy rising up through their feet and spreading throughout their bodies. This vibrant energy coursed through them, filling them with an electrifying warmth. It was as if the very ground beneath them were alive, awakening a thrilling pulse that radiated through every limb, and ignited a fire of intoxicating exhilaration within them.

Suddenly, from the top of the dome opening, a beam of light shoots down from the heavens, landing directly on the pedestal.

The sound was deafening, and the light overwhelming. They raise their hands to shield their eyes.

Sherman yells out, “It’s the line!” he points to the top of the dome. “It’s the line attached to the circle of the moon. This is the sign. This is the prophecy, come true. We are the chosen ones.”

Asha sinks to her knees, staggered by the moment. The white sparrow, sharing in the strange events, lifts from her shoulder, soaring into the chaotic unknown. Fear tightens her chest as she strains to follow its flight. Then, through her blurred vision, she sees something impossible: the sparrow, wrapped in a shimmering veil of light, begins to transform—like the branches of a tree passing through the seasons of time. Slowly, its fragile form becomes a majestic falcon, flapping its powerful wings for the first time.

Suddenly, the blinding light erupts, overwhelming them without warning. A sonic boom shatters the air as something plummets through the light, crashing onto the pedestal with a deafening roar. A shockwave explodes outward, throwing everyone into unconsciousness. Then, just as quickly, the light collapses into darkness. And at the heart of the dome temple, on the golden pedestal, rests a radiant crystal, about the size of an apple, softly glowing, pulsing with the steady heartbeat like the birth of a new life.

Chapter 30

The Sign.

(Introducing the Auralite Crystal)

Hours before the celestial moon graced the temple with its brilliance, a palpable tension filled the air within the Valley of the Kings. The tribes, steeped in ancient traditions, eagerly awaited the arrival of the thirteen lunar month. The moon being cradled in the snow cap peaks of the Mountain of the Moon was revered as a harbinger of good fortune and fertility. Illuminating the darkness with its ethereal blue glow. For countless generations, pilgrims had traveled to witness this awe-inspiring cosmic display, a ritual rooted in history. As twilight descended, the jungle came alive, the symphony of the Animal howling’s rising to an extraordinary pitch, each sound echoing a sense that something remarkable was on the horizon. The people gathered, as the moon ascended into its rightful place in the sky, signaling the start of their sacred ritual. Then, without warning, a dazzling beam of light erupts from the heavens from the center of the moon, shooting down to embrace the summit. Gasps ripple through the crowd as a realization dawns on them: a power far greater than their own is at work. This divine illumination, a message from the Gods, etches itself into their collective consciousness. Suddenly, from within that blinding light, a magnificent crystal plummets toward the earth. When it strikes its destined mark, an explosion of brilliance cascades through the valley, sending shockwaves that knock many to the ground in awe. And just as quickly as it had appeared, the light vanishes, leaving only the essence of its presence. The circle formed by the moon symbolized harmony. The beam of light that shot from the sky represented balance. This unbreakable connection is recognized as a symbol of peace and unity that would resonate through the ages. This monumental day would forever be known as the Way of the Crystal, a celebration of the extraordinary moment when the divine touched the earth.

Chapter 31

Tribal wars

The light of Irimith, emanating from the Aurilite Crystal, granted the prophet spiritual gifts that empowered them to protect the gem of enlightenment. Sherman could see visions of the future in that extraordinary moment but could not predict their outcomes. His mind became a vessel of illumination, enabling him to embrace the Crystal’s wisdom and transcribe it into the written word, creating the sacred scriptures for humanity to follow.

These timeless texts spoke of the line and the circle, powerful symbols of hope, as they outlined the way of the Crystal that would guide the people through the ages.

In every tribe, a pivotal question would arise when a stranger wandered into their midst: “Do you follow the Way of the Crystal?” A positive response would result in warm acceptance; a negative one would label him a harbinger of war, leading to his swift exile.

As the years passed, the rift between brothers of humanity festered and deepened, an unsettling division that did not escape the watchful gaze of goddess Irimith. She observed the curse of the sisters beginning to take shape and could only hope that the purity of their faith would withstand the encroaching darkness. Temptation took root in the hearts of men, who grew increasingly covetous of what their brothers possessed. This discord spiraled into tribal warfare, creating a stark divide between the West and the East.

The Eastern tribes clung steadfastly to their faith, unwavering in their devotion to the Way of the Crystal. In contrast, the Western people succumbed to bitterness and distrust, allowing their belief in the divine to wither. The skies darkened, scorched by flames, as the once-lush landscapes transformed into desolate wastelands marred by conflict and bloodshed. For decades, battles raged—tribe against tribe, brother against brother, man against beast. The land became parched and barren, leaving both kingdoms and their inhabitants to suffer hunger.

Yet the East, a stronghold of peace adhering to the Crystal’s doctrine, found solace at the banks of the Kinshasa River, a life-giving source that quenched their thirst amid the drought. Meanwhile, the West, ravaged by desolation, saw its lands fracture, transforming its people into ruthless warlords. Their only means of survival lay in raiding and pillaging the villages of their neighbors, perpetuating a tragic cycle of despair.

Chapter 32

The King’s Bloodline

The masses raised their voices, calling for their leaders to end the relentless wars. Their cries did not go unanswered. Spirit King Jordan and Goddess Irimith heard their pleas, and through divine intervention, they revealed their message to the prophets.

Sherman was chosen to deliver this message to the house of Monus, the hardened warlord king of the West, known as Jabari. The message being that a union was to take place, promising a male child to be born from the warlord barbarian King, who had long been denied the joy of fatherhood.

This called for an arranged marriage between the eastern king’s cherished daughter from the house of Nuramba, Princess Ziri.

Despite Jabari’s initial skepticism toward the prophets and their promises, the Warlord King found himself willing to abandon some of his beliefs to ensure the legacy of his bloodline. The joining of these two houses was destined to spark a wave of peace, forging a new lineage that would stand the test of time. The newborn male, a beacon of hope, would unite the divided realms of the West and East, ultimately ascending to the throne as king and ushering in a long-awaited era of harmony and balance, bringing an end to the strife that had plagued their lands for too long.

Chapter 33

A Sister Trick

Jordan and Irimith were not the only ones observing the unfolding events. Far to the north, deep beneath the icy surface of the frozen wasteland known as the Mountains of the Dead, the sisters Esther and Lorraine toiled with their plans.

Centuries had passed as they lovingly nurtured their subterranean gardens, their view of the outside world obscured by a waterway above. They spied, plotted, and conjured, seeking revenge on Jordyn by attempting to destroy what they called “his pathetic creations.” Now, with recent events unfolding, they could see a glimmer of hope. Their revenge was at hand, and their moment had finally arrived.

With a sly grin and a wicked voice, Lorraine declared, “If Jordyn can bend the rules, so can we.” They devised strategies to prolong the conflict indefinitely and create an unbridgeable divide. With each evil act they committed, they slowly morphed into something far more sinister than the disciples Jordyn once cherished—each transformation twisting their forms into nightmarish reflections of their former selves.

They reveled in the chaos of war, knowing that each defeated warrior brought a fresh soul to the Mountains of the Dead to satiate their warped desires. The most tantalizing thought of all was the possibility of breaking the curse Jordyn had inflicted upon them. This would set them free to unleash their long-awaited plans that would finally unravel humanity, for their own sinister use.

The sisters meticulously observed the young princess bride, Ziri, who would pluck a fig each day from the oldest fig tree in the valley, savoring it with her morning meal. Realizing that this daily ritual could be the key to Jordyn’s undoing and their own freedom from imprisonment, the sisters seized the moment with ruthless intent. All they needed to do was brew a potion to counteract his feeble interference.

Within the whispers of ancient tombs, they discovered a recipe hidden within the demon scrolls. With a perfect blend of dark magic ingredients—some of which we prefer not to list—a dash of revenge, and a flick of the wrist, they completed the potion.

Their plan was fiendishly brilliant, meticulously crafted to perfection. They burrowed deep into the Earth of their underground lair until they found a single thread of a root—not just any root, but the root of the fig tree that Princess Ziri visited daily. This tree had been planted centuries ago by the sisters themselves.

With a single drop of their evil concoction, the thread illuminated and surged through the thicker roots. It traveled through the spiderweb of thousands of years of growth, eventually reaching the main trunk and spreading into its branches. This compelled the old tree to bear the most irresistible and hypnotic fig, one that the princess would find utterly impossible to resist.

As the spell unfurled its wicked enchantment, one fateful bite would reverse Jordyn’s intervention, transforming the male child to be born into a female. Such a change would incite the wrath of the warlord barbarian King of the West, ensuring that the fires of conflict would continue to burn.

However, the potion brewed by the sisters turned out to be too potent, resulting in the birth of not one, but two twin daughters. Princess Ziri was delighted and named one Raiten and the other Kendra. As expected, Jabari, the warlord king, felt deceived.

The Prophets had defied him, and whispers of weakness circulated among his people, igniting a storm of uncontrollable rage within him. Despite his feelings for Ziri, his heart hardened by this betrayal led him to disregard her desperate pleas, and he seized Raiten to ensure the continuation of his bloodline. With a merciless decree, he banished the princess and her unwanted twin, Kendra, back to the distant realm of the King of the East, ensuring that she would never see her daughter or him again. The houses of Monus and Nuramba had been irreparably broken.

The child named Raiten was Left to a harsh existence devoid of a mother’s love and burdened by a bitter father. She grew up hearing stories that portrayed her mother as a traitor who had cast her aside like an unwanted burden. These tales festered within her, igniting a blaze of animosity, anger, and resentment as she fought to survive in a world where only strength and ruthlessness mattered.

Under her father’s strict training, Raiten immersed herself in the brutal arts of barbarian combat and warfare. He instilled in her a cynical worldview, convincing her that the teachings of the Prophets were nothing but false promises designed to ensnare the naïve and exploit the weak. He contended that the Scriptures were not sacred laws for warriors; rather, they served as instruments leading mankind toward inevitable slaughter.

As a relentless storm brewed inside the young princess, she honed her skills, exceeding her father’s expectations.

Poised to take her place on the throne, she forged her spirit into an unyielding blade of destruction, merciless in her ambition. Under Raiten’s rule, the House of Monus became the most powerful and feared barbarian army to ever dominate the western province of the Valley of the Kings.

Yet, deep within her hardened exterior, the tender remnants of a child still longed for her mother’s touch. Meanwhile, in the east the House of Nuramba, under Kendra’s rule, would be nurtured with a gentle hand, absorbing wisdom from the laws of the scriptures and the principles of The Way of the Crystal. Her mission was to uplift her people and enhance their way of life.

Esther and Lorraine’s spell had succeeded; it irrevocably altered the course of history. The fragile balance between harmony and prosperity, symbolized by the circle and the line, was now disrupted, with the seeds of their destruction being planted throughout the world.

Chapter 34

Kendra and Raiten

Many years passed as the twin sisters grew into their royal roles, each developing different perspectives on life. Queen Kendra, bold and visionary, took her place on the throne of the eastern expanse of the enchanting lush Valley of the Kings. With foresight and a sense of purpose, she proclaimed that the land would be known as the country of Nuramba, setting the stage for a kingdom destined to flourish under her rule.

Queen Kendra believed in free will and planned to unite the tribes by utilizing their specialized skills to create a functional society. Through fair trade, the tribes would share resources: fabric makers would trade with iron forgers, ironworkers would transact with woodcarvers, farmers, and others. This approach aimed to establish a balanced diplomatic union where all could prosper. Kendra wrote into law that each tribe would be governed by an elected Chief, who would remain loyal to the Queen and her bloodline. Spiritually, they would adhere to the laws of the Scriptures and the way of the Crystal. However, Queen Kendra’s philosophies would soon face a significant threat.

A storm was gathering in the west. Word circulated among the inhabitants that a warlord had assembled an invincible army that was systematically devastating the region. Kendra and her people would not yield to the lawlessness of the West. They may not have been trained warriors, but they were prepared to fight for their land and beliefs if necessary. Although they had no idea what they would be up against.

Kendra’s sister, Queen Raiten, was that warlord. Raiten ruled the desert of the West and believed that people needed to be governed without free will. She maintained that differences should be resolved through force and without the interference of the gods. In her eyes, humankind was reckless and destined to collapse. Queen Raiten used the same symbol from the Mountains of the Moon on her battle flags, but with a line cutting all the way through the circle to signify the end of the gods and the way of the Crystal.

The final battle seemed inevitable. Kendra knew she was no match for her sister, Raiten, and her armies. Nonetheless, she intended to pursue a peaceful resolution through negotiation and arranged a meeting for both queens to convene and resolve their conflicts. A date was established, but Queen Raiten had alternative intentions. She viewed her sister as weak and saw this meeting date as an opportunity to launch a surprise attack to destroy Kendra and overthrow her kingdom.

Shaped by their childhood experiences, each sister sees the world through a distinctly different lens that would mark the way they navigated through the challenges and triumphs that awaited them.

Chapter 35

The Mysterious Two

The Prophets gazed down, observing the unfolding turmoil in the west with great concern. Urgently addressing the situation, Prophet Sherman issues a grim warning: if these events continue, the very fabric of history could come apart, plunging the world into a dark age and ushering in a new era of suffering and despair. The prophets believed rapid action was crucial to stop Queen Raiten’s evil plan for war and the inevitable bloodshed that would follow.

Determined to act, the prophets decided to try reasoning with her. Under the cloak of midnight, two mysterious figures appear in a shadowy corner outside Queen Raiten’s tribal encampment. They hope to persuade the queen to reconsider her deceptive plans to wage battle, rather than attend the mutually agreed peace conference.

Moonlight casts its eerie shadows upon the hooded figures as they silently slip into Raiten’s tent, stirring her from sleep. She sits up quickly, a dagger in hand from beneath her pillow. “Who goes there? Identify yourself, or prepare to die,” she demands.

The hooded figures step forward into the dim light, slowly pulling back their hoods. “I am Sherman, and this is Deandra. Seeing the dagger, he lifts his hand to halt her, “We come in peace.”

Raiten’s eyes immediately survey her tent for hidden figures lurking in the shadows, before asking, “How did you evade my guards and slip into my camp undetected?” Sherman replies, “We are nobody, yet everybody. Raiten arches an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips, an unpleasant floral aroma catches her senses, “You must be somebody, you bring a foul smell that no beast would carry. Deandra turns to Sherman and whispers. “I told you never to wear that scent.” Sherman, attempting to make an excuse, whispers back out of the side of his mouth, “we were going out, into foliage. It’s great for repelling insects. Deandra retorts,

“Insects! The smell is so strong you can repel a herd of charging buffaloes. Sherman replies, now you’re exaggerating. Deandre sneers, Sherman speaks under his breath, “Centra likes it.” Deandre now raises her voice slightly with crunched teeth, “Can we get on with it please.” Sherman acting aloof, “Go ahead. I’m not stopping you.”

Raiten, impatient with their disruptive bickering, “ you’ve invaded my personal space so that you can argue.

Woke me up from a deep sleep to witness your pointless squabbling. The two prophets look slightly uncomfortable.

Deandra bows her head, “we’ve come to share our wisdom, we are prophets sent by a higher power to reason with you.”

Raiten sighs with annoyance,

Oh really? And what power is that? Are you implying that I’m not reasonable? I might take that personally, you know.”

Sherman speaks up, “Reasonable maybe as only your words can reveal.”

Raiten shoots back,

“What does that mean? Are you trying to confuse me with your silly riddles of wisdom.”She shifts her body to a more defensive position, remaining at the edge of her bed, “Or are we diving into a lecture about ‘Thou shalt be good’ ‘Thou shall be bad?”

She taps the dagger against her head, saying “I know”… a sarcastic whine in her voice, “An intervention!! That’s what this is. You want me to feel sorry for my enemies and play nice-nice.”

She snickers under her breath, pointing the dagger playfully at her unwanted guests, “You think that because you are prophets that I must bend to your will. Your uninvited presence is a waste of my time.

I have read your scriptures. You have no power over me.” Before Sherman can interject, Raiten forcefully continues, “I know who you are, Sherman, prophet of wisdom, what wisdom have you ever shared except a handful of riddles with no answers.

And you Deandra, the great prophet of war. You are a prophet of a dead culture with no future!” Raiten’s words begin to cut like a knife.

Raiten jumps up out of her bed onto her feet with authority. “Your arrogance is intolerable! What war have you ever fought? What countries have you ever conquered? Tell me!!!”

Deandra does not answer. Sherman tries to speak, Raiten ignores him and sternly continues to push,“You speak of reason, I have many, you have none!!”

Deandra’s glares at Raiten, her blood begins to boil.

Sherman steps forward, his voice urgent. “Your actions have already unleashed great suffering on your own people, and now you want to extend that suffering to the people of the East.” Raiten snaps back, “I have organized them, given them purpose!” She takes a deep breath, “now I see where that smell of dead flowers is coming from. If your wisdom is as bad as your smell, then you people I’ve already lost in your attempt to reason with me.”

Sherman, condemned by her reality, absorbs her insult,and continues his plea. “This destructive path is not inevitable, there’s still time. We can find a resolution…peacefully.”

Raiten erupts with cold, mocking laughter, “Peacefully? YOU PATHETIC FOOL!!” She Fearlessly turns her back to Sherman and walks over to a table and pours herself a goblet of wine.

“I have lived through pain and suffering all my life. The only true God is the God of war, and I… am its child. I will never be turned. Your Gods are weak and sympathetic; that is their downfall. Are your beliefs superior to mine, simply because they’re different? I reject your laws! I will erase your history and everything you believe! I will rewrite your scriptures and reveal the true prophecy that I am destined to fulfill as its leader!” Deandra, overwhelmed with emotion, flares open her cloak and steps towards Raiten aggressively, “You pillage villages, burn homes, and bury the innocent. You think war is a game. I wonder how you’d fare against real warriors.” Raiten takes a sip of her wine, glancing over at her rack of weapons. “Is that a challenge? Dee…and…dra…, did I say it right? My, my, I’ve read about you,” giving her the once over. “I thought you’d be taller. I guess you can’t believe everything you read. Aren’t you too short to be a warrior?” Deandra, seething with rage, takes a fighting position. “How would you like to settle this here and now!?” With a flash of agility, Raiten throws her cup of wine at Deandra’s feet distracting her. She grabs a spear from her rack, pointing it ominously at Deandra, the sleek spearhead catches the glimmer of the dim light. Deandra goes from surprise, to eyes ablaze with defiance, “If it’s war you want, then war you shall have!” Deandra makes a quick move towards Raiten. Sherman immediately places himself in between the two angry warriors, trying to calm the storm. Raiten tests their resolve, laughing aloud. “Now, little flower, I look forward to meeting you on the battlefield. You’ll feel the sting of my spear, and trust me,” Raiten leans down and looks directly into Deandara’s eyes, “it will be slow.” Sherman realizes that Raiten is beyond reason, driven by a dark force within. He pulls his hood over his head and drags Deandara back to the shadowy corner from which they came. Raiten’s voice rings out behind them, sharp and commanding. “Barbeardus,! Guards! Seize them!” Her order echoes with authority across the camp. “Arrest the intruders!”

At the moment, her guards rush in, the mysterious visitors have already slipped away. Vanishing as quickly as they had arrived, leaving a faint tension lingering in the air including Sherman‘s distasteful smell of wet flowers.

Chapter 36

Raiten’s surprise

Queen Raiten, her regal cape billowing dramatically in the brisk morning wind, poised herself atop her beloved steed, Rebellion. Both she and her horse were covered in striking red and black armor that shimmered defiantly in the early light, a symbol of their unyielding resolve. Overhead, her banners snapped proudly in the wind, marking the dawn of a new era. Prominently displayed on her flag, was a defiant sign of the circle, with the jagged line piercing through its center, marking the end of the way of the Crystal.

Before her, an army of eager warriors stood, battle-hardened and scarred, bearing the marks of past conflicts etched into their skin and psyches. They exuded a fierce energy, a shared hunger for conquest that blazed in their eyes like fire. As they pounded their weapons rhythmically against the ground, the thunderous sound created a warlike heartbeat, an anthem of their readiness. The air buzzed with anticipation as they awaited their Queen’s command to unleash the storm of fury brewing within their souls. Their voices rose in an eerie chorus, a haunting melody mingling with their cries for blood. At that moment, Raiten felt a thrill of triumph coursing through her veins. The culmination of her long-repressed ambitions and desires, was finally within her grasp.

Meanwhile, in the valley below, Queen Kendra found herself ensnared in a treacherous scheme, blindsided by Raiten’s unexpected plan of assault. All her hopes had been pinned on the upcoming peace conference, a last-ditch effort to stave off conflict and find common ground.

Her spirit ignited by urgency hurried to gather her mismatched army; a collection of farmers, artisans and trade people, all of whom had little experience with the grim realities of warfare.

Their faces were still etched with Sleep, eyes blinking in confusion, utterly unaware of the intimate danger encroaching upon their tranquil lives.

Kendra‘s kingdom, once a thriving refuge, nestled on the edge of the sprawling rainforest, now felt like a gilded cage, with the Kinshasa River flowing restlessly at her back. The haven she had painstakingly crafted for her people and their future had become a prison, the landscape of her aspirations overshadowed by the looming threat above. The only route to potential safety lay over the ridge where Raiten and her formidable forces stood poised and eager for battle. As dread cloaked her heart and hope faded like morning mist, Kendra realized that the options for escape were dwindling rapidly, leaving her and her people trapped in a dire situation with no apparent avenue for retreat from Raiten’s ferocious surprise attack.

Chapter 37

The Battle

Queen Kendra steadies herself as she gathers her best defenders in the lower valley. The weight of the moment presses down on her; victory feels almost impossible, but every instinct urges her to continue. Yet, she takes a deep breath, fighting to suppress her trepidation, knowing her people look to her for strength. Climbing onto her loyal steed, Justice, she grips the reins with a firm yet trembling hand.

Across the valley, Raiten’s merciless warriors loom like a dark storm on the horizon, their hungry eyes glinting with anticipation, ready to unleash chaos.

Kendra’s heartache not for herself, but for the safety of her people,their future—and the plight of her misguided sister, Raiten. The distant roar of war drums echoes around her, accompanied by the thudding of spears striking the ground, creating an eerie, rhythmic melody of redemption.

Raiten raises her hand in a silent command, a signal that sets the ground quaking beneath her army’s advance. Just as the energy of the impending clash surges forward, a swirling whirlwind of dust erupts, cascading between the two factions and forming an ethereal barrier. As the haze clears, four cloaked figures emerge from the depths of the chaos, their heads bowed in stillness, like ominous shadows demanding attention. Raiten falters for an instant, a flicker of unease crossing her face as the memory of their previous encounter resurfaces. Unfazed, she pushes those thoughts aside.

“Barbearus!” she barks, her voice sharp as steel. “Take three of your best men and rid us of this nuisance. Spare the little one on the far left; my business with her is far from over.”

Barbearus, a colossus of a man with a scar tracing a menacing path down his face, nods obediently. Clad in battle gear, with red beaded bracelets adorned with black feathers around his wrists—each bead a testament to a village conquered, each feather a symbol of its fallen kingdom—he is a formidable sight. And judging by the sparse space left on his adornments, he is fast running out of conquests to claim.

His loyalty to Raiten is unshakeable, a fierce warrior forged in the fires of battle, ready to execute her will without question. With a thunderous battle cry that echoes across the valley, Barbearus charges forward, his warriors trailing closely behind, eager for blood and glory.

The warriors launch forward, spears at their ready. One hooded figure rises from stillness, meeting their charge with unexpected fluidity. With arithmetic elegance, it spins its hands in a mesmerizing circle, unleashing an intense wave of vibrating air that slams into the advancing warriors. They stumble back, their weapons clattering to the ground in a clamor of defeat.

Barbearus, confusion in his eyes, looks up to see the four enigmatic figures standing motionless, silent sentinels unaffected by the turmoil. Flustered, Barbearus rallies his warriors, orders them to retrieve their spears,and hurl their weapons at the intruders. Before the deadly spears can reach their targets, the short figure on the left springs into action. In a breathtaking display of nimbleness, it effortlessly intercepts the projectiles in mid-flight. With a flick of its wrist it, shattering the spears into a flurry of splinters,returns to its previous stance as if nothing happens.

Barbearus glances back at Queen Raiten, uncertainty etched in his face. Raiten clenches her jaw, her voice a venomous whisper: “I see my little flower has thorns. Well, I have thorns of my own.”

Raiten, Defiantly assembles her troops. “Don’t be deceived! It’s merely a trick! Those cowardly wizards are attempting to intimidate us with their childish illusions!” With a sweeping gesture, she commands her battalion archers to unleash a rain of arrows that form a dark cloud descending ominously upon the battlefield.

In that breathtaking moment, the cloaked figures shed their coverings, revealing their true forms to the astonished army. Kendra’s breath catches in her throat as recognition Dawn on her; these are the prophets from the legendary Mountains of the Moon: Asha, Deandra, Rufus, and Centra, the sacred guardians of the Auralite jewel. Their skins bear tattoos chronicling ancient tales, with a distinct emblem of a line coming from a circle , that represents a legacy intertwined with the very essence of the crystal.

Centra was adorned differently, with a delicate tattoo of two intertwined birds on her wrist, symbolizing a lost love. As Raiten’s deadly cascade of arrows descends, Centra taps into her mastery over the winds. She sends forth a mighty gust that redirects the arrows, letting them harmlessly thud into the earth before Kendra’s astonished soldiers.

Raiten, now exasperated, presses forward with the attack, letting out a thunderous yell, “Destroy them! Destroy them all!” With a battle cry, her loyal followers charge toward their enemies, fearless in their devotion to their warrior queen.

Rufus casually steps forward, positioning himself between the charging warriors and Kendra’s loyal followers. He raises his colossal fists and strikes the ground with a thunderous impact. A shockwave erupts, sending vibrations through the earth so powerful that Raiten’s army can’t maintain their balance, toppling over one after another onto the dusty battlefield. The air in front of Rufus ripples in mesmerizing waves.

Raiten’s army Halting , a silence envelops the battlefield. A sudden crackling is heard beneath their feet. The Earth starts to split open. Like a puzzle frantically rearranging itself, the crack widens into a gaping chasm. It chasm encircling Raiten’s troops, isolating them from both the prophets and Kendra’s steadfast forces.

Panic runs among the troops as they now realize they are trapped. The prophet had crippled their efforts to wage Raiten’s savage war.

Enraged, Queen Raiten vows to reclaim the battlefield. Her voice rings out, commanding her army, “Follow me!” Rebellion stirs uncomfortably; “Barbearus, get these soldiers on their feet. We will regroup at the valley’s crest, and flank them around the south corner, to maneuver around this cowardly display of wizardry.”

”Barbearus,also shaken,“yes my lady.”

Chapter 38

The Unpredicted

Yet, in his reckless haste, Sherman seemed to have overlooked a crucial truth: while he possessed the gift of foresight, the unpredictable nature of outcomes remained a mystery, even to him. The other Prophets, too, found themselves ensnared by their own emotions, a distinctly mortal trait that lingered in their immortal souls.

In their fervor, they forgot the very principle that had always guided them…the law of attraction. Their intentions, though noble, were clouded by a failure to realize that wisdom is often best expressed through restraint. Every action they took would provoke a counteraction, and each decision held the potential to alter their destiny in unimaginable ways. What they yearned for could, ironically, become the very force that would define their future.

Chapter 39

Asha’s Pride

Rufus steps aside as Asha takes his place. She looks out of the battlefield. She closes her eyes, falling into a trance. In the distance we hear the sounds of the animal kingdom as creatures rustle through the plains and the surrounding rainforest. The Earth vibrates with the pounding footsteps from over the ridge, revealing a majestic herd of elephants now blocking Raiten’s only exit. Queen Raiten and her army are surrounded; she cannot move forward due to the chasm created by Rufus, and she cannot move backward as the aggressive herd is pushing

her back.

Suddenly, the skies are filled with birds of prey, swooping down one by one to strike the barbarian warriors. The birds disorient the invaders with each attack. The barbarians swing their swords and stab with their spears but are overwhelmed and unprepared for this assault. Raiten commands her army to focus their arrows on the elephants to take them down and clear a path. However, before a single archer can draw an arrow, unstoppable rhinoceroses charge from beneath the elephants’ legs. With no mercy, they trample the archers and knock the warriors off their feet, flipping them into the air in chaotic disarray.

The battle intensifies, Raiten sees that she does not have a chance against this unorthodox sorcery.

Asha waves her hand, calling off her beast attack, and the fighting comes to a standstill.

A shadowy figure emerged between two elephants perched atop the ridge, the sun casting its dark silhouette down the slope of the valley. The true sovereign of the animal kingdom had arrived. The alpha lion let out a thunderous roar that reverberated through the valley, his thick, shaggy mane shaking in a fierce proclamation that enough was enough. Close behind him were his two adult sons, brimming with an even fiercer aggression than their father. As they descended the hill, they strode through Queen Raiten’s bewildered army, locking eyes and growling menacingly. The once-arrogant warriors recoiled in fear as the fearsome trio passed with an air of undeniable authority. The alpha came to a halt before Queen Raiten, an embodiment of power and dominance growls in a deep disturbing tone.

Rebellion startled, by the presence of the fierce lion trio, jumps uncontrollably. The pride locks eyes with Raiten and growls with a fearsome low tone, subliminally warning her to back off or face the consequences. The pride then turns and leaps over the open crevice, followed by his two sons, making their way to Asha. She kneels and embraces the majestic creature, who purrs loudly in response to her touch.

Asha stands up and extends her arms as a large falcon swoops down from the sky, gently landing on her forearm, retracting its impressive wingspan. She reaches up and strokes the falcon’s breast with affection. Asha then turns her attention to the ridge, communicating with the elephant herd to create an opening. With the prophets by her side, keeping Kendra and her people safely behind her, knowing that the animal kingdom is ready to move at her next command, Asha momentarily ignores Raiten. Instead she playfully dotes on her loving companions. Finally, she turns her focus to Raiten, who is visibly impatiently sitting on her horse. Asha looks directly into Raiten’s eyes with a stone-faced expression and says, “This… is the power you are up against… Her firm voice, devoid of emotion, “Do you wish to continue?”

Chapter 40

Queen Kendra, One People

Queen Raiten, her fury unshaken, called out to her sister, “This is not over!” She raised her spear as Rebellion reared back and neighed loudly. Kendra calls back, “We can work this out, you’re still my sister. Let’s use this opportunity as a chance for us to achieve peace.” Raiten narrows her eyes, but keeps her composure, “Peace? There will be no peace. You may have won this battle, but you have not won the war.

There will be a reckoning.”

She then points her spear directly at the prophet’s, “as for you, we will meet again.”

She commands her army to retreat, leading the way between the two colossal elephants now allowing her to pass. Only a handful of the dark queen’s most loyal followers join her, while the others lay down their weapons and stay behind, realizing that they can fight an army but cannot defeat a god. The majority of the warriors have lost faith in Raiten’s promises, and on this day, the war would finally end. The West and East would unite as one people. A sea of joyous voices rings out throughout the land, knowing that the threat of Raiten’s armies would be no more. Those warriors who chose to stay behind would seek a new and better life with Queen Kendra, if she would accept them.

Chapter 41

Raiten‘s Revenge

Time drips slowly in Raiten’s stronghold as she sits on her throne in her now empty chamber hall, her chin resting in her hand, lost in thought. She faces two significant challenges.

The first is that the prophets are formidable, and their strength cannot be matched by brute force alone. If she intends to conquer them, she must delve deeply into the spirit realm and tap into their very essence.

Unfortunately, upon her return, she felt slightly grumpy, to say the least. When the old Chancellor and his council of advisors—who had been around since her father’s reign— began their speeches about changes with more words than actions,Raiten grew impatient and decided to implement a few changes of her own. Consequently, the old Chancellor and his wise staff took a sudden leave of absence and would not be returning. Now, Raiten needed a new council, which led to her second problem.

She realized she could not rely on outdated advisors who might offer poor guidance. Then an idea struck her. She decided to enlist the aid of a shaman. Who better than a fortuneteller or a master of magic and potions to match the prophets’ power for her next strategy? She envisioned appointing the shaman as her new Chancellor, who could select his own staff, with her approval, of course.

Now, when the council convenes, it would be on a spiritual level, rather than a political one.

With this plan in mind, she would issue a decree to be delivered across every village and conquered territory, offering substantial payment in gold to any shaman powerful enough to win her favor and possibly take on the position of her new Chancellor.

The response is swift. Within days, a colorful parade of shamans arrives, each one eager to present their unique gifts and claim the queen’s favor.

They come with bells and rituals, potions, and spells.

The Shaman’s requested that they might need some volunteers to test their sorcery on so that the queen could see firsthand their magic.

The queen signals to Barbearus to fetch some volunteers from the nearby villages.

Barbearus, her unwavering captain, gathers some almost willing and some not so willing from nearby villages for experimentation. The hours that follow are filled with bizarre transformations, leaving many of the test subjects slightly altered from their original appearance. All the shamans assure the queen that the transformations are only temporary, and in a matter of days it will wear off.

Shaman number 22 stands out, proclaiming he possesses a spell that could grant Raiten an invincible army. When the spell is unleashed. Raiten is impressed, standing up from her throne.

The volunteer has towered himself up to seven feet tall, muscles glistening like steel, but when the rest of the smoke clears his arms and hands are tiny, too short to wield a weapon of any kind.

The backlog of shamans continues. One promises to turn a man into a ferocious lion, but instead, the fellow morphs into a frog. The shaman insists that kissing the frog will reveal a prince, but Raiten scoffs,“Wrong fairytale,” kicking them both out the door,

Just when hope begins to dwindle,a hunched over old man with a gnarled cane shuffles into her chamber. His cane taps on the marble walkway making an annoyingly sound as if he is doing it on purpose. Raiten narrows her eyes. “All right, old man,” she snaps, her irritation bubbling. “What grand trick do you propose? Perhaps you’ll transform a duck into a swan or a caterpillar into a butterfly?”

The old man chuckles, “I heard you got your ass whipped in the battle in the east. They say you came back with your tail between your legs.” The old man giggles again.

Barbearus, enraged, jumps to his feet, reaches for his sword, “How dare you speak to your queen like that, you insolent little dried raisin. I’ll have you boiled in oil for that remark.” Raiten holds out her hand, halting Barbearus’s forward motion.

Raiten looks at the old man up and down. “Where do you come from, old man?”

“I was born in Nuramda, the land where your sister Kendra dwells.

Raiten in response,”Oh really, what brings you here to me?”

He pulls out a pipe from his pocket, striking a match, lighting the pipe, “This way of the Crystal stuff that they force down your throat, has got too many rules. My friend and I just don’t fit in. We think of ourselves as…” he waves his hand,”freelance shamans.”

Raiten raises her brows, “Did you say your friend? Where is this friend you speak of?

The old man removes the pipe from his mouth. “We thought you would never ask.”

The old man looks around at the soldiers standing at attention beside the queen, his eyeballs rolling back into his head with skin turning gray. His pipe slips from his hand.

As his bones begin to crack and crackle. He straightens up from his hunched position, realigning his neck with a grotesque twitch. The torchlights flicker as a chilling wind blows through the tapestries hanging over the stone windows. Ghostly shadows circle the chambers, driven by the wind, turning everyone’s heads as they nervously look around behind them.

The old man, now completely possessed by the demon, surveys the room with a gaze that reveals both hunger and eagerness. It seems to search for a target among the largest and strongest soldiers, licking its lips with a greedy expression. Raiten leans forward to get a better look at this demented transformation.

The old man, under the demon’s control, swiftly turns his head and locks eyes with the Queen.

Raiten is caught off guard, falling back into her chair.

She sits up, attempting to regain her composure. “OK, OK, so you’re actually a demon. What do you call yourself?”

Its jaw unhinges and twists in a sinister motion as a dark, creepy voice escapes the old man’s mouth.

“I am the king of your ancestors, the spirit guide of your father‘s father. I am the unseen eye that sees all. The ghost of Dreams. The minister of the dead.”

Raiten clears her throat and straightens in her chair.

“That’s not really a name, and I didn’t ask for your whole family history.”

Raiten, trying to cover her uncomfortableness ,nonchalantly rubs a speck of dust from her eye. “Well, anyway.”

She looks at Barbearus. “Whoever said demons were bright? Let’s get on with it.”

The demon’s jaw drops open.

“Surrender what I crave, and eternal beauty shall be yours. Offer me what I desire, and this chamber will be bathed in gold. Present what I seek, and you’ll become the greatest queen in history.”

Raiten, unimpressed, silences the demon’s pleas.

“What you offer I already possess. If you truly have foresight, then give me what I want. Otherwise, leave my presence while I still allow your demon’s existence. I am growing impatient with these sorcerer’s games.”

Unaware of what is about to happen, Raiten looks away from the demon, extends her hand in front of her, to command her guards, “Remove this creature!”

At that moment, the demon lunges forward, grabbing Raiten‘s wrist.

A flash appears in the demon’s mind upon the touch of her skin, revealing a vision of the battlefield between Raiten and Kendra. The scene shows Raiten‘s victorious face in an intimate conquest. Raiten sits proudly on her horse, savoring the moment. Suddenly, four cloaked figures interrupt the vision. It flashes back to the previous night when intruders calling themselves prophets invaded her sleep. Now, they appear in front of her on the battlefield, followed by the humiliation of her defeat at the hands of these prophets. With only one thought in her mind—revenge.

All of the queen’s guards draw their swords and spears in a coordinated effort, rushing to defend her.

Barbearus quickly detaches the demon’s hand from Raiten’s wrist and, with a swift motion, draws his sword, knocking the demon to the ground in front of her.

He declares, “My queen, let me end this old man’s suffering. He’s delusional, and I sense evil in his words. This isn’t sorcery; it’s dark magic—witchery. Only wickedness could come from this.”

He raises his sword, ready to strike, awaiting Raiten’s signal for the execution to commence. The demon’s eyes darken to bloodshot red, as it speaks in a snake-like voice. Its jaw unhingings again, but this time with a more deformed urgent look, spattering out,

“You desire the powers of the prophets?”

Raiten, visibly shaken and almost ready to give the order, suddenly rises from her seat. Her curiosity is piqued by the demon‘s words as she considers her next move.

“OK, old man or whatever you are, you say you have something that I want and you’re willing to give it to me for a price. So hear my words.

“Behold these hands,” she holds them out, “one brings life, the other death.

If your possession is as you say,

then this old man’s body is your host.” She slowly moves towards him keeping a comfortable distance, “if something happens to it, you’d be vanquished back to your realm of Demons.

I’ll make you a proposition: if your words please me, we shall pay your price.” The soldiers stir looking anxiously at each other and then at the queen.

“If not…” She draws her sword,“You will feel the cold kiss of steel. Agreed?”

The demon growls.

Raiten presses the point of her sword against his throat. “Speak wisely, or your next breath may be your last.”

Within a father‘s chest, the scriptures lie, Use them wisely, through Providence‘s eye.

Your enemies at heaven’s gate, with pen and ink they craft their fate.

If you seek the sister’s power, you should visit the dead, in the mountain center you will find the serpent’s head.The power you seek is what they possess. In darkness of three you must sacrifice a warrior’s soul and confess.

Raiten sank back into her throne, a flood of realization washing over her. Barbearus, pay this creature what it desires and fetch my father’s chest from the old storeroom! I’ll be in my chambers. Come to me within the hour, as I need some time to think.” With a sweep of her cape, she leaves the throne room.

Barbearus eyes the demon with barely concealed disdain and asks, “Which one?” Almost instantly, the old man hunches over, morphing back into his familiar wretched form. He giggles, snatching his pipe from the floor and lighting it with a flick of his fingers. “I would take you, Barbearus, but I think the queen would not favor that choice. So I’ll choose the big one over there. He should do just fine.”

Barbearus calls out to his soldiers, spotting the unfortunate soldier selected by the old man. The soldier lets out a terrified scream, “No, not me! Please don’t let them take me!” With a somber expression, Barbearus orders the soldiers to escort him away.

Chapter 42

A demon’s tongue.

Barbearus and two soldiers drag the heavy chest into the queen’s chamber, silently speculating on what Raiten was planning.

Inside her lavish quarters, Raiten was lost in thought, seated at a yellow satin-covered table, writing on a piece of parchment. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees them come in. She motions for them to place the chest in the center of the room, continuing to concentrate until finally she dots the paper firmly with her pen. Placing it on the table she turns her attention to the chest,sitting in the center of the room.

With eager anticipation, she approaches the old wooden chest. The chest, made of oak, had blackened over time and was reinforced with brass straps on its flat top. The oversized key lock that kept it closed was attached to a sturdy metal loop, both of which had rusted over the years.

“Leave us,” she commands the soldiers. “I wish to speak with Barbearus alone.” The soldiers bow and exit the chamber, the heavy doors close with a resounding thud behind them.

“Break the lock, Barbearus,” she orders , her voice a mix of excitement and urgency.

With a swift motion, Barbearus draws his sword, spinning it expertly in his hand. He strikes the lock with the backside of the handle. Creating a spark upon impact, the lock falls onto the ground with a dull thump.

Raiten leans closer. “I’ve been deciphering the demon’s riddle. It speaks of my father’s chest, claiming it contains the Scriptures.”

How could it possibly know that? Inside this chest lies the only surviving copy of the book of scriptures in my realm.

My father banned them from every village, town, and province in our kingdom, burning all remnants before I was born. There was only one copy left, and it was locked in this chest.

“My father used to read these scriptures at night, sitting by the fire when I was young,” she murmurs, recalling that moment, hearing his solemn tone.

“Listen closely, my child. Although these divine laws were inscribed by the gods and translated by the prophets, they were meant solely for worshipers and shaman priests. To truly be a conqueror, you must follow the warrior code, and understand their pagan rituals. What do the gods know of suffering? We must know our enemies at a fundamental level to unearth their vulnerabilities, revealing their weaknesses. A Strategy of war that will ultimately lead to their defeat.”

With a longing gaze, Raiten fixes her eyes on the chest. “This chest has been opened since my father crossed into the spirit realm of great warriors.” Slowly, she lifts the lid, her breath catching her throat as she reveals her father’s battle gear, his royal weapons, and old maps and manuscripts, all neatly folded and waiting for her reverence.

With careful respect, she removes them, and lays them on the rug next to the chest.

As she is searching through her father’s things, her fingers brush against something familiar. “Barbearus,” she exclaims, “I’ve found it!” She pulls out an old book, its leather cover worn yet dignified.

This is my father‘s copy of the scriptures given to him before I was born. He never told me where he got it, but it seemed important to him even though it was not part of his beliefs. I never actually held it in my hand.

Raiten flips through the first few pages and notices an inscription. “Look, someone wrote something here. This is definitely not my father’s handwriting. It says, ‘Forever One,’ and it’s initialed, Z,N… There’s also a dry fig leaf compressed inside the page. That’s strange; I wonder why he would have put this here.”

Barbearus leans in and looks over at the book. “It appears to be written in a woman’s handwriting. Perhaps it was a gift from the lady who wrote it.” He notices something in the corner of the page and adds, “My lady, there is a date written here.”

Raiten focuses on the date. “That’s interesting; it’s the date of my birth, but one year earlier.”

Barbearus innocently questions, “Could it possibly come from someone your father was beloved to?”

“Are you suggesting it’s someone like my mother?” Raiten’s voice bursts with uncontainable rage. “That liar! That traitor! He would never keep anything of hers. She was a traitor, born from a line of traitors!” Raiten slams her fist down on the dried fig leaf resting atop the book, shattering it into three pieces as she watches it drift lazily to the floor. At the moment her fist strikes the book, the doors to the balcony suddenly burst open with a deafening crash. Both heads turn sharply, eyes fixed on the balcony through the open doors. Raiten stands her ground, defiantly. Barbearus immediately tenses, hand on his sword, ready for battle. Barbearus calls out sharply, “Show yourself.”

A chilling wind whips through the chamber, slicing through the warm sunset air with icy precision. The wind snuffs out the oil lantern. Just as tension thickens, an intruder appears—but not a mortal one.

Raiten paces around the room, her gaze darting side to side as she moves. When she returns to her original location, she’s stunned to see a ghostly apparition floating before her. Heart pounding, she steps back, knocking her pen onto the floor as her contact with the table jolts her. She gasps, “If your aim is to scare me, it won’t work.” The entity whispers, “Beware, The cave of lost souls, choose wisely .” Frustration sets into Raiten’s expression as she steadies herself: “Who are you? What does that mean, cave of lost souls? What do you want?” Then she feels a sense of peace wash over her, that this entity is not here to do her harm.

An anxious silence hangs as she awaits a reply. Suddenly, a loud knock echoes through the chamber alarming the entity. With a ghostly swirl the apparition quickly disappears. The icy air fades away, warmth returning with the dusk’s desert heat. But then, another loud knock resounds—this time clearly from behind the chamber doors.

A voice calls out, “Your Highness, I have the translation and symbols book from the old temple. Shall I leave it outside?”

Raiten and Barbearus exchange quick glances and exhale. In an instant, the oil lamp flickers to life, startling both.

Raiten blinks twice, places her hand over her chest, takes a steadying breath, and responds softly, “Yes, leave it at the door.”

Barbearus, unaware of what just transpired between Raiten and this unknown entity, resets his stance. “Nothing to worry about, Your Highness. It’s probably just a gust from the northern winds; it can be chilly. I’ll tend to the balcony doors.” As he moves toward the entrance, he adds, “And lamps sometimes go out and light themselves again—I’ve seen it happen.”

Raiten approaches the chamber doors, opens them, and picks up the ancient book of symbols and translations.

As she walks back to the chest, she notices her pen on the floor. Bending down, she sees the dried fig leaf lying beside it. Surprisingly, the leaf appears undamaged.

She picks up the dry leaf, a look of disbelief flickering across her face. She knew that when she struck it, she had destroyed it, but now, it appears, it is intact. She silently questions why but refuses to believe the obvious. Instead, she turns her gaze to Barbearus, who is securing the balcony doors. Carefully, she places the restored leaf back inside the scripture book and turns the page.

Regaining her composure she speaks,

“Demons riddle is a mystery of clues, truths and locations.

“I’ve been translating the riddle into the ancient text. I didn’t remember all the old translations so I needed the temple book of symbols to finalize my theory.

She hands the parchment that she was writing on over to Barbearus, “read the Demons riddle out loud.”

Barbearus holds the parchment up to the glimmering light, and speaks slowly.

“Within a father’s chest, the scriptures lie, Use them wisely, through Providence’s eye.”

Raiten explains,

“At first I thought the demon was merely guessing about my father‘s book of scriptures,just to prolong its host’s life, but then when it mentioned the eye, I knew there was truth within its lies.

She turns back to the chest,and continues to sift through its contents,

“The eye it refers to is the Egyptian Eye of Providence.”

The Demon was trying to prove there was truth behind its words.

“Here,” she slowly lifts a magnificent golden necklace, exquisitely fashioned within a triangle, an eye at its center, surrounded by radiant gems. “This was my father’s most cherished possession. It once belonged to Horus, son of the Egyptian goddess Isis. Together, they battled against his uncle Set to reclaim the throne of Horus’s murdered father. Horus lost his eye in that fierce battle, but through the magic of the god Thoth, it was restored. This necklace was a gift to my father for aiding in their triumph. He never showed it to anyone but me. Now, read on.”

As Barbearus squints against the flickering light, he reads,

“Your enemies at heaven’s gate, with pen and ink they craft their fate.”

Raiten reaches for the book of scriptures,

“Here he’s trying to tell us that the prophets have broken their own law.”

Her fingers racing over the pages searching for the riddle’s answer. “The demon suggests that the prophets have penned their own destinies. If I recall correctly, it’s in one of these chapters… Ah, here it is!”

“The Light of Irimith,Chapter 3, paragraph six line 18,it reads: If the chosen should ever stray from their journey, the impact of their own hand will dwell in darkness.

If they should ever stray from their journey, the impact of their own hand will dwell in darkness. By denying me my destiny and interfering with my victory, they have cast their own fate…” Her voice trails off in thought. She murmurs ,”Read on Barbearus.”

“If you seek the sister’s power, you should visit the dead, in the mountain center you will find the serpent’s head.”

Raiten flips through the pages of the scriptures. “I know this chapter. Here, Chapter 4: A Sister’s Brew.

“There is a legend about two sisters who were once gods. After falling from grace, they were banished to the frozen mountains of the north, cursed by spirit God Jordyn himself. These sisters were once revered as the gardeners of the planet, but now, in their captivity, they can never walk the Earth again.”

Barbearus spoke with trepidation, “My queen, these northern mountains are a ghostly place for the dead. All of the chieftains and warriors know the tale. The formidable mountains were once whispered to be a valiant refuge for warriors seeking sanctuary from lost battles. As the years passed, those whispers faded into silence. One by one, the warriors vanished into the icy abyss, never to be heard from again. The mountains, once a haven, transformed into what we now know as the foreboding Mountains of the Dead. Hope ignites in Raiten’s eyes. “This is where we must go. If I can find those sisters, I might be able to strike a deal. There’s something they long for—and I believe I know what it is.”

Barbearus frowns, his brow furrowed with worry. “We must be realistic. It’s like searching for a needle in a haystack. The mountainous terrains in these areas are expansive and treacherous. One could easily lose their way in this frozen wasteland. It’s fall now, and winter is approaching fast. Survival in these conditions is brutal.” Raiten listens closely to Barbearus’s words. She reaches down and picks up a set of maps that is laying on top of her father‘s uniforms. She closes the lid to the chest with a thump tossing the set on top of it, then says with authority.

“We are warriors, born of a long line of conquerors. My father crafted these maps of the valley of the Kings during the tribal wars…and he feared nothing even without a route. He crossed these mountains to reach Egypt and back.”She flips through the set, coming upon a map that says Egypt written in big black letters. She unfolds it, spreading it out flat. “My father taught me how to read these maps, and how to navigate every detail. This is written in his own hand, made when he crossed the Sahara into Egypt. It shows a broad layout of these mountains. I know that these northern mountains are vast and we could be searching for years,but if my theory is right, the demon’s riddle holds the key.”

Raiten moves to her desk, picking up a sheet of translucent silk,covered in ancient symbols. “Using the demon’s riddle, I translated them into these Nsibidi symbols, from the temple book. All I need is a few missing pieces.” She flips through the temple book, to find the symbols she needs to fill in the gaps. “Ok…I think we have it.”

Barbearus frowns, puzzled. “We have what?”

“The answer to the riddle.”

Raiten lifts her father’s map. “Hold this edge,” she says to Barbearus, “while I hold the other. Now, let’s take the edges of the silk paper with the symbols and place it on top of my father’s map. If I’m right, when we align the silk paper with my father‘s map, hold it up to the light just right, we’ll find what we are looking for.”Together they lift the map in front of the hanging lamp.

The silhouette of the map appears on the white wall in front of them as the light reflects through it. A shimmering line appears,symbol to symbol, illuminating a route from their homeland,across the east into the northwestern mountains of the dead. Raiten stands tall, excitement rushing through her. “This is where we must go. According to this route, we won’t need to scour the entire mountain area. This northwestern territory must be in the vicinity of the Sister‘s Lair. Everything the demon told us is true; we just need to follow it.” Barbearus falls silent, his worry heavy. “This territory has never been traveled; it’s uncharted. The demon may be clever, but let’s hope it doesn’t lead us into darkness.” He places the maps back on the chest and reads the last passage of the riddle: “The power you seek is what they possess. In darkness of three you must sacrifice a warrior’s soul and confess. His voice tightens with fear. “What does that mean, my queen? What will we sacrifice? What dark sorcery lies ahead? Raiten listens intently to Barberus’s concerns as she meticulously traces her father‘s map, drawing connections between symbols to unveil a new route hidden within the demon’s riddle. Her lips tighten in deep thought. “I’ve analyzed it again and again, trying to crack the code—Sacrifice, confess, in the darkness of three. I just don’t know, but what I do know is that my father never turned from a quest—and neither will I. A war cannot be won if it is never fought. I will have my vengeance.” As her words settle, a distant rumble echoes…deep and thunderous…piercing through her chambers.

“My queen, the gods awaken tonight.”

Raiten stands tall, her spirit unshaken. “I do not serve the gods! This is my world, and I intend to claim it.” A flash of lightning splits the sky, as if the heavens themselves recognize her resolve. With respect, Raiten returns her father’s belongings into the chest. “The enemy of my enemies will become my ally. Prepare my bravest warriors. We leave at dawn!”

Chapter 43

Mountains of the Dead

As the dark gloom of night falls, ominous clouds blanket the sky, threatening another wave of snowfall. Raiten and her followers huddle under animal skins, shivering by a crackling fire. Winter’s icy grip holds them fast, and many moons have passed without finding the sisters’ lair. Raiten struggles to keep moving, unsure if she and her loyal warriors can endure. The high altitude drains them; the thin air steals their breath, leaving them desperate to stay sharp.

Snow falls heavily, relentlessly. The Mountain of the Dead lives up to its name: a vast, treacherous wilderness few survive. The chill clings to them, and the dampness never lets go. They have encountered creatures in the forest, unlike any they’ve seen before—born of dark magic of a demon’s creation. This ghostly place guards secrets buried in a sorcerer’s dreams for centuries.

Her warriors grow weary, longing for home. As Raiten checks on her horse, Rebellion, loosening the saddle for the night, she wonders, “Maybe this is just another trick—maybe my belief in them was never real. If the sisters were here, we would have found them by now. Perhaps they don’t want to be found.”

Suddenly, a flash of light flickers in the distant darkness of the forest. Raiten stops, her mind racing. “Could it be a fire out there, or am I losing my grip on reality?”

Barbearus, huddled by the fire, lifts his gaze toward the direction she points. He rises, leaning against a snow-laden tree, straining to see. At first, he sees nothing—but then, a flash again. “Yes, my queen, I see it. I see it now!” Barbearus warns, “We must approach carefully. It could be an enemy trap—perhaps they have followed us, or they see us as we see them.”

Raiten nods. “Yes, Barbearus. My strategies weaken in this isolated, frozen desert. We will do as you say—we will stay in the shadows.”

With effort, Raiten and her weary warriors mount their horses and ride slowly toward the light. As they draw closer, they dismount, moving on foot, careful not to be seen. Raiten holds Rebellion’s reins tightly, pushing aside the dense, icy branches. They huddle low, inching forward, and finally, they glimpse it: a small cottage built into the towering trunk of a massive tree, its glowing light spilling from within—beckoning them to come closer.

Chapter 44

Strange Little Man

Raiten and her warriors stay hidden in the bushes, watching. The door of the little cottage suddenly flies open. A little man with a big nose and giant hands emerges, appearing quite angry as he stomps around the snow-covered ground, wobbling from side to side and mumbling under his breath. He grabs some firewood from a fresh cut wood pile, then turns to head back into the cottage.

Raiten shifts her position but accidentally steps on a branch, which cracked loudly. The little man stops in his tracks staring into the shadowy bushes that face his tree cottage. He calls out “I hear you.” Unafraid, Raiten pushes the bushes aside and steps out. She could now see the entire cottage carved into the tree, with a barn on the right and an open pen on the left that housed something resembling a pig. Inside the barn were strange-looking animals she had never seen before.

The little man asks, “Can I help you?”

Raiten steps taught him, saying, “No need to fear. We are just looking for some shelter. We will be gone in the morning.” The little man examines Raiten from head to toe and inquires, “Are you the leader?”

Raiten answers, “Yes, I am. My region name is Queen Raiten, ruler of the Western region, and these,” she gestures with her hand, soldiers are popping up one by one from behind the snow covered bushes,

“are my followers.” His eyebrows rose in surprise. “A queen?” He seems impressed, mumbling something else under his breath that no one can understand.

Raiten extends her hand in friendship. “What may I call you?”

The little man drops the firewood, and stands up straight, puffs out his chest, and places his hands on his hips. In a very military-like voice, he declares, “l am Himriph the Handsome.” He was everything but. Raiten thinks,HANDSOME? She cordially smiles, but dares not laugh, not wanting to risk being uninvited. Retracts her hand. Himriph continues to stand at attention, unmoving.

Raiten asks politely, “Okay then, Mr. Himriph the Handsome, would you like to invite me in?” Himriph, slightly embarrassed, quickly come to his senses. “Alright then, your soldiers can stay in the barn. They can tie off their horses inside; there’s water and food for the animals. I’ll bring your warriors food a little later, and they can start a fire in the small hearth in the corner.”

Raiten picks up the firewood that Himriph had dropped, tucking it under her arm. It seemed that little man’s mood had shifted from when she first saw him—he now seems genuinely delighted to see them.

Himriph turns to Raiten, “I don’t get many visitors here, as you can probably imagine.” The snow begins to fall more heavily. Raiten whispers in Rebellion’s ear,”don’t worry my love, go follow the group into the barn it will be warm and comfortable, you’ll be safe there. Raiten gestures to Barbearus to lead her into the barn,taking Rebellion’s reins Baebearus whispers, “Do you a little man can be trusted?” Raiten liens in to quietly respond, “he seems harmless, but I will be careful.”

Raiten follows Himriph, tracking their footprints in the snow as she walks. She places her spear against the tree right outside the front door, stepping into the small cottage. Everything inside was miniature, even the window next to the door. The furniture may have been small, but the cottage accommodated it actually felt cozy. A fireplace flickered with a cheerful blaze, flanked by a couple of stools. The walls were adorned with old tapestries and furs. The ceiling, formed from the tree trunk, was pitched high with scattered roots protruding down. In one corner of the room was a small bed set on a frame, topped with a table holding manuscripts. The room is filled with the sweet aroma of a bubbling black kettle of stew hanging over the fire.

Himriph gestures politely for Raiten to sit by the fire. Raiten tosses the firewood onto the pile, brushes the snow off her animal fur, and hangs her coat on a deer horn hook next to the fireplace. The bubbling kettle of stew looked appetizing, but Raiten feels apprehensive; he is an unusual character, much like the odd animals outside in the barn and in the forest. Yet, unexpectedly, she feels a twinge of sympathy for him.

Raiten pushes her cape aside, to sit down and warm her hands. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?”

Himriph scoops out some hot stew and sips it carefully. “Well, that’s a story and a half. But I’ll just tell you half.” He giggles with a slightly annoying high-pitched tone. Handing Raiten a bowl of food, he continues to say, “I was one of the original prophets. I had a disagreement with the prophet Sherman…well, maybe more than just a disagreement. Sherman put a spell on me, turned me into this, and then vanished me to this mountain. You see, Centra had a crush on me. That weasel, Sherman, was jealous. I couldn’t help it that I was too good-looking. I was just born this way.”

Raiten thinks to herself, ‘how does this little man know these prophets out here in the middle of nowhere with such familiarity? Of course, anyone who has read the scriptures would know their names. The more he speaks, the stranger his story becomes. She decides to play along. Even if he seemed a little delusional, he appears harmless enough. Besides, they needed a place to stay for the night. Raiten forces a smile. “I can see why they call you handsome.”

From that moment on, Himriph becomes much more talkative and friendly. “The curse changed me into what you see in front of you. But he didn’t get all of me. As you can see, my hands and my nose are still normal, and maybe a few other parts…”

Raiten can’t help but notice that, protruding from his upper lip, is a huge hideous mole that seems out of place on his face. Turning her focus to her empty stomach she reaches for a wooden spoon and bowl that is hanging from hooks on the fireplace mantle.

Scooping some hot stew into the bowl, she is delights in its taste, surprised that this gnomish little man can certainly cook a great stew

“So why don’t you just leave this lost place and serve them your rightful justice?”

Himriph reaches for some kindling staring into the fire. “I would if I could, but I cannot leave this place. I am bound by an invisible barrier that I cannot pass. It’s one of Sherman’s spells; he created it himself, so he says. It might be the only spell that he ever created that actually works”

Raiten finishes her stew and places the wooden bowl and spoon on the mantelpiece. “So, if what you’re saying is true, then where are your tattoos of the Scriptures?”

Himriph threw the kindling into the fire. “The tattoo thing,” he pauses to take a quick breath, “was Sherman’s idea. Centra and I decided against it. Sherman was upset.”

Raiten visualizes the prophets, on the battlefield,in her mind, “Yes, unfortunately, I remember her. She was very attractive. She was the only one without any marks on her body, except for something on her forearm. I think it was two birds intertwined.”

Himriph spoke softly, “They were doves. Did it look something like this?” He rolls up his sleeve. Raiten takes a careful look. “Yes, there is a strong resemblance.”

“We got matching tattoos. We were in love. And I don’t know if I will ever see her again. He is holding his heart, a tear forms at the corner of his eye.”

Raiten realizes that Himriph was telling the truth. He continues”I was a breeder, and she was gifted with the power of the wind.”

Raiten smirked. “How can I forget?”

Himriph’s sad demeanor perked up slightly. “So, you met her?”

Raiten stands up. “We had an unfortunate encounter.”

Himriph covers his mouth and giggles, “She was always a little hot-tempered.”

Raiten sensed as if he was hiding something. She walks over to the window, opens it to lean out, and whistles. A moment of silence follows, and then a whistle in return—the ok signal from Barbearus letting her know all is well. Looking around outside she notes that the snow had stopped, she could still see their footprints and her spear where she had left it.

Himriph goes into his tiny closet and pulls out a hooded cloak. Raiten notices a golden pair of shoes way too big for him sitting on the top shelf. She turns her attention back to Himriph, who is holding a cloak standing on top of a chair. She immediately recognizes it from the night she was visited by the mysterious duo, as well as from the morning of the battle. It was a cloak of a prophet. Raiten’s curiosity piqued. “Where did you get that?”

“It was mine,” Himriph replied. “It was given to me when I received my gift of breeding. I thought you would be interested.” He hands it to Raiten.

Raiten carefully examined the cloak, which sparkles and shimmers against the light in an enchanted way. “This material feels and looks very unusual,” she states, handing the cloak back to Himriph.

“It was woven from the hair of the gods,” he explains as he hangs the cloak back up in his closet.

Now, feeling a bit more respect for the little man, Raiten asks, “How long have you been bound in this place?”

Himriph sighs, “Have you seen any new species in the animal kingdom in the last thousand years?”

Raiten shook her head. “I haven’t lived that long, but I can’t say I have.”

Himriph, acting eager to share his story, stands in front of Raiten as if he were about to perform. “Well, that’s because I’m not around anymore; a helpful skill, nevertheless. For instance, like the creation of the cheetah from the lion, a zebra from the horse—how about the eagle from the hawk? That was one of my favorites. I had a great idea for a giraffe and an elephant. I was going to call it a Giraphant, but I never got the chance to finish it. With a charge of excitement in his voice he adds,” But actually before any of this ever took place, I was a singer and an actor, and I was quite good. He lowers his head looking at the floor a melancholy expression, “but that was a long, long time ago.

Centra thought of my gifts as romantic. She detested Sherman; he was always prophesying with his prophecies, that old windbag.” With a quick change of a subject. He giggles with that annoying laugh again. “Would you like to play a game?”

Raiten begins to yawn, exhaustion plain on her face. “I’m feeling tired,” she mutters, fatigue weighing heavily on her. Himrith presses eagerly, “Just one quick game, you’ll like it. I promise.” Raiten tilts her head, skeptical. “Are my warriors safe in the barn with those strange-looking animals? I hope they’re not man-eating.” Himrith’s broad smile stretches even wider. “No, of course not. I created them myself. Nothing around here will eat you—nothing, except, of course,” he pauses, “those two sisters up in the mountains. They’ll eat anything.” Her eyes snap open in shock. “What! We came here to find them! Do you know where they are? Can you show us the way?” Himrith smoothly dodges the question . “You know I like you. You remind me a bit of Centra. Please, let’s play a quick game. I know you’ll enjoy it.” Though exhausted, Raiten considers that if she cooperates, maybe he’ll reveal what she needs to know. Reluctantly, she gives in, “Okay, what do I have to do?” The little man scurries around the room, gathering four objects, and lays them on the table in front of her. Then he says, “First, a bowl of water; second, a candle; third, a piece of string; and finally, a cup. If survival depended on it, which would you choose first?” Himrith covers his mouth with a giggle, then suddenly adopts a serious tone. “You only get one choice. Choose wisely.” Her mind flashes back—she’s heard that phrase before but can’t quite place it. Weary, she nods. “Alright, little man, I’ll play your game.” Her gaze falls on the four items on the table. She runs her hand over each, then steps back to ponder, chin resting on her hand. Finally, her fingers close around the third item—the candle. The little man’s face lights up with a smile. “Why did you pick the candle?” Raiten looks him in the eyes. “You didn’t say what time of day it is; it could be night, so if I light the candle, I can see the water. If it’s too far to reach, I’ll tie the string to the cup, lower it into the water, and then drink from the cup.” Himrith claps his small hands together. “Wise choice, my lady, wise choice,” Himrith whispers, a curious glint in his eye. “Maybe you’ll play this game again sometime.” Raiten feels a small sense of accomplishment. “Perhaps, my friend.” Himrith moves to the window, closing it and tying down the curtain. “Now we sleep. We can talk in the morning—yes, in the morning. I will give you everything you need.” He gestures toward a spot where Raiten can rest. She wants to press him further, but a heavy weariness drags her down. As she lies on the thick, furry animal hide Himrith pointed out, her last thought before sleep is that, although he’s told her the truth so far, something inside her still feels uneasy about him.

Chapter 45

The Map of Himrith

The next morning, Raiten is startled awake from a deep sleep. A cold chill fills the room. She looks up and sees the front door wide open, slamming against the wall from the force of the wind. One of Himrith’s strange creatures has slipped inside, its head buried in the kettle, licking leftover food from the night before. The fire smolders, nearly out. She glances around, wondering where Himrith is, “where could he have gone, and why would he leave without a word?”

She surveys the room and spots a parchment left on her stool, held down by a small rock. Curious, she lifts the rock and unfolds the parchment: it is a map to the sisters’ lair. Following the lines with her finger, she pinpoints the entrance marked in bold letters. She can barely believe her eyes.

Her mind flashes back to the moment she faced a ghostly entity in her chambers. Words she’ll never forget rise in a whisper: “The cave of lost souls.” The map’s bold markings confirm it—this is the entrance. Whatever the entity tried to tell her, it now makes sense—this was meant to be. Then she remembers the warning: “Beware, and choose wisely.” She wonders, what will she face? What wise choice must she make? Questions she cannot answer. With renewed purpose, she reaches for her furs, shaking the sleep from her mind. She tucks the map inside her coat pocket and dresses quickly.

“I wonder how Rebellion and my warriors are doing in the barn,” she says, shooing the strange creature back outside into its pen.

Exiting the cottage, she feels refreshed, drawing a deep breath of crisp morning air as the first light touches the snowy landscape. She closes the door firmly, ensuring Himrith’s animals stay outside.

Looking across the clearing, she sees a pristine, untouched blanket from last night’s snowfall. She admires its contours, its beauty. It almost feels like a violation to mother nature’s flawless design to step on it—until she notices a small set of footprints, barely visible, leading into the woods. A smile touches her lips. “Himrith, your tiny feet are almost invisible in the snow, no bigger than your strange animals’. I wonder where he went…maybe he’s foraging for wood or food. The little man may be odd, but he keeps his word.”

She steps into the snow, each crunch soft beneath her feet. The snow rises past her ankles. She moves slowly, mindful of each step.

Reaching the center of the clearing, the barn comes into view. She whistles, and the barn doors shift slightly open. Rebellion’s head pokes through, offering a comforting sign. Rebellion, overjoyed, releases steady puffs of air as she stomps in greeting.

Moments later, the barn doors swing wide, and Barbearus appears, giving the all-clear. Raiten turns her gaze to the cozy cottage carved into the tree, admiring the craftsmanship…”an impressive feat for such a small man.” As her warriors gather in the clearing, they ready their gear and saddle their horses, waiting for her command. Mounting Rebellion, she glances back at her snowy footprints leading away from the cottage. With purpose, she turns Rebellion’s reins into the misty forest, raising her arm for everyone to follow. Raiten reaches into her pocket, unfolds the map, charting their new course. An exhilarating rush surges inside her.

Maybe, she thinks, “I still have a chance to fulfill my destiny.

The map of Himrith presents a new quest, and I’m ready for the challenge.” In her excitement, she forgets to check her gear. They have already traveled several kilometers into the forest when she realizes she left her spear behind. She signals her warriors to continue north while she turns back, intending to catch up later. All she needs to do is follow the faint tracks in the snow back to Himrith’s cottage. Who knows—he might be there, and she can thank him.

Finally, she reaches the clearing. Dismounting, she pushes aside the bushes that served as her cover last night. “Do you see what I see?” she whispers. To her shock, the cottage in the tree is gone. The animals, the barn—everything vanished. The tree still stands, but there is no trace of what was there. “Maybe we took the wrong path, my love,” she says, stroking Rebellion. She kneels, examining the tracks, picking up broken branches and loose soil. “These are our tracks all right, but they begin and end at the edge of the clearing.” She scans the open space closely. She looks to Rebellion, “There’s no sign anyone has been here since we left, which wasn’t long ago at all.” Then she pauses, confused. It hasn’t snowed since last night. What kind of sorcery is this? A wave of cold dread washes over her. Ghostly chills run down her spine. “Here we go again,” she mutters. “I’ve seen enough ghosts and demons to last a lifetime.”

She ties Rebellion’s reins to a branch and steps cautiously through the snow, scanning the perimeter like a seasoned warrior. She approaches the large tree trunk and knocks to see if it is hollow, but it is solid—just an old tree. Now she feels sure they must have taken a wrong turn; maybe this wasn’t the right place after all. As she begins to leave, something catches her eye—partially buried in the snow. It is her spear, leaning against a tree, exactly as she left it.

Chapter 46 A Queen’s Wish

Himrith’s map proves accurate so far; it leads them to a steep, icy cliff at the mountain’s base. From there, they must climb its vertical face to reach the map’s entry point into the mountain. Barbearus gears up and prepares to go with her. Raiten gently places her hand on his shoulder. “We can’t risk both of us,” she says. She looks up at the midday sun. “If I don’t return in two sunsets, go back to the homeland and continue our journey. Here, l prepared this document.”Handing him the scroll. “This is my seal, and it will hold true. It proclaims that you will take over my throne as King. You’ve been a good ally, Barbearus…I will never forget you.” Barbearus kneels, placing his hand over his heart. “Raiten, we’ve known each other since birth. You’ve been my queen and my friend. I vow to honor your name, but our journey will not end here.” He pauses, eyes cast downward. “We’ll be waiting.” Then he stands, looking into her green eyes with earnestness, softly adding, “I’ll be waiting…please return to us.” Barbearus’s voice returns to its commanding tone. “You’ll travel with my two bravest warriors.” He calls out, “Egthomas! Mrutus!” The two warriors, warming themselves by the fire, instantly leap to their feet and stand at attention, eyes forward. Egthomas is a master with an axe. He can chop a man’s ear off his head at fifty paces. Egthomas is a stout and powerful man wider than he is tall, carrying a heavy beard. Barbearus gestures toward a distant tree with a branch dangling invitingly. “Watch.” Barbearus points, releasing him into action. Egthomas quickly unslings his hidden axe strapped into a harness on his back with a red handle, aiming precisely. A swift throw sends the axe slicing through the air, severing a leaf from the branch. The axe thunks into the trunk behind it. Barbearus then picks up three dried figs and calls to Mrutus. Mrutus is tall and lean with two gold bands around each wrist. He’s not old enough to grow a full beard, but he still carries the light whiskers of a young man. Barbearus tosses the figs high into the air, giving him a target. With one quick motion, Mrutus draws three small knives from his harness and hurls them precisely, piercing all three figs as they land harmlessly on the ground. “Use them as you must. They will protect you by any means.” Raiten, impressed, nods in respect. Barbearus calls to the warriors, “Ready yourselves.” Without hesitation, they make fists and strike their chests in unison. Rebellion suddenly jumps, breathing heavily, stomping her feet. Raiten turns to her, calming her with a whisper: “Don’t worry, my love,” She reaches into her pocket and feeds her something. “I promise I’ll return…We have much to see together,” as she strokes her. She hands Rebellion’s reins to Barbearus. “Please, take her. She shouldn’t see me depart.” Barbearus nods. He calls on one of his warriors, handing the reins to him, “Lead her into the woods over the ridge. A quick response from the warrior, “Yes, my Lord.” Barbearus, with a serious tone, “Make sure you are gentle, or I will have your head.” The warrior swallows nervously and repeats, “Yes, my Lord.” With weather favorable at the mountain’s base, Raiten and her warriors prepare to ascend. Egthomas carries water and rations, his axe secured at his belt. Mrutus fastens a coil of rope and supplies to his waist, strapping on his double harness, knives at the ready. They stand tall, awaiting her command. Raiten salutes her loyal followers as they kneel, honoring their queen and her courage. She steps onto a jutting rock, grips the formation above, and begins to scale the icy wall, with her two warriors following closely behind.

Chapter 47

The Caves of Lost Souls

As they ascend, the mountain face grows increasingly treacherous; the air turns biting cold. Blizzard-like conditions shroud them, turning the trail increasingly dangerous. After narrowly escaping disaster several times, they finally reach a narrow cliff ledge. The wind screams mercilessly, drowning out all sound and making communication nearly impossible. Raiten fumbles with the map, then shouts over the howling wind, “We’re close—just above that ridge.” She peers at the wall ahead and frowns. There’s no way up. “There are no other rock formations around. This ridge is inverted from our position, and it’s solid ice. Climbing it is impossible.”

Egthomas backs up to the edge of the cliff, gazing up at the steep ridge. “I have an idea, my queen. Mrutus, bring the rope,” he yells. He pulls his ax from his back strap. “Mrutus, tie the rope securely to the end of my ax!” Egthomas steps back as far as he can, raising his axe high above his head, the rope slack on the ground. With breathtaking speed, he hurls his red-handled axe at the top of the ridge. It slices through the icy air like a blade through butter, striking its mark. The vibrant red handle makes it easy to see even in these harsh conditions, with the rope hanging down in front of them. Egthomas grips the rope tightly. “It’s holding—for now. But I don’t know how long it’ll last. I’ll go up first to test it,” Mrutus calls out, “Wait,” as he quickly opens his coat, pulling four knives from inside his harness. He flips them outward into the icy wall at different spots, reaching up to the ridge’s top near the dangling rope. “Use these to balance yourself; they’ll help stabilize you as you climb.” Egthomas nods in appreciation. Raiten watches, awestruck by her warriors’ skills. Egthomas begins to climb, straining with effort until he reaches the top, waving them up eagerly. Mrutus encourages, “You’re next, my lady. I’ll be right behind you.” Raiten gazes up at Egthomas, who is now high above her at the icy edge. Taking a deep breath, she grips the swinging rope in the wind and pulls herself upward. Several meters up, she spots the first knife lodged in the wall. The fierce wind fights her every inch as she struggles to ascend. She plants her foot on the last knife, which suddenly loosens and snaps free, causing her to lose her grip and stumble backward into free fall. An abrupt tug on her coat stops her mid-air as Mrutus holds her firmly by the sleeve. He yells, “Grab the rope with your other hand, and I’ll pull you up.” Raiten quickly grasps the rope and pulls herself back into position. Egthomas reaches down, grabs her, and with a powerful yank, hauls her over the ridge to safety—for now. Mrutus follows, pulling himself over the ridge beside Raiten. Flustered, she gasps, “You two saved my life. Thank you both.”

Without a response, they nod in understanding and help her to her feet. Raiten peers over the edge. “It was a long way down. I definitely wouldn’t want to do that again.” She pulls the map from inside her coat, holding it tightly against the howling wind, and calls out loudly, “According to the map, the entrance should be somewhere on this wall. This massive ridge encircles the mountain’s face. We need to feel around and see what we can find. Let’s split up.” They go their separate ways, their hands feeling along the cold unforgiving wall as they move apart.

After some time, Raiten begins to feel deflated from fighting the elements. The thought of giving up flashes through her mind but she’s come too far. She reflects on her life,feeling proud of her accomplishments. She knew this might be a one-way trip with no return but she didn’t think it would end so soon. Just when she was about to give up hope. She finds a long vertical crack in the icy wall. She takes off her glove and pushes her hand into the crack, feeling the warm air surrounding her semi-numb fingers. Excited, and with a weakened voice, she calls out as loud as she can, “Mrutus, Egthomas, come quickly!” They scramble back to her side. “I think I’ve found something,” she says. Egthomas examines the width of the opening heat chips away at the ice increasing its size, optimism creasing on his face. “It’s tight, but I believe we can squeeze through. Should we proceed?” Raiten nods firmly.

Egthomas slips his body through the narrow opening, followed by Raiten and Mrutus. Once they pass through the rock formation, the air turns warm and comfortable. With a sigh of relief, they lower their hoods and shake off the cold that had been biting at their skin. Egthomus and Mrutus light their torches and carefully step forward. At first, it feels like a small, tight chamber, but as they go deeper into the cave, a sudden rush of open air greets them. Raiten, eager to press on, tries to step past Mrutus, but he holds out his arm, stopping her in midstream. He looks at her with a stone-cold expression as he lowers his torch, revealing a sheer cliff edge just beyond her next step. Raiten gulps, glancing over the edge into a fierce abyss, where molten lava pulses with a steady amber glow. Mrutus says, “Your Highness, I think we should move with caution.” Raiten gives a wry nod, “You have a good point, Mrutus.” She takes another look over the edge. “I think I’ll let you lead for a while.” Mrutus nods, “ yes your highness.” Egthomas steps up behind him, raising his torch high, revealing a vast canyon—centuries-old stalactites hang like silent sentinels, pointing the way, their moist surfaces reflecting the lava’s glow. A faint scent of musty ash drifts through the air, filling the cavern with a smoldering aroma. As their eyes adjust, Raiten studies her map, which marks a red dot at their entry. “I think this red dot represents the lava canyon where we stand now.” Tracing her finger along the map. “According to this, there should be an opening right here on this wall.” She gestures to a shadowy section on her right. Egthomas swings his torch across the rocky surface, spotting a faint outline of an opening—almost invisible, hidden in the stone. With an emotionless expression, he says “This must be the way.” Without hesitation, Egthomas waves them forward himself taking the lead followed by Raiten,with Mrutus carefully keeping watch behind them.

They lean over into a slightly uncomfortable position stepping through the hidden overhang. Moving within the somewhat confined enclosure. Raiten says, “ I have to ask—do you men ever smile?” Egthomas, without taking his eyes away from the path in front of him, responds, “No, Your Highness.” Raiten tilts her head, slightly amused, and asks, “Why not?” Mrutus replies, “we’re trained not to smile, not to speak, only protect.” Raiten mutters to herself, a small grin on her lips, “I really need to teach you guys how to lighten up.”As they both answer in unison, “yes your highness.”

Leaving the cramped, uncomfortable overpass behind, they step into a larger, more compact, drier cave, its walls tinted with a subtle, reddish hue. Dim light filters in through small holes in the rock, carrying the faint reflection of the lava canyon’s fire.

Egthomas moves ahead, torch in hand, scanning for any danger. Then he freezes—something feels off. The walls, he notices, seem to be shifting with a continuous motion , as if they are alive.

At first, he thinks it’s just reflections, but when he shines his torch closer, he whispers, “if my eyes do not deceive me, something stirs within the very fabric of the rock.”

His breath quickens. “My queen!” he calls out, voice urgent. “Stay clear of the walls—they live!” Mrutus moves quickly, stepping in front of Raiten, placing himself between her and the shifting walls, his hand near his weapons, ready for a threat. Egthomas rushes back, standing beside him. Together, they raise their torches, probing the strange, pulsing surface. Breathless, they confront a horrifying sight. Dim, distorted faces and bodies clutching broken, decayed weapons of war, silently conveying their eternal torment. The walls pulse and ripple, as if the imprisoned spirits yearn to be free. Raiten turns to her unsettled warriors. “Do not fear the undead. They are fallen warriors searching for a cause—eternal ghosts who died in battles from wars past. They will not hurt us; these are our brothers. Now we understand why they call this…The cave of lost souls. We shall show respect, and pass in peace.”

Chapter 48

The serpents’ heads:

Raiten and her two warriors press forward, each step laden with uncertainty, never knowing what shadow or threat might lie around the next bend. Egthomas, ever vigilant, moves ahead—but now, strangely, he stops, sitting on a rock, waiting patiently for their arrival. Raiten’s voice cuts through the still air: “Why have we stopped?” Egthomas responds, his words slow and deliberate, “We have come to a blockade. The walls have collapsed, entombing the path. The only way forward is to tear down this rubble.” Raiten checks the map, “according to this, there is a multicolored spot here which leads directly through that wall.” Before Raiten can say another word, Mrutus steps forward, his focus sharp. He gestures to Egthomas, “Hold my torch and follow me.” He moves quickly toward the far end of the collapse. Leaving Raiten, standing in anticipation. Mrutus kneels, scooping soil between his fingers, testing a few rocks by weight, his mind calculating every possibility. Egthomas stays close, holding the torch, matching Mrutus’s pace as he circles the rubble, examining it from every angle. Raiten tries to ask a question, but they move so swiftly, passing her by, that she barely has a chance to speak. Finally, Mrutus halts at a specific spot. He picks up more dirt, taps a few rocks, and says, “This is it.” Raiten, eyes sharp, watches him carefully, and turns to Egthomas, finally asking, “What is he searching for?” Egthomas, catching his breath, answers, “He’s looking for weaknesses. He’s always had a gift for tunneling—he was the best of us, a born digger.” Mrutus points to a precise spot and declares, “We must start here. This is the weakest point. The stones above are firm—we can tunnel beneath them without fear of collapse.” He turns to Raiten, his gaze unwavering. “With your permission, your highness, we can begin.” Raiten, stumbling over her words, gestures with a nod, “Yes, of course…proceed.” Mrutus replies, “Yes, your highness.” Then Egthomas, polite but focused, asks, “My lady, could you hold these two torches and give us light as we work?” Raiten nods, taking the torches, “I’m glad to help.” And both warriors answer in unison, “Yes, your highness.” Raiten smirks, she’s heard that phrase enough times that is driving her crazy, she commands, “from now on I want you to call me queen Raiten, after all this is over, you can go back to calling me your highness, ok.” They both answer in unison again “yes, your highness,”Raiten a little flustered says, “I see this is getting us nowhere, all right—get on with it.” Egthomas is ready,as Mrutus starts to dig in, throwing debris behind him with relentless speed. As quickly as the debris comes out, Egthomus tosses it to the side, not to block the tunnel. Minute by minute, the sound of their digging fades. Mrutus’s body becomes less visible, only his feet are exposed, and then just like that, Mrutus disappears from sight, as if swallowed by the Earth. Raiten watches intently, wondering what is going to happen next. Suddenly, a brilliant light erupts from the tunnel, flooding the chamber with a radiant rainbow of colors. Mrutus’s voice echoes up, “It’s safe…have the queen come through.” With renewed strength of purpose, Raiten slips off her coat, kneels, and crawls into the tunnel. The warm, brilliant light paints her in a cascade of colors. Her heart races as excitement propels her forward. Mrutus reaches down, to pull her out, helping her to her feet. As her eyes adjust, she can hardly believe what stood before her,a crystal city. Beauty beyond words, intoxicating in its glow and color. Egthomas emerges from the tunnel, pulling the rope through where they’re standing with all of their supplies. He straightens up to dust himself off. Even he, who always keeps his emotions in check, cannot help but gasp in astonishment.

They make their way through the silent city streets, awestruck by the wonder unfolding before them. The air is thick with the intoxicating aroma of blossoms, as each step draws them deeper into a kaleidoscope of color. Raiten notices that every home and structure is swallowed by wild flowers and dense foliage, as if the inhabitants vanished and the earth itself took back what was theirs.

Raiten observes every detail with growing unease, she explains to her warriors, “Look closely…this is a civilization lost to time, wrapped in a chilling mystery. These crystal spires, beautiful yet cold, once held life,now they are a warning. Pots left half-cooked, plates waiting in silence, clothes swaying as if their owners just vanished. This place is a threat disguised as wonder…like a ghostly relic holding its breath.” Mrutus whispers, “What kind of place is this, where life and death walk hand in hand?” Raiten, her voice heavy with trepidation, replies, “This is the sister’s handiwork…a paradox of dark sorcery. These people were extinguished, leaving only the haunting beauty of their extinction.”

Just then, a faint sound of running water drifts through the air. Egthomas glances up, his voice low: “Look, a fountain.” Raiten steps forward, curiosity in her eyes. “I wonder if it’s fresh.” They move toward a pool framed in transparent Crystal, water spilling steadily from a hidden source in the wall. Their water sacks were nearly empty, thirst starting to set in. The presence of this fountain seems to be a blessing. Raiten cups her hands into a pool of water, ready to drink, but Egthomas steps in, his expression urgent. “Forgive me, your highness, but we must test it first.” Mrutus dips his fingers into the pool and tastes a single drop. After a tense moment, he nods. “It’s fresh. We can drink.” Egthomas moves quickly, filling their sacks, while Raiten finally sips, relief softening her face. She surveys the ruins,“it’s uncanny, this pure water in such a place. Could it be coming from a hidden spring deeper in the mountain? I wonder.” Mrutus splashes his face, and as the cool water wakes him, his reflection shimmers…then distorts. A figure ripples through the surface, arms reaching for him. Fixated by this vision he bends forward, looking deeper into the water. To his surprise, he recognizes the figure, horrifyingly it is quickly consumed by a hideous two headed creature. He gasps, stumbles back, and crashes to the ground. Egthomas drops the sacks, rushing to him. Raiten quickly comes to his aid, kneeling beside him, her voice tight with worry. “What happened? Are you hurt?” Mrutus, shaking with fear, stares ahead. “I saw something…someone…in the water.” Egthomas grips his arm, his voice tense. “Tell me what it was. We’ve faced spirits before, you fear nothing?” Mrutus stares past them, haunted. “It was him. He called to me for help …he was suffering, then a monster with two heads covered him, horrible,” A pause, heavy, and then, “It was Mansa.” Egthomas’s voice drops to a whisper. “Mansa? How is that possible?” Mrutus grips his arm, eyes fierce. “I swear, I saw him.” Raiten demands, “Who is he, and why does he matter so much?” Egthomas breathes deeply, his words barely a whisper. “He is our father. He vanished on a hunting trip in these very mountains when we were boys. Mrutus was there; he’s been haunted by it ever since, he claims a mist took him. Nobody could verify it, but our father was gone and we never saw him again. Barbearus never told you? Mrutus is my younger brother.” Raiten stands, gazing at the shadows stretching across the ruins. “This mountain keeps its secrets close,and now the spirits of our ancestors walk among them. We will face this monster, find its weaknesses. and either make it our ally or destroy it.” Egthomas is firm in his tone, “I vote we destroy it.”Mrutus still shaking, “I agree.”Raiten looks at the path in front of them. “We shall visit the serpents’ heads,… then we shall see.”

Chapter 49

Choose wisely:

As they go deeper, the vast cave walls gradually close in. Eventually, they reach a dead end with four tunnels ahead. Raiten pulls back her hood and studies the map, noting that the Himrith map ends here before these passages. She examines each one: one is overgrown with vines, flowers, and fruit; another glows softly with dry stone walls illuminated by a gentle light; a third is shrouded in darkness and gloom; the fourth is made of mud and clay, with water dripping steadily, making it impassable. Egthomas speaks first, asking, “My queen, which tunnel should we choose to continue?” The word “choose” echoes in her mind. The ghostly whispers warn, “Beware, The cave of lost souls, choose wisely. She reflects, “I am in the cave of lost souls, facing a choice. Is this what the entity meant?” Her thoughts drift back to that night, visualizing the broken fig leaf, floating in three pieces then strangely restored. ‘Could that also be a sign?’ Raiten tries to piece together the strange events leading here… the one section of the demon’s riddle she couldn’t decode,“In darkness of three we will have to sacrifice a warrior and then confess.” She starts to connect the dots…the broken fig leaf, the demon’s riddle in the darkness of three. She considers the third tunnel, the one in darkness…perhaps that’s what the clues point to. Himrith’s mysterious disappearance adds to the puzzle. She recalls his words, “Wait! Himrith’s silly game is to choose wisely,” leading her to the third tunnel. Everything seems to align now. Perhaps destiny is protecting her, or guiding her to doom. Whatever outcome awaits, she is prepared to face it. All these strange events have brought her here, to this place and this decision.

She lifts her chin confidently and commands, “Egthomas, you take the tunnel of vines. Mrutus, you take the one with the light. The fourth is beyond us.” Mrutus responds, “No, my queen, I will take the dark tunnel. This darkness may put you in danger.” Raiten looks at him, her voice gentle yet firm, placing her hand on his shoulder. “No, I can’t let you do this. This is my path. I was chosen for it, and I must walk it.” A heavy silence falls over them. Raiten takes the torch from Egthomas’ hand. The two warriors’ faces show worry; they have sworn to protect their queen, and now they feel that promise slipping away. They share one last look before choosing their paths, each pulled forward by fate, unaware of what lies ahead.

Chapter 50 The Inverted Waterway

Raiten now travels for hours, torch in hand, deeper and deeper into the abyss of the mountain’s core. Time stands still here, day is night, night is day,as if thousands of years have passed without a whisper. The air grows moist. The walls are cloaked in wild vegetation. The ground begins to puddle. At first, these watery patches are easy to avoid, until they become too numerous, sucking her boots into the muddy ground,drawing upon her already dwindling energy. As the temperature climbs,she discards many of her furs, still wearing her hood and cape to protect her from any possible falling debris.

Her water sack now empty, the urgency for survival has become critical.

The tunnel slopes upward, adding additional strain to her body. She feels that she is traveling towards the summit, but she can’t be sure.

Droplets of water falling from the ceiling threaten to snuff out her torch. After a while, those free-falling droplets begin to impede her vision, forcing her to pull her hood forward on her head.

Feeling the exhaustion of her efforts, She stops briefly to catch her breath. Lifting her head, she welcomes the droplets falling onto her face trying to regain her senses. She murmurs, “What have I got myself into? I’ve left my people and abandoned my throne all because of my stubborn pride.” Her mind drifts back to the battle. “Those prophets, it’s all their fault ,they had no right.” Rage flares up inside her. “I’m not licked yet.” Her anger ignites her determination to continue.

Then, at last, she sees a welcoming light in the distance. Quickening her pace, she hunches over as the tunnel begins to constrict. The temperature rises even higher, making it harder to take in a breath. Soon after the thinning air sputters her torch, gradually extinguishing it with every step until it goes out. Surrounded now in total darkness, she concentrates all her awareness on that shimmering light before her. The temperature becomes dizzying, she wipes away her sweat from her eyes. “Am I hallucinating, or is that light at the end of the tunnel trying to tell me something, it’s starting to waver?”

She feels lightheaded, shaking off that feeling she invests the last of her strength into a sprint forward. The tunnel continues to shrink. The crackling dirt of the tunnel is breaking down all around her. Clumps of dirt start falling from above, hitting her violently as the walls close in.

She drops to her hands and knees. The passage is almost completely filled with dirt collecting behind her; panic rises, she rapidly crawls forward, racing against the falling mud.

She keeps repeating in her mind, “I’m gonna make it. I’m gonna make it,” Just shy of the light, she reaches out, and then, with a crushing sound of entombment, the tunnel collapses…complete silence…

A calming piece fills her as the weight of the dirt compresses her surrender. Her mind drifts into a hypnotic reality as she begins to float in space, and then something drags her back…“is this it, she thinks, am I to surrender to this mountain of death.”

Her body becomes rigid, “Surrender!! Not Raiten, the queen of her people, the predecessor of her father’s legacy, the warrior, I will not lay down her weapons in defeat. If this is my end, then so be it, but I will fight to my very last breath.”

Her adrenaline burns, she claws and kicks at the dirt around her, digging forward with every ounce of strength she has left. Her breath shallow, then with one final push, she reaches out, feeling the weight of the dirt falls away from the back of her hand. “A glimmer light catches her eye through the opening her reaching arm had created. She had broken through. With a sigh of relief, she kicks more violently pushing the dirt behind her, and is just able to push her second hand through the opening, dragging herself out onto the ground. The dirt spills down closing off the tunnel, but she is now free. With her lungs about to explode. She breathes in the sweet air of life. With every breath she takes she revives her senses. Struggling to stand, her body yearning for water, she is covered in dirt from head to toe. She brushes the dirt from her eyes and looks around at her surroundings.

Before her, spreads a perfect landscape, manicured with flowers and trees everywhere. “What a paradox ,such a place of beauty in the middle of this mountain of eternal suffering,”She thinks aloud. The light waves down on all the foliage as if it was softly breathing; the wonder of daylight fills the cavern with a hypnotizing shimmer of tranquility. Raiten looks up at the ceiling; it is transparent, with a graceful flow like an ocean at sunset… now she understands the waving light in the tunnel. It was the water reflecting off the sun. Fish swim all around in every direction in this transparent wonder. She is at the bottom of a vast pool of water. Raiten reaches up to touch this inverted waterway, running her fingers across the surface. A fish nips at her fingers harmlessly. Her fingers are wet as she touches them to her lips…“fresh water” she says, “sweet to the taste. How is this possible? This could only be the haven of a sorcerer… the sisters!” Thirst guides her hand as she scoops water from above. She starts to drink, and as the cool water refreshes her, the image of the fountain in the crystal city appears in her mind. She looks up at the waterway,feeling peaceful, she murmurs, “This must be its source… And then she has an urgent thought, “What of Egthomus and Mrutus? Did they have to endure the same struggle? Did they make it through?” Just at the edge of her vision, a movement shifts in the landscape,catching her attention.

Chapter 51

The Tablet of Dreams

She takes her last sip of water from her cupped hands when a movement catches her eye. From behind the hanging vines on the wall, something is swirling. She shakes out her wet hands, proceeding to walk through the grassy clearing. Pushing aside the hanging foliage to reveal a stone tablet. The surface of the tablet is swirling. Hypnotizing at first, it starts to slow down until something materializes. It clearly depicts a grand event, a celebration of the birth of a female child, blessed by the spirits. The tablet swirls again,as now it shows the story of a young female, growing up with a cheetah by her side. Then it changes once more, now showing an adult woman, with the a Crystal pendant around her neck, fighting a demon and their army. The tablet swirls for the last time, showing the unbeaten female warrior, a white streak in her hair, standing before a domed temple, holding the crystal high as the demon and their army lie defeated at her feet. The bottom of the tablet begins to glow; Raiten has to step back as the glow has become too intense. Letters of fire appear, burn into the tablet. As the smoke dissipates and the tablet cools, Raiten rubs away the ashes, and a word appears: Zendara. Raiten wonders, is this a sign of the future, or the past? What could this mean?

Chapter 52

The Sisters of Illusion

A voice called out to Raiten, she turns her attention to its origin. She can see two women beckoning from the top of a hill. She turns to look back at the tablet, it had vanished back into the wall and the foliage covered it. She turns her attention back again to the ladies who had beckoned her, but they were also gone. Were these the two sisters that she had come to see?

Pulling her hood up over her head, she slowly and cautiously follows the path up the hill. She notices with every step she takes, the waterway keeps moving up higher above her head until it is unreachable. A small white cottage with red rimmed windows and a wicker roof sits at the top of the hill. It is surrounded by a fenced in garden, with an open well, made of stone that protrudes from the ground. It is nestled in the corner on the left side of the garden. A long rope hung in the center of the well that led straight up to the waterway above. Raiten thought to herself, that’s odd, a rope that floats in the air? You don’t see that every day. Various garden tools were scattered all over the place. The soil looks as if it was being prepared for planting. Raiten walks up to the entrance gate and stands next to a large weeping willow tree partially hanging over the garden with a wooden bench underneath it. She observes the two middle aged ladies dressed in regular colorful clothing, one with traditional headdress, and the other wearing a colorful scarf tied in a knot around her forehead. The ladies were both planting something in the garden. They reminded Raiten of her two aunts when she was growing up. “Nothing threatening here,”she whispers to herself, “they look completely harmless. Could this be some sort of a trick or maybe an illusion. she speaks out Excuse me ladies! Am I in the right place? Are you the Sisters of illusion?” One of the ladies stands up in response, wiping her brow, “yes, you have reached the right place. My name is Esther, and this is my sister Lorraine”, and then they spoke together, ” Nice to eat you, oh, excuse us, we meant nice to meet you.” Raiten stumbles back. Esther covers her laugh with her hand, ”no no, don’t worry. It’s just a silly little game we play”. Lorraine looks up, faking a smile. Raiten responds nervously, but keeps her cool, “no harm taken… nice to meet you two”, Esther gestures at her sister, “see, very polite”. Lorraine with not such a pleasant attitude, “we couldn’t help but notice that you were gazing at the tablet”. Raiten puts her hands in her pockets and acts nonchalantly. “What tablet”? Esther smiles, “the tablet of dreams

you were just looking at it”. Lorraine impatiently asks, “Did you see anything?”

Raiten shuffles her feet, kicking a small rock, ‘‘If I did see something… and I’m not saying I did, what would it mean?” Lorraine, slightly annoyed, says, “it answers a question with a question? This one is clever”. She plunges a shovel into the ground to extract some soil. Esther, still trying to be gracious, “the tablet of dreams, can predict the future”, and then they spoke together, as if they were one person, “but it hasn’t spoken in thousands of years.” Raiten leans up against the tree casually, “Well, if you put it that way. I did see a little something”. The tree slightly quivers, pushing Raiten off. Raiten, a little shocked, looks around and assumes… It’s just the wind. Then she thought to herself, “Wait, what wind, I’m in a cave.”… Esther got excited, “this one has a future, it saw something. We should give it a chance.” Lorraine spikes her shovel firmly into the ground, learning on it, “we’ll know soon enough.”

Raiten, not knowing what the right answer should be, attempts to change the subject. “You ladies did a great job in this place, it’s so…. Lively”. The two sisters look at each other and then look at Raiten who states, “I thought you would be scary, evil, demonic creatures, instead, I find that you are two sweet ladies.” Esther giggles, and Lorraine makes a half smile. Esther, “This is how we are most of the time.” Lorraine interrupts, “unless we are threatened.” Esther quickly interjectes, “no need to be scared.” And then they spoke together, “Anyways, there is no escape from this place, unless we deem it to be so, and that hasn’t happened for at least …a thousand years.” Esther gestures as she tries to remember back, “Who was that”? Lorraine quince her eyes for a moment, “oh yeah,it was that narcissistic fool, Himrith”. “That’s who gave me this map”. Raiten reaches into her pocket, but the map is gone. Confused, “but it was right here, at least I thought so”. Raiten shakes her head. ‘If there’s something strange or weird going on, it probably exists here on this mountain.’ Was Himrith real or just an illusion”? Lorraine smirks, “he’s real all right. He just moves around a lot. Always playing little tricks to make himself look mysterious”. The two sisters spoke together. “He has plenty of our maps, but we put a spell on all of them to disappear when they get here, so no one can leave unless we allow it”.

Raiten couldn’t help but notice that the two sisters continued to answer each other and speak together, like some sort of psychotic communication as if they were one person.

Chapter 53

I am no man

Raiten asks, “So you made a deal with Himrith?” Lorraine picks up a small wooden bucket and holds it out. Esther walks over to the well, and pulls the rope firmly, as a stream of water comes straight down from the waterway high above, directly into Lorraine’s bucket filling it precisely. Raiten couldn’t believe her eyes. Lorraine replies nonchalantly, “yes if that’s what you want to call it ”, Himrith was once a prophet, and he wanted to make a trade”. Esther bends over, struggles to pick up a rake, she looks over at her sister, “we’re getting old.” Lorraine replies, “speak for yourself”. Esther stands up straight and assertively puts her hands on her hips looking at her sister, “I am!” She turns back to Raiten, “We would give Himrith a love potion, and in exchange he would send us as many visitors as he could find”. Lorraine pours some of the water from the bucket onto the soil, as a strange steamy mist ascends upward like she had just smothered out a fire. “Except the fool used the potion on Centra.” Esther pushes the misty soil back-and-forth trying to even it out, creating even more mist. ”I heard she has a bad temper.” Lorraine with a slightly angered voice, “who cares”.

Esther rakes more aggressively, “aren’t we testy today”. Lorraine throws more water all over the garden, deliberately creating mist directly into Esther‘s face.

Raiten speaks under her breath, “everything in this place is upside down, except for this tree”. Suddenly Raiten feels something tap on her shoulder. She looks up. It is the tree. A voice speaks from its trunk, “If you’d like, you could sit on my bench”. Startled, Raiten quickly backs away, “no thanks. I appreciate the offer”. The tree shrugs its branches, “to each his own.”

Esther continues,“and when Himrith got caught, Sherman put a curse on him, taking away his beauty and bounding him to this mountain for eternity. The two ladies speak together. “And that deal still stands till today.” Raiten thinks to herself, “Himrith, that little liar. If he could make a deal with these ladies, why can’t I?” Raiten tries to probe a little deeper, “What about the crystal city?

Lorraine continues to dig. “The city was there long before we got here, one of JORDAN‘s useless creations.” Esther smiles at her sister, giving a quick nod towards Raiten, it’s very observant. Very observant for sure…” Lorraine smirks unamused, “we just redecorated.” Esther adds, “a little mist here, and a little mist there,can do wonders for cleaning up a garden.”

Raiten can’t believe how ruthless they are, thinking to herself, “was I much better?” Trying to extract as much information as possible, Raiten continues to probe for weakness,“what of those poor souls in the cave?”

Lorraine, walks over to a wooden box and opens it. “They’re just waste”. Esther reaches into her pocket, pulls out a colorful rag wiping her forehead. “We don’t know what to do with the leftovers, so we just put them in there. At least they’re all together. They can keep each other company”. Just like the others that got here earlier”.

Raiten visibly upset, “the others, what others!!? My Warriors? Where are they?” Lorraine pulls a red handled axe out of the wooden box, and proceeds to chop into the soil, loosening it.

Raiten notices it immediately, “that axe, it belongs to Egthomas!” Lorraine says, “oh was that his name,He’s not gonna be needing it anymore. Why waste a good garden tool?”

Esther responds, “They got here way before you.” Lorraine, “They were not very friendly, matter of fact, they were downright rude.” Esther,“we tried to be nice. They kept going on about something to do with their father.”

Lorraine sputters, “they were not pleasant.” Esther adds,“not… pleasant at all. So we showed them.”

Raiten insists, “what did you do with my Warriors”?

The two sisters spoke together again, “Well, you see how hard we work in the garden, somebody has to do it.” Suddenly a ghostlike misty hand pops out of the ground. Raiten recognizes the bracelet around its wrist, it was Mrutus’s. Lorraine steps on it and pushes it back down. “How do you think we keep this place so…”and their voices got very deep and demonic… “full of life”. They pause and stare directly at Raiten as their eyes widen and start to change color. Raiten is horrified, but dares not show it, realizing now what these sisters were capable of. Their facade of sweetness being just a mask, to disguise their real intentions,

to extract souls and use them as fertilizer for their garden. They would dispose of the wasted bodies, trapping their souls here… in torment for eternity.

Raiten swallows down her emotions, trying not to let the sisters sense any weakness in her.

She thinks, “I’m going to have to take a different approach if I want to survive.

“So!” trying to engage their attention again, “Himrith kept his part of the bargain?” Esther rakes the soil over the misty hand and pats it down, “oh yes, for every thousand visitors, we fix one of his body parts, maybe you noticed”. Lorraine opens the fence door, as her face starts to contort slightly. “Why don’t you come into the garden so we can talk a little more privately”. The limb of the tree reaches down and pushes Raiten towards the open gate. Raiten’s heels scrape against the ground, resisting, as she backs off quickly, slipping around the tree branch. “I prefer to stay here if you don’t mind. I can hear you perfectly well”. Lorraine abruptly replies, her voice slightly changing as it becomes thinner and scratchy, “suit yourself. I guess we will do this the hard way”, slamming the gate closed. Raiten turns to give the tree a dirty look and the tree pleads innocently, “it’s my job”. Raiten flips up her nose at the tree, focuses her attention back to the two sisters, “Since you ladies like to trade, maybe we could make a deal”.

Lorraine laughs, her voice and her posture start to change, even more demon-like than before. “It thinks we would make a deal. Her laughter abruptly stops, her tone somber.

“We don’t make deals with lost warriors. No man has ever left this place alive.” She glares at Raiten, “what makes you think you are so different”. Raiten knows that the end is near. With nothing to lose, she steps forward,”I am the sole ruler of the West quarter, a direct descendent of a royal bloodline. I intend to claim what is rightfully mine.” She pulls the hood off of her head, rubbing the dried dirt off her face. With a strong, forceful voice, “ and I am no man!! And please, stop referring to me as an it, my name is Queen Raiten!!”

Chapter 54

The Bottle

The air crackles with dark energy as the two sisters, Esther and Lorraine, step back, their bodies trembling and vibrating unnaturally. In a grotesque display, they push against each other until, like wax melting in a fire, they begin to merge into something utterly sinister. What was once two sweet ladies twists into a nightmarish creature,a terrifying fusion of dragon and snake, growing four times in size, with two distorted heads and a long, sinuous tail.

The transformation sends a shiver down Raiten’s spine. Esther’s voice, now a screech that echoes with malice, slices through the tension. “Maybe she is who she says she is; she could be the one.”

Lorraine’s eyes glint wickedly. “The only way we’ll know is by taking a drop of her blood and placing it in the waters of truth.”

Raiten barely has time to react before she feels a quick prick on her finger. The sisters, in an unexpected fury, consume her blood like venomous snakes, spitting it into the waterway above.

“What kind of dark magic is this?” Raiten gasps, but as she watches, the water begins to spin, revealing ancient secrets, like the mystical tablet she encountered moments ago.

The images unfold before her: a bitter past shrouded in sorrow. She sees the birth of twin sisters torn apart by familial strife. The warrior King, furious and proud, wrenches one child from her mother’s arms, leaving the other child, now separated from her sister, weeping in despair. The heartbroken mother kneels, cradling her remaining daughter, tears streaming down her face as she mourns her lost child,a mourning that never reaches Raiten’s ears.

“That child is you!” Lorraine hisses, delighting in Raiten’s shock. The revelation strikes Raiten like a bolt of lightning. All her life, she has believed the tale that she is abandoned, unwanted for her gender.

“Only as an adult do you realize you have a twin sister,” Lorraine taunts. The visions continue, showing a lonely child hardened by neglect, taught the harsh tenets of war and winning at any cost. Her heart blackens; revenge consumes her as she rages against the world for the love she has lost. A vision of Raiten as a Queen, laying waste to everything in her path, all flashing before her…a spirit of defiance birthed from her pain.

“The only thing you ever loved is your horse, Rebellion,” Lorraine sneers. “You are a pathetic creature, driven by an insatiable lust for power. You are no different than us.”

Raiten’s face flushes with emotion; the truth stings more than she cares to admit. Hatred for her twin sister, Kendra, simmers within her for the life she could have had, having been unjustly handed to another. A single tear escapes her eye. “So now you know of me. What about you?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lorraine replies, her tone dripping with malice. “We are the mothers of illusion, the shadows of apprehension…your invitation to death.”

But Esther’s voice softens slightly. “She has proven herself to be the heir to the throne, a direct descendant from a line of Kings. Determined, brave… perhaps she could be of use.”

In a fraction of a second, the sisters vanish from Raiten’s sight and the cave fills with the sounds of whispers all around her…then finally a whisper in her ear. Raiten knows it is Lorraine’s crackled voice. “My lonely, arrogant queen, so you wish to make a deal?” And then an eerie laugh fades into the darkness.

Startled, Raiten turns to try to find their location, but all she sees are moving shadows flickering on the cave walls, enhanced by the light of the moving water above. They move too fast. Lorraine snaps her tail. “What could she possibly offer us?”

“She carries the bloodline,” Esther responds, and Raiten nervously flips her head from side to side as they circle her like predators. “What if she’s not up for the task?” Lorraine’s voice echoes throughout the cave. A sense of impending doom falls over Raiten. This is not the first time she faces death.

She must use her wit and think fast. The sisters play cat and mouse, and she is the mouse.

Her next words could seal her fate.

Raiten speaks casually, as if she is a merchant selling her goods. “What is it you yearn for that you cannot possess? Is your view of the outer world confined to this pool of fish that lies above you?”

The sisters halt, intrigued by her audacity. “Is it not true that mere fish can roam its domain wherever it wishes? Should you not have the same rights that a simple fish has? Is this your pond?” Raiten outstretches her hands. Gesturing to the sister’s surroundings. “Is this your prison?” Raiten hesitates, letting her words sink in deep, hoping they bring a reaction. “My benevolent sisters, are you not better than a fish? Perhaps you should change your name from the Sisters of Illusion to the Sisters of FISH.”

Silence envelops the space. Raiten’s words strike a chord deep within them. For the first time in millennia, they are left speechless, forced to confront their own desires, battered by the comparison to mere fish.

Now eager and curious, the sisters change their tone. “How is it possible?” Esther presses. “ for you to ensure our freedom?”

Raiten senses she has them right where she wants them. With a flourish, she bows and raises her hand theatrically. “From the ashes of essentials to the power of freedom, I offer you the key to your captivity…the Light of Irimith, the Quantum Stone… the Auralite Crystal.”

Raiten continues her bid, delivering it as an eerie seductive melody.

Take my deal and you will see,

The crystal will help both you and me.

With the powers of the prophets,I’ll wipe them away.

And when you are free, the gods will pay…

“Yes! Yes!! Yes!!!” Lorraine cackles, her laughter mingling with excitement and malice. “That’s what we need!” Esther says, “That’s what we want!” Then together they speak, rumbling the fiber of the entire mountain, “Bring us the crystal!!! It is the ultimate power through time and space, a portal that will liberate us from this wretched existence forever!!”

The sister’s voices echo through the dim cave, a haunting chorus that stirs doubt in Raiten’s mind. Has she over-promised? Yet, the allure of the crystal’s power tempts her curiosity. “I will bring you your stone,” she replies, trying to hide her skepticism, “but my price is modest…nothing extravagant. All I seek is the powers of the prophets, to topple their temple and rid myself of their incessant meddling!”

The sisters exchange glances, their whispers growing fervent. They speak in unison, “Could she be the female prophecy foretold centuries ago? The link to elevate us to the surface?” Their excitement intensifies.

They continue to move in circles around Raiten. With a crusty giggle, Lorraine whispers to Esther “couldn’t have created a better scenario? Esther adds,”What a perfect situation.” Lorraine is ecstatic, she’ll eliminate the prophets and we obtain the crystal. When Jordyn finds out he’ll fall down dead… with our help of course. Then they speak in unison…

Two dead birds… with one stone…

They both laugh out hysterically.

Raiten, confused, not knowing what’s happening. Gets a sudden tap on the shoulder. Lorraine says calmly, “Just one condition.” And then Esther, “Yes, just one.” And then they speak together, their voices darkening. “You must give us something, a small offering.” Esther says, “Nothing big.” Lorraine adds, “You won’t even miss it.” And again, they speak in unison, their voices darken: “We’ll just hold it for you, until you get back.” They giggle like two evil schoolchildren.

Before Raiten can protest, the air crackles with energy as a spectral ritual unfolds. Thunder rumbles ominously, and the cave shimmers with flickering lights. Raiten feels an otherworldly force seize her; an ethereal image draws from her body. She transforms into a being that is part human, part spirit,an entity capable of roaming the surface, now endowed with the prophet’s amplified powers.

In a flash, a bottle materializes before Raiten, containing swirling mist. She looks at it closely… and it looks back, it is a silhouette of herself trapped in the misty bottle. Her essence floats helplessly yearning for its host. When suddenly it rushes towards her striking the inside of the bottle surface, startling her. Raiten drops down to one knee. Powerless to do anything about it,she bows her head in obedience, her cloak draping over her like a veil. The bottle slowly floats into the distorted hands of the sisters. They speak simultaneously with the rhythm of a ritual. “This is your soul; it will remain with us until you fulfill your end of the bargain. Should you fail to return within seven days…not a second more, not a second less…you shall lose all earthly privileges, transformed into a spirit of forsaken mist. You will exist, but no longer as a human. Your hunger will be insatiable, compelled to serve our will, collecting souls to deliver unto us. Your time started when you first stepped foot into our realm,”

Raiten lifts her head, pulls her hood back, and says. “What do you mean, when I first got into your realm?” Raiten holds up her hand and begins to count her fingers, trying to figure out how many days she’s been here. Now flustered, Raiten says, “How am I supposed to know how long I’ve been here? You got a clock, a sundial, or something? You gotta give me a couple more days. If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have taken so much time in Crystal City. I admit it was a nice place to hang out, but you should’ve said something.” Lorraine cackles loudly with a thunderous roar. SILENCE!!! The sisters declare, “Return with the crystal in the time allotted, for this pact is unbreakable. Now, go!!” Esther clenches her fangs and smiles uncomfortably. Waving at Raiten, she whispers to her, “This time limit was not my idea. It was my sisters. Lorraine overhears and cackles, shut up Esther, go dust something.”Esther, how dare you oversize ostrich.

Raiten feels herself lifted, a bridge from the underworld unfurling beneath her, guiding her skyward into the inverted waters overhead. Like an arrow released from a bow, as she shoots through the liquid realm and bursts forth onto the surface she could still hear the two sisters bickering below her.

Chapter 55

Guess who’s coming to dinner?

The blazing sun presses down as she treads water at the mountain’s base. Raiten swims ashore, greeted by a familiar figure. A wave of relief washes over her; it’s Rebellion, kicking and stomping joyfully. Slightly disoriented, Raiten feels as if waking from a deep sleep.

Her only thought now is how wonderful it is to see her beloved horse. She rushes forward, excitement in her eyes, wraps her arms around her, and gently rests her head beside hers, sharing her wet hair with her mane. Though soaked, the water has washed away the dirt from that harrowing tunnel collapse.

Tears swell in her eyes as emotion surges. Softly, she whispers, “How did you know I’d be here?” Rebellion shakes her head. Raiten smiles, “You’ve always had a knack for finding me when I need you the most. I feel like I’ve been sleeping and I’ve just woken.” Rebellion snorts softly. “ I promised you I’d come back.” Those words stir memories…giving Rebellion’s reins to Barberous to avoid her from the pain of watching her icy ascent on the mountain face. She lifts her gaze to the midday sun and the snow-capped peaks. Staring blankly, she murmurs, “Yes, I remember now.” Bits and pieces start returning…Himirith’s cozy house, the frozen wasteland, fallen warriors trapped in endless suffering, the mysterious crystal city, the tunnel collapse, and the sisters’ nightmare.”Did this really happen, or was it just a dream?” she wonders, feeling surreal…like an old folktale coming to life. “Who would believe me? There were no witnesses.” Then her thoughts drift to Egthomas and Mrutus, and the sisters’ cruelty toward them. Tears stream down her face, shifting to anger. She recalls the prophets, the trail of these events leading to this moment. As anger builds, so feels a strange sensation inside her. She looks at her hands, curling her fingers into fists. A surge of power pulses through her arms, spreading across her entire body. An awakening is

happening…indescribable, yet undeniably real.

Raiten needs to test her newfound abilities. It’s her proof that this isn’t a dream . Anxiously, she scans the clearing, she says, “maybe I should start on something small like that little tree right over there.” but then she spots this gigantic baobab tree that must’ve been thousands of years old. Its roots run deep. She says. “Well, if you can’t go big time, don’t go at all, let’s go for it. Let’s see if these powers really work.”

She remembers how Centra wielded her hands on the battlefield. She mimics her movements, aiming her palms at the old tree. A gust of wind stirs as she concentrates. Leaves lift and swirl, branches bend with the rising wind. Feeling bolder, Raiten pushes further, focusing intensely on the tree. Suddenly, a burst of energy erupts from her hands, rocking the tree at its roots, bending backward until it dislodges from the ground, and into the air, followed by a couple of small trees fading into the distance.

Awe strikes her as she looks down at her hands, then at Rebellion…who’s become completely still. “Whoa, is this cool or what?” Now she knows what she must do. The sister‘s voices echo in her head: “Not a second more, not a second less.”

The clock is ticking, fueled by purpose, she feels a burning desire for revenge awakening inside her.

She swiftly mounts Rebellion, grips her reins tightly, guiding her in the direction she wants to go. Glancing back into the pond, she sees the reflection of the hideous creature that waits for her at its bottom. She says, “I’ve never destroyed a monster before, but there’s always a first time.” She looks at the path ahead and declares, “OK, Sherman… guess who’s coming to dinner?”

Chapter 56

Strange behavior

Since Raiten’s daring ascent onto the cliff ledge alongside Egthomas and Mrutus, an unsettling silence has fallen of warrior camp. Five sunsets have vanished behind the horizon, and with a heavy heart, Barbearus makes the painful decision to break camp and begin the arduous trek back to their homeland. The months of relentless travel have sapped the warriors’ strength; the brutal winter has left its mark, and now their longing to reunite with loved ones weighs heavily on them. Barbearus can’t shake the gnawing feeling of failure. He inwardly laments, ‘It’s my fault. I should’ve never let her go. I should’ve fought harder to keep her from risking everything. What kind of captain of the guard fails to protect his Queen?’ A sense of despair grips him as he gazes back at the distant mountains fading into the haze. Bitterly, he mutters, “How can something so beautiful harbor such death?” Suddenly, one of his warrior’s cries out pierces the air, “Look!’ as he points toward the horizon. Barbearus squints, studying the strange scene: dust swirling wildly across the plain, lightning flickering within the storm. The swirling cloud moves with unnatural speed, faster than any beast or man could run. Abruptly, it shifts course…heading directly toward them. Instinctively, Barbearus shouts, “Warriors, dismount! Prepare yourselves! We face another demon!” Just as the dust storm is about to engulf them, it halts abruptly…right in front of their eyes. Barbearus, spear in hand, commands, “Who goes there? Who dares stop the Queen’s guard? Show yourself!” As the dust begins to settle, the silhouette of a Horseman and its Rider emerges. The horse rears fiercely, exhaling a powerful gust. Barbearus blinks twice, eyes wide with disbelief. “By God’s sacred ancestors, it’s our Queen!” he gasps. Raiten responds calmly, “Yes,”Barbearus, “it is I:” Overcome with joy yet hiding his true feelings, Barbearus steps forward to greet her. Raiten raises her hand, halting him. “Do not touch me or Rebellion,” she warns. “We have been spiritually elevated.” She holds her spear aloft, which emits a gentle, glowing light. ‘We are no longer merely human but celestial beings, poised to reweave the fabric of Destiny.’ A radiant aura surrounds her, emanating mysterious, invincible power. Clearing her throat, Raiten declares, “My quest continues, and I now possess the power to unleash my revenge.” The warriors kneel and bow their heads in reverence. Barbearus, trembling, asks, “My Queen, what of Egthomas and Murtus?” Raiten’s voice sharpens, “Who?” Confused, Barbearus clarifies, “Your warriors, our guards you took with you.” Raiten hesitates, contemplating, then finally says, “Oh, those two. They didn’t survive.” She scans her surroundings, seemingly distracted. Barbearus, his voice pleads, “Your Highness, please, tell us what happened.”

Raiten’s expression flickers with annoyance as she speaks rapidly. “Okay, their noble quest is over. They protected their queen with honor. Now they’re with their father in the realm of the spirit warriors.” She throws her hands into the air and adds with a grin, “And all the good stuff that happens when you… go there… wherever that is.” The warriors murmur among themselves, unsettled by Raiten’s strange demeanor. It seems that when the sisters took her soul, they also stole her compassion and a piece of her memories. Raiten steadies Rebellion and asks, “By the way, does anyone know what time it is? I’ve been stuck in the dark realm for a while and I’m still on spirit time…lost track.” Barbearus and his warriors exchange confused glances. One warrior shouts, “It’s almost dusk on the fifth day since we last saw you.” Raiten points at him sharply and replies, “Good man. That’s exactly what I needed to hear. I’ve got a little deadline, and I’m trying to figure it out.” She gazes at the sky, beginning to count. “Let’s see… that gives me roughly a day and a half. Damn those sisters and their clever tricks.” Barbearus steps closer, concern flickering in his eyes. “My Queen, you must be exhausted from your journey. Why not rest?” Raiten dismisses the idea. “Rest? I don’t feel tired.” Leaning toward Rebellion, she whispers, “Do you feel tired, my love?” Rebellion neighs confidently. “You see, we feel great! Okay, everyone, I’m really going to miss you… but I’ve got to hit the road.” Her followers brace themselves and step backwards. Raiten bursts into laughter. “I’m not actually going to hit the road! It’s just a figure of speech. All her warriors look at her with a blank stare. Raiten says, “anyway.” Without warning, Raiten turns Rebellion and soars like an arrow, streaking up the canyon hillside, leaving a trail of dust behind. Her entire personal guard stands spellbound, watching her vanish into the distance with a mix of awe and bewilderment.

Chapter 57

Heads up

Raiten eagerly sought an audience with the prophets. As their powers surged within her, she gained the ability to see and know everything they did. She guides her horse through the rainforest and into a serene clearing and is greeted by the sight of an incredible vision of nature. A flowing river with its waters tumbling down into a vibrant waterfall. A cascading waterfall, arches up through air, casting a brilliant rainbow of colors that shimmer as the water descends. Its force is impressive, even for Raiten.

“This is it, my darling. If my instincts are correct, the entrance to the prophet’s domain is hidden inside that cave behind the waterfall up ahead.” She dismounts, turning her attention to her horse, “You’ll be safe here.” She tightens her reins around a sturdy tree branch. “This is as far as your journey can go. Things might get a little rough up there, and I wouldn’t want you caught in the crossfire. Still,” she gestures toward the majestic waterfall and the peaceful surroundings, “just look at that view.” Rebellion kicks her feet and shakes her head. “I know, I know, we’re running out of time. I’ll make it quick.” Raiten’s mind flashes with visions of all the ways she could punish the prophets to satisfy her revenge. She draws her spear from Rebellion’s black saddle and remarks, “Not too quick.” With a tender farewell to Rebellion, Raiten effortlessly skips up the rocky wall and hops onto the ledge by the waterfall. Waving her spear at the rushing water, she commands, and the waterfall obediently parts its powerful walls to let her pass. She nods with satisfaction and strolls through without even a splash. “You know,” she muses, “I could get used to a lifestyle of having power like this.”

Following the narrow walkway, she presses forward, passing the Stillwaters and thick vegetation that cling to the rocky walls. Stepping into the cavern’s gaping mouth, Raiten’s keen eyes sweep over dimly lit space. Thanks to Asha, the source of her heightened vision, everything is crystal clear.

In a shadowy corner, something protrudes from the hanging foliage. As she approaches, she sees the reflection of something metallic beneath the thick leaves. She pushes aside the foliage with her spear and discovers a rack of weapons. Raiten smirks, “Are these yours, little flower,?” her voice teasing as she refers to Deanrdra: In a flash, Raiten yanks a metal spear from the rack and hurls it across the cave with deadly precision, aiming at a rock wall adorned with stick figures scratched into the surface. The spear strikes the circular-headed figure just off center. “Not too bad,just a little off balance… just like you, my little flower,” she whispers. Memories of her first encounter with Deandra flood her mind, remembering how easily she exposed her weaknesses. Raiten’s lips curl into a cunning smile. “Your impatience will be your undoing,” she murmurs softly. She admits, “I prefer a wooden spear myself.” Her attention shifts to a mysterious mound draped in cloth. She sticks it with her spear and raises the fabric to reveal a cape. An unexpected aroma wafts to her…familiar and enticing. Curious, she sniffs it, her senses on high alert. “I’ve smelled this before.”A sudden realization hits her. “Sherman, you stinky fool…you just can’t get the scent of old wet flowers off you.” With a contemptuous flick, she tosses the cape aside. Beneath it, she sees skeletal remains. Without hesitation, she comments, “Well, look what we have here. Sorry to wake you, old boy. Seems you’re all alone. I’ll tell you what, I’ll bring you some friends to keep you company. Just keep your head on your shoulders until I return.

Raiten chuckles, forcefully kicking

the bony remains, causing its head to snap off and roll across the ground.

She moves around the cave, inspecting the walls carefully, sensing that the entrance is close. Spotting a discoloration beneath hanging vines, she quickly clears them away to reveal a jagged crack with a strange lock at its center. With a flick of her spear, the lock shatters, and the jagged rock crumbles, opening a passage. Before her, a grand marble staircase spirals upward into darkness. Pleased with her progress, she comments, “You’re gonna have to do better than this if you wanna keep me out.” Flipping her cape with a dramatic motion, she quickly makes her way up the staircase.

Chapter 58

A Plateau, Playground for the Gods

Raiten reaches the top of the staircase and looks out onto the plateau. She can’t believe her eyes. She had spent her whole life in the dusty Western region, while these so-called prophets lived in Paradise. The temperature is perfect here, even though the surrounding mountains are capped with snow. The beauty of the landscape is breathtaking, filled with lush surroundings, small limestone temples, meditation platforms, fountains, and statues resembling the gods. Fruit trees are abundant, offering peaches, figs, apples, and many other ripe, ready-to-eat treats. Flowers and vegetation thrive everywhere, adding to the landscape’s allure. Meditation and solitude areas appear at every corner of the mountain, each one overlooking a stunning panorama.

She says to herself, “A utopia for the spirits, a playground for the gods! I think I’m going to like this place.” Surveying the terrain, she notices three paths she can take. “Didn’t I just do this in the Cave of Lost Souls? I guess, Life is full of choices.”

Raiten closes her eyes, extending her hand, trying to connect with the Aurilite Crystal’s energy. “Okay, Sherman, where are you hiding ?” She scans to the right, then to the left, until she feels the crystals pulse. “All right, got it. Ready or not, here I come.” With her spear in hand, she confidently strides down the stone path.

After a short while, she spots a familiar face. It’s Rufus, lounging in front of a stone table, munching on a bushel of apples. She hears him muttering, “Sour, sour,” as he continuously takes another apple from the bushel, bites into it and shows dissatisfaction, tossing it to the side. Quietly, Raiten tiptoes behind him, tapping his shoulder with her spear.

Rufus turns slowly, an apple in his mouth, and shock fills his body as his eyes land on Raiten. He can’t speak at first, the apple blocking him, so he gasps, “Remember me, Big Hands?” Raiten says lightly. Rufus stands up quickly, spitting out the apple. “What are you doing here? I thought you were…” Raiten interrupts, “You thought I flew away like one of Asha’s birds, with my tail between my feathers? Let me show you how to fly.” Before Rufus can respond, Raiten’s hands grow five times larger than his. She strikes the ground with incredible force, sending Rufus and his bushel flying backwards. Helpless, he watches her wave goodbye as she shrinks in the distance, sending him crashing into a temple wall with a loud bang, raising a thick cloud of stone dust.

Raiten can’t help but cover her mouth and giggle innocently. “Oh my, that has to hurt.” Apples that Rufus had been trying to eat tumble down around him, creating a chaotic mess. Eventually, Rufus peels off the wall and lands flat on his face, covered from head to toe in smashed apples. Just then, a small squirrel appears, scurrying onto Rufus’s head. Nervously glancing around, it snatches a piece of apple and darts away. Raiten smirks, “How do you like those apples? Not too sour, I hope.” The vibration of the ground alerts Denandra and Asha, who are inside one of the small temples. They come out to investigate the commotion. As they walk down the path, they hear a rhythmic tapping. When they round the corner, they spot Raiten standing there, tapping her spear on the ground with a mischievous grin. With a flourish, she greets them casually, then slowly points her spear at the unconscious Rufus, an amused smile lighting up her face. “Hello, Asha! Surprised to see me; how’s the family?” Asha squints, her anger simmering beneath the surface. “I know how you love birds, so I thought it only fair to introduce you to some of my friends,” Raiten replies with a naughty grin. She waves her spear high in the air, and before Asha can react, a flock of squawking crows erupts in a chaotic frenzy, swooping down onto Asha’s head. Raiten strolls past the now hysterical Asha, casually remarking, “I’ll let you birds get acquainted.” Meanwhile, Denandra’s eyes blaze with fury as she stomps her feet and channels her inner warrior. “Oh, you’re so scary,” Raiten scoffs. “Are you going to beat me up, little flower?” Denandra’s anger boils over; she seizes a spear from a nearby rack and lunges at Raiten with all her might. With a swift leap, Raiten dodges, landing on the opposite side of a fountain. “You think you can catch me shorty!” Come on Miss Warrior, Let’s get it on, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Denandra lets out another fierce battle cry, swinging her spear overhead as she charges at Raiten. They circle around the fountain in a whirlwind of energy, Denandra’s relentless pursuit matched only by Raiten’s nimble footwork. However, as Denandra pushes herself to the limits, her battle cry starts to sound more like a squeaky, un-oiled door than a warrior’s roar. Raiten yawns uncontrollably as she darts past Denandra, tapping her lightly on the shoulder before speeding past her. Eventually, Denandra’s stamina falters; with a dramatic thud, she collapses, utterly spent. Raiten looks down, feigning concern. “Looks like, to me, little flower, you are wilting. Why don’t you rest for a while? I’ll be back later so we can play some more.” Raiten dramatically flips her cape as she saunters off. She surveys the garden, thinking , “Now, where’s Centra, that little fox?” Raiten’s eyes light up as she spots her in the distance. “There you are!”

Centra sits alone on a stone bench, lost in thought. She gazes into a pool of water with a melancholy expression. She looks as beautiful as ever, with perfect hair, porcelain skin, and green eyes like an angel. Raiten strolls over to Centra and sits next to her on the bench ,acting as if she is also melancholy. They both gaze into the water. Centra is in such deep concentration that she doesn’t even notice. Raiten asks, “Why the sad face?” Centra takes a deep breath and exhales. “I was just thinking about somebody that I kind of miss.” Raiten takes a deep breath and also exhales. “I know how you feel.” Raiten acts as if they are two high school girls missing their boyfriends. She shifts her position on the bench to face Centra, with a bit of excitement in her tone, “Is it possible he’s a short man with big hands and a big nose? Oh, and I wouldn’t want to forget about the MOLE. Maybe you need another swig of that love potion, and you could fall in love with me!” Centra is startled. She turns, locks eyes with Raiten, jumps off the bench, and becomes instantly furious. Raiten smiles sarcastically. “Himrith wouldn’t like to see you like this.” That makes Centra even more enraged. She immediately starts throwing wind balls with great force toward Raiten. Raiten easily swallows them, burps, and says, “Excuse me, just a little gas…must have been something I ate.” Raiten wipes her mouth. “You should watch that temper; it might get you in trouble one day, as a matter of fact, today’s the day!” With her arms outstretched, she spirals her hands in a graceful arc over the pool. Water surges upward, forming a mighty whirlpool that glimmers with energy. “Do you know what happens when a black girl gets her hair wet!? Centra looks puzzled, “Let me show you!” Raiten flips the whirlpool over Centra, ensnaring her in a wild, spinning cascade that gobbles her up. Raiten laughs and yells over the loud sound of the spinning whirlpool, “They say taking a bath is good when you’re upset! Centra spins upside down and out of control. Her hair, flying in every direction. Throwing her hands around in an unfriendly manner at Raiten. Raiten cups her hands together, framing them around her mouth and nose to amplify her voice, “It’s OK, you don’t have to thank me now. Whenever you get a chance!”

Chapter 59

The Domed Temple

Raiten looks back to admire the landscaping job she has just finished. Rufus is comfortably sleeping where she left him. Asha is being chased around by her lovely crows. Deandra is still exhausted, gasping for air, and Centra is left spinning hysterically in a watery whirlpool. Feeling sufficiently satisfied, she turns her attention to the dome temple in front of her. Somewhere within those walls is the crystal, and she intends to find it. Following the stone path leading towards the temple, she reaches the temple steps and slowly walks up to the top of the veranda. Two large wooden doors, serving as the only entrance,clearly marked with a line connecting to a circle. The sign is diagonally carved to represent the way of the crystal. The doors are slightly open. Raiten looks at the symbol and sneers. “What an unwelcoming sign. That’s no way to greet a visitor.” Raiten takes her spear and burns a line across the circle, representing her defiance against the gods. Looking at the modified symbol, Raiten tilts her head to the side and smiles. “Now that’s better.” With a sudden rumble, the clouds darken as the wind picks up. Raiten looks up at the clouds and says, “Why don’t you guys mind your business?” She uses her spear to push one of the doors wide enough to peek inside. Without any sense of danger, she pushes the door open and steps in. A grand entrance hall presents itself, with twenty-foot-high ceilings and polished stone floors. Raiten admires its elegance. The hall is built of white limestone and looks as clean as the day it was completed. “Nice architecture, I think I might live here.” Displayed in the middle of the entrance is a fountain, with a statue blowing water out of its mouth. “What a bad place to put a fountain. First thing that’s got to go.” Raiten walks around the fountain, and to her dismay, the statue slightly resembles Sherman. “I would recognize that face anywhere.” She thinks back to the night he rudely disturbed her sleep by rambling on…she thought it would never end. Raiten suddenly feels nauseous. “The thought of Sherman with water coming out of his mouth would turn anybody’s stomach.” Sherman banished Himrith for being a narcissist. “I guess it takes one to know one.” Raiten passes the fountain and steps into the central hall. The hall is filled with ancient African artifacts, representing hundreds of years of tribal traditions. She isn’t interested in a museum tour. She came here looking for the crystal. Her attention is immediately drawn to a gracefully shaped two-sided limestone staircase, leading up to an elegant balcony overlooking the entire hall. Another pair of double doors is located at the top of the balcony, also carefully crafted. Raiten looks up at the top of the staircase and says, “Well, what do we have here?” She quickly makes her way up the staircase and aggressively kicks the double doors open. The chamber is bold and circular in shape, much bigger than it appears from the outside. The grand dome ceiling has a circular void in the middle, with foliage hanging down from the edges. Daylight streams through the void to a pool of water that lies at the bottom of the chamber as the light shimmers against it. Encircling the entire chamber is an oversized stone walkway and balcony.

Bookshelves adorn most of the walls, with stacks of books of all different shapes and sizes. Between the bookshelves, oversized golden masks resemble the prophets, with various artifacts of war displayed on either side. Located on each side of the domed room are several doors that open onto the balcony walkway. ‘There must be some back staircases, hidden inside the wings, that lead up to these doors.’ Directly in the middle of the room is an extended island, accessible only from the balcony on the opposite side from where she stands. There, sitting in the center of the extended island, on top of a golden pedestal, is the Auralite crystal,the quantum stone in all its magnificence. Indescribably mesmerizing, it glows dimly. Even Raiten, a non-believer, has to wonder…is this a direct antenna to the gods? If the legend is true, the goddess Irimith herself created this crystal and placed it here, untouched by humankind since the day it fell to earth. Much bigger than she thought,it must be at least the size of three fists, if not bigger. Being in the presence of the crystal is indescribable,she can feel its power radiating as it fills the room. If someone stared at it long enough, its hypnotizing features could easily place them into a trance. Sitting on the opposite side, in front of a stone desk, is her talkative friend Sherman, deep in a state of concentration, writing on a piece of parchment that rolls off his desk and onto the floor at his feet. Raiten looks at the bookshelf behind him,it is full of rolls of the same parchment papers, thousands of them. Raiten speaks softly, “It seems like he’s been a busy little bee.”

Chapter 60

Battle of the Titans

Raiten stepped forward as her footsteps clicked on the stone floor. Sherman heard the noise and looked up immediately recognizing it was Raiten.

“I predicted you would be coming. I just didn’t know when.” Sherman stood up from his desk and started to conjure a spell. Raiten put her hand on her hip. “Not even a hello, maybe a little small talk. Is that the way to greet a lady,” Sherman smirked, “you’re no lady”. Raiten jokingly took offense. “Well let’s not get technical. Look, there’s no spell that you could possibly place on me that will stick’. But Sherman continued, lunging forward with his two hands as a focused burst of transparent air materialized heading in Raiten‘s direction. Raiten rolled her eyes, “why does everybody have to be so dramatic,” Raiten put up her hand to block the spell. But the spell was not for Raiten. The spell hit the Aurilite crystal, vibrating the air around it. Within moments, the crystal shrunk in size, small enough to fit in the palm of a hand. Sherman tried to move quickly enough to grab the stone. His plan was to shrink the stone, so it was easily transportable. Raiten now knows what Sherman intended to do. She pulled back her spear and said, “Did you predict this”? Hurling her spear with incredible speed, she pierced the shoulder of Sherman’s garment, pinning him up against the back wall. “OK, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way.” Raiten started walking around the walkway to seize the crystal. Suddenly, one of the doors slammed open blocking Raiten‘s path. It was Deandra, as she quickly used her spear to sweep Raiten off of her feet. Deandra dropped down into an offensive fighting stance, “you didn’t actually think it was going to be that easy now did you?” Raiten, now laying on her back, said, “You are the most annoying person I’ve ever met besides myself.” Raiten jumped to her feet and a martial arts contest between the two Titans began. Raiten was at a disadvantage. She didn’t have her spear. At the same moment,

Sherman was struggling to free Raiten’s spear from its pinned position. The spear was heavy and dense, making it difficult to handle. After several attempts, he finally managed to loosen it, and it fell to the ground with a loud thump. Now that Sherman was free, he intended to finish what he had started. Suddenly another door swung open next to one of the bookcases, but this time completely obliterating the door and frame into splinters. They’re stood Rufus, his big body filling the broken doorway. With fire blowing out of his nostrils in anger as apple residue still dripped from his head. He charged at full speed to join the ongoing fight. The beast of a man was not paying attention to what was in his path, which happened to be Sherman who was half his size. Like a charging bull, Rufus crashed into Sherman with all his might. Sherman, stunned, was hit so hard he spun like a top until he fell to the ground with a head full of stars. The combat continued, blow for blow, as Raiten was still too fast, her defenses were impregnable even with Rufus joining the fight. Sherman got back up on his feet, still dizzy. He tried to make his way towards the pedestal. He reached out and grabbed the glowing Auralite Crystal from its resting place, as it immediately dimmed upon his touch. From the corner of Raiten’s eye, she could see that Sherman had now obtained what she had come for. With an urgent push forward, she created some space between her and her two adversaries. Using Centra’s enhanced power of the wind, Raiten threw a powerful wind ball striking the banister and the pedestal where the Crystal was once sitting, sending vibrations throughout the entire temple, forcing artifacts off the wall and knocking Sherman off his feet again. The crystal in Sherman’s hand clumsily flew into the air and over the top of the stone balcony, unreachable as it headed to the bottomless pool of swirling water below. The fighting had stopped as they all watched the Crystal descend. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the Crystal floated through the air heading to the dark waters below. A shadow covered the light pouring in from the top of the dome temple. A winged figure appeared and used its voice to make its presence known. Swooping swiftly down, it grabbed the crystal stone in midair with its beak, turned back up and landed on its master’s arm. It was Asha, she was back and fully in control. Her falcon companion dropped the crystal into her hand, making a small thumping sound as it hit her palm. Asha with a half-smile looked at Raiten, “still getting the short end of the stick I see.” Raiten, with a flustered expression, quickly reached her hand out towards her spear lying next to Sherman. The spear started vibrating, making a tapping sound on the stone floor and suddenly lifted from the ground and flew directly into Raiten’s hand.

Raiten responded aggressively, “how about, I’ll show you how this short stick works.” Sherman made his way over to Asha. She handed him the crystal and said, “run!!!, we can handle her.” Sherman headed for the doors and down the staircase. Raiten, now furious, attempted to chase Sherman, but was blocked on all sides by the three prophets. With a defiant look on her face of vengeance, she took her staff and held it over her head. Preparing to cast the most fiendish spell she could possibly conjure. Using two hands Raiten twirled her spear above her head with incredible speed. Just when she was about to climatically strike the ground to activate it, another door swung open and everyone stopped to look up. Standing in the doorway was Centra, looking all disheveled, with her hair and clothing a mess. Her hair hung down over her eyes and onto her face. Centra yelled out loud. “Somebody’s going to pay, it took me a century to get my hair just right.”

The three prophets looked at Centra and with a blank stare shook their heads and turned their attention back to Raiten who shrugged her shoulders innocently.

Raiten’s demeanor shifted dramatically as she unleashed a thunderous roar, her spear crashing down onto the limestone walkway. The impact was so immense that it erupted with a crisp crack creating a spiderweb of damage into the ancient stone floor, sending shards of stone splintering outward and shaking the very foundations of the temple. A vibrant surge of energy coursed from the base of Raiten’s spear, pulsating through its length and culminating in a colossal blast at its tip. It illuminated the chamber with a kaleidoscope of lightning. The dazzling brightness exploded forth, shooting through the dome of the temple, piercing the growing dark clouds overhead —an awe-inspiring sight that even the gods could not ignore.

With an intensity that demanded

complete silence, an intense hush enveloped the moment. Every sound faded away as time itself appeared to come to a complete standstill.

Raiten declared, “Listen well! From this moment onward, you shall exist, but you will not truly live. Your very forms will dissolve, banished into the infinite realm of spirits. No longer will you walk upon the Earth. You may remain visible, yet you will be mere shadows among the living. This will be your purgatory, your chains of torment, your eternal home, until the end of time.”

As the echo diminished, the whistling of the wind took its place. Raiten had brought forth a small tunnel of sandy wind in the center of the chamber, swirling purposefully as it widened with every turn. Ignoring this mysterious intrusion, the prophets continued to move towards Raiten. But this was no ordinary wind, It was a spell of great magnitude. A strange light filled the room. Denandra cried out, “What foul sorcery is this?” With fierce determination, she charged at Raiten, her spear aimed directly at her heart. Raiten stood motionless and fearless waiting for Denandra‘s assault. But as Denandra propelled herself forward, an unseen force gripped her, slowing her to a near standstill. Gritting her teeth, she fought against the tempest of swirling sand that pulled her back. She stood frozen like one of her museum artifacts Except they were firmly fastened to a pedestal as she was not. She slowly slid backward on her heels as she couldn’t control what was happening.

Raiten smirked confidently, and with a flick of her finger, she effortlessly broke the tip off Denandra’s spear, the metal melting seamlessly into grains of sand.

Denandra‘s expression was one of shock as Raiten waved Goodbye. The spear’s shaft began to disintegrate in Denandra’s hands, trickling down to her body like a sandcastle succumbing to the tide. In an instant, she was engulfed, washed away into an endless sea of oblivion.

Asha, watched in horror as Denandra vanished into the swirling sand.

Her immediate concern was not for herself, but for her companion perched on her arm. She cried out, “Fly, hurry, go!” She lifted her arm, releasing the falcon into the air. Its Grand wingspan opened, flapping forcefully it attempted to fly upward out through the top of the dome, But the Sandy wind was too powerful, dragging it helplessly down into the mayhem of the swirling vortex. As Asha reached out to grab her beloved companion, they both disintegrated into nothingness.

Rufus clung tightly to the banister, as the sandy winds lifted him off feet.

He felt his body beginning to fracture, particles of sand breaking away from his form and forcing him to loosen his powerful grip. As the last remnants of his solid being floated away, he pulled out a piece of apple that was stuck inside his shirt and took a bite. His final words were, “Sour,” before he tossed it into the sandy mist.

Centra screamed as her hair got pulled in first, followed by the rest of her. The wind had no mercy as the spell had done its job. One by one, they were consumed.

Raiten stood firm and expressionless, holding on to the rail as her cape flapped in the wind that continued to spin faster and faster. Swimming in a sea of sandy mists, the prophets had now turned into ghostly spirits, spinning helplessly.

With a swift flourish, Raiten waved her spear once more, unleashing a surge of magic that enveloped each prophet’s ghostly essence, drawing them into the golden masks that mirrored their image. In an instant, they were ensnared, locked away for eternity—or at least until her spell could be broken. The air cleared, the wind stilled, and the once vibrant artifacts caught in the swirling chaos tumbled onto the stone walkway. Raiten walked over to Asha’s golden mask and tapped on the face. “How’s it going in there?” A ghostly silhouette of Asha appeared within the face of the mask, moving her mouth, attempting to be heard. Raiten, relishing the moment, leaned over and spoke loudly, “what! I can’t hear you. You have to stop mumbling.” Raiten moved a little closer. “Is that some kind of animal talk? Well, I don’t understand it. I really don’t have time to talk now, maybe some other time, and you got plenty of that. I’ll have to check my schedule and get back to you in like, 1 million years?” Raiten reveled in the moment with an evil delight. Then suddenly realizing why she was here. Raiten murmured to herself, “four down and one to go. Now, Sherman, where’d you go you little creep”.

Chapter 61

The flames of escape

Raiten heads for the dome room doors and down the stairs, to exit the temple. She’s running out of time, she hears the sisters’ voices in her head, “not a second more or a second less.” She has to get her hands on that crystal. Standing on the pathway in front of the temple, she quickly scans the area, seeing Sherman, in the distance, heading for the steps leading down to the waterfall cave. Above, the sky darkens ominously, rumbling with a deep, thunderous growl as jagged lightning arcs across the clouds.

Raiten hopes to stop Sherman or at least slow him down enough to catch up. She creates two colossal fists, larger than before.

Rearing back, she strikes the ground with all her might. The impact erupts like a volcanic blast shaking every stone chair, tablet, fountain, and temple from its foundations. Landslides break free from the Mountains of the Moon, covering trees and open gardens formed centuries ago. The thunder of the gods shatters the sky in anger. Even the dormant volcano begins to bubble. The earth trembles with such ferocity that the upheaval can be felt miles away. Raiten had transformed this once serene and beautiful landscape into a battered pile of rubble. The only thing left standing is the dome temple; everything else lies in ruins.

Sherman reels, unsteady on his feet, rocking back and forth, but somehow manages to reach the stairwell leading down to the waterfall cave. Shaking uncontrollably, the waterfall cave releases small rocks and dust onto Sherman’s head, making it hard to see. Sherman shields his eyes with his arm and pushes forward. Raiten uses her heightened hearing to track him; she hears wet footsteps splashing through the water, echoing with each step. She knows immediately where he is. Raiten plunges down the marble spiral staircase at lightning speed…Just as she arrives at the cave’s entrance, the doors slam shut with a thunderous bang… Sherman had quickly casted a spell locking the doors in his frantic escape. Raiten stands in front of the closed doors, “Sherman and your silly spells. You actually think this is gonna hold me back?” Raiten rests her spear against the wall and starts to rub her hands together at incredible speed, smoke begins to rise from inside her palms. She furrows her brow, squinting her eyes with conviction. “How’s about a little fire, Sherman?”

From inside the cave, the solid rock doors first turn red, then erupt into blue colored flames. The wall disintegrates as it slowly melts into molten rock, flowing into the pond, releasing hot steam while crackling sparks scattering throughout the air.

With a deafening burst, the doors explode into fragments, scattering debris across the cavern. As the smoke clears, the flaming figure of Raiten looms in the doorway. With unwavering defiance, she kicks aside the last piece blocking her path. Stepping onto the cavern floor, she waves her spear, quickly extinguishing the flames. Her senses sharpen; she hears Sherman’s desperate escape through the roaring falls. A sinister grin spreads across her face,as she melodically murmurs, “I can hear you.”

Chapter 62

The Transformation

Sherman quickly descends the steep, treacherous rocky wall and runs into the rainforest fescue. Raiten gives a familiar whistle, a signal only Rebellion knows, and Rebellion responds, coming to her side instantly. While mounting her, Raiten asks, “Which way did he go?” Rebellion points her nose in the direction Sherman is heading. Raiten nods approvingly, “Good girl, let’s get him.” Sherman glances back and sees Raiten closing in at a lightning-fast pace. With no options left, he realizes escape is impossible. Raiten is simply too powerful to confront alone. He must think of some other way to stop her and keep the crystal safe.

Raiten spots Sherman sitting calmly on a rock. His legs are crossed in a meditative lotus posture, his eyes closed in deep concentration. The crystal rests on his lap, still sparkling but not glowing like it did before. Raiten is serious this time; she has had enough of his nonsense. Drawing out her spear, She Reels back with the full intention of ending Sherman once and for all. Throwing it with precise accuracy, she knows she can’t miss. Sherman whispers incantations in a foreign tongue, leaning forward with both hands on the ground in front of him. Just as the spear is about to strike, he raises his hands to the sky. A wall of mist surges upward from the ground, reaching into the atmosphere. He lifts the crystal from his lap and holds it out before him. The crystal begins to glow intensely, emitting a powerful light as if activating Sherman’s spell. As the spear slices through the air, it collides with the wall of swirling mist, its fierce momentum faltering as it becomes ensnared within the foggy barrier. The spear fights valiantly, desperately trying to pierce the veil protecting Sherman, but the strength of his magic proves insurmountable. Yet, despite the overwhelming force, the spear breaks free at the last moment, its tip striking the crystal with a violent jolt. In that brief instant of impact, Sherman is unaware that a small shard of the precious stone breaks free. It tumbles into the grass beside Raiten’s now-diminished wooden spear, which his magic has transformed from a powerful weapon into nothing more than a piece of African Blackwood.

Raiten pulls back Rebellion’s reins as she stops at the edge of the mist. She dismounts and moves closer, and the mist parts wide enough to reveal Sherman sitting calmly on a rock with his eyes closed. He relaxes his lotus position, unfolds his legs, and steps down off the rock. He steps toward Raiten, standing face-to-face with her without fear. An unseen transparent barrier stands between them, surrounded by mist stretching out as far as the eye can see. She quickly reaches up and tries to grab Sherman by his throat, but the barrier blocks her movement, knocking her hand back. Sherman speaks, “Now you are trapped. You can’t penetrate this barrier, nor can you retreat to the ruins. The doors you demolished just moments ago are sealed with the same barrier that lies before you.” His eyes narrow. “Your spiritual powers have diminished; you have failed. You will be forever bound to this enchanted forest of light and mirrors. This is your prison. The deal you made with the sisters will hold true. You will walk the Earth as an eternal spirit of mist, serving their never-ending thirst for souls.”

Raiten, still standing before Sherman, hesitates for a moment. “Blah, blah, blah… another lecture. Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?” She hears a loud thud behind her and turns to see Rebellion had fallen to the ground. Raiten’s deal with the sisters is now broken; her time is up. Her final second passes, and the transformation takes hold. Raiten runs to Rebellion, placing her hands on her body, trying to comfort her as she quivers in pain. She looks up at Sherman with anguished tears in her eyes. “Me… I can understand, but why her… why her?” Raiten lays her head next to Rebellion, to reassure her, while whispering that everything will be okay. Moments later, the painful transformation ravages Raiten’s body as well. She collapses next to Rebellion as the agony of the transformation grips her. It inches slowly over the skins of their bodies, breaking down their flesh into millions of small particles, finally covering them with a veiled mist. Then it’s over; the pain ceases, their bodies are gone. All that remains are the empty spirits of Raiten and Rebellion. The two, open their eyes, rising up to stand. Everything around them, including themselves, feels different. They gaze at the world with their newfound spiritual eyes. Raiten checks to see if Rebellion is okay. She looks magnificent, as the mist intensifies her beauty. Raiten turns and steps toward Sherman as a trail of misty particles follows her. Sherman looks more delicious than annoying now, as she sees deeply into his soul. All the corruption of his life journey was revealed to her, making her feel… ferociously hungry. It is hard for Sherman to take his eyes off her. The enchantment of her presence is astonishing. She is still Raiten, but also something else… something darker. Sherman slowly opens his palm, revealing the Auralite crystal, its surface shimmering with unquestionable holiness. He raises it toward Raiten, and an intense light bursts forth from the stone, washing over her. The brilliance makes her feel weak and blinds her vision. She steps back and pulls her cape over her face; Rebellion feels it too.

Sherman proclaims, “Heed my warning.” He holds up the crystal for her to see. “Know that you can never look upon it or come near it again. It will weaken you and possibly destroy you. Your transformation to the dark side of magic is the opposite of what the crystal represents. You have become the negative to the crystal’s positive. The only way you can possess it is if it is presented to you by someone who is pure of heart and of royal blood.” With that, he puts the crystal in his pocket, ceasing its light.

Sherman, a serious expression, picks up Raiten’s broken stick and spear tip. Still recovering, Raiten rubs her misty eyes and points to the spear that Sherman now holds. “Hey! That’s mine! I want it back.” Sherman gives her a stern last look and turns to leave. Raiten, knowing there is no way to recover her spear, quickly concedes, pretending it was her idea. “It’s okay, I’ll let you borrow it for a while.”

Raiten asks almost humbly, calling out to him, “How am I ever going to get out of here? Who can break this spell?” He is compelled to answer. Sherman’s eyes roll back in his head and close. In a trance-like state, an apocalyptic vision is revealed to his mind. His brow furrows, as a word is emerging within him. Cloudy, he cannot make it out, but he knows it has a profound significance. He murmurs, “There will be another.” Confused by his cryptic reply, Raiten scratches her head. She yells after him as he runs off, “What the hell does that mean? Do you ever speak in full sentences? You know what your problem is? You’ve got no sense of humor!” As Sherman fades into the setting sun, Raiten shouts even louder, “And by the way, you look ridiculous in that fountain!” Turning back to her surroundings, Raiten feels the weight of her new reality sink in. As Sherman journeys into the unknown, he finds that his gift of prophecy is now blocked.

He cannot predict his own future. The lives of both Sherman and Raiten have been turned upside down. Yet, amidst the chaos, something precious sparkles in the lush grass.

Chapter 63

The Three Horatio‘s

Raiten affectionately strokes Rebellion and looks around the forest. “I guess this is our new home for a while. What should we do now?” Something rustles in the background. Raiten looks up and sees something small jumping from tree to tree; then another, and another. Raiten calls out, “OK, that’s it, come out…no more hide and seek.” Three little heads pop out from behind each tree. They are all identical creatures, almost human but not quite. They are very small and non threatening. The three little creatures approach and say, “We are gnomes, sent by the sisters to do your bidding.” Raiten gives them a blank stare. “You look like brainless underlings, with no soul, no heart, no will of your own.” The little gnomes reply in unison, “Yes, that’s us.” Raiten shakes her head. “I must be dreaming. OK, what do they call you?” The three reply, “Horatio one, Horatio two, and…” Raiten interrupts them before they can finish, “Don’t tell me…Horatio number three. Very original.” Horatio one replies, “What do you expect? We’re mindless.” Raiten thinks, gliding in a circle, her misty hand on her chin as her cape of mist floats behind her. “I think I get it. We’re going to capture innocent people in this forest of mirrors, luring them in or letting them wander in accidentally. I’m going to extract their souls, harvest their memories and you three, are going to take those souls and toss them into the pond by the waterfall, where the sisters can collect them. Then the leftover bodies will be transported into the mist, to walk aimlessly for eternity. Did I get it right?” The three Horatios answer in unison, “Sounds right to us.” Raiten shakes her head, “I think you guys are going to drive me crazy. They just stare. She murmurs to herself, “As if I’m not crazy enough.” Raiten mounts Rebellion and rides off into the forest of light, leaving particles of her essence behind her. Raiten leaves the three Horatios standing there; they yell out, “Hey, wait for us!” running after Raiten, waving their little, short arms.

Chapter 64

When One Door Closes

Sherman travels far, using the blackwood staff of Raiten, as his third leg while he attempts to navigate back to the Valley of the Kings. Exhausted, his clothing tattered and torn from his journey and his encounter with Raiten, he finally reaches the top of the ridge overlooking Kendra’s land by the Kinshasa River. Sherman hears the hustle and bustle of a vibrant society that soon he will join. He only has a short way to go as the sun begins to set for the fifth day behind him. Sherman sadly looks back, knowing that Raiten will always be waiting, and he can never go home. He wishes he could have saved his fellow prophets, they were his friends. They had sacrificed themselves to save the Auralite Crystal and him. He sees each of their faces in his mind, worried about their very survival. He reaches into his pouch, pulls out the crystal, and looks at it. Its light pulses dimly, as if to say it also misses its home. Sherman whispers to himself, “At least the crystal has been preserved, but at what cost?” Sherman blames himself for everything that happened and speaks out loud, “Look what I have done. I jeopardized the future of my own people. I brought this curse upon them. What a fool I’ve been. It’s all my fault. If only I knew what to do now.” Sherman falls to his knees and lowers his head as he begins to weep, squeezing the crystal tightly as a tear falls from his cheek onto his hand. The tear slowly makes its way through his fingers until it reaches the crystal resting in his palm. The sun sets, and the stars and full moon enter the sky. The crystal in Sherman’s hand starts to glow with more intensity. Light begins to shoot through his fingers as the crystal grows too hot to handle. Sherman drops the crystal to the ground and falls back, covering his eyes as the light becomes too bright. Below in the valley, the people in the village of Nuramba see this unnatural light sweeping over their homes, farmland, and over the Kinshasa River, ending at the foot of the spirit tree. The night sky becomes a new sunrise. The people come out of their homes and stop what they are doing to gaze at this celestial event. The light fills the halls of Kendra’s palace as she steps forward onto her balcony to marvel at this great wonder. For this is the light of Irimith, a sign from the gods. A beam shoots out of the crystal up into the night sky, touching the moon. After thousands of years, the way of the crystal,representing the line in the circle…reveals itself again for all to see. From the moment he was summoned by the white sparrow to the culmination of his entire being converging into this remarkable instant, his thoughts become clear. The word that Sherman could not make out standing in front of Raiten suddenly sharpens in his mind…the word he saw in the cave and wrote down on that parchment. The prophecy is revealed. With a feeling of hope and the power of the gods surging through his veins, he picks up the Auralite crystal, holds it above his head, and speaks the word out loud for the first time…“Zendara.”

Chapter 65

The future is passed

Hidden deep in the Forest of Light and mirrors in her underground lair at the foot of the Mountain of the Moon, Raiten remains trapped with her loyal companion Rebellion inside the realm of Sherman’s impenetrable barrier. Together, they linger in a strange, endless limbo, forced only to obey the sisters’ bidding. Aided by her three mindless followers, they ravage the countryside, absorbing lost souls and memories within their misty traps. Meanwhile, the Sisters of Illusion continue their sly schemes, determined to break Jordyn’s curse and seize their earthly throne once again. Raiten’s soul, being of royal blood, is a prize in their eyes. Instead of being discarded, they keep her trapped in a bottle…not to be used in their dark gardens, but stored in a cupboard among their other trophies. Back home in the Western Regent of House Monus, nestled in the Valley of the Kings, Barbearus reluctantly steps into Raiten’s place as King. As years pass, Barbearus rules with a softer hand, eventually signing treaties and trade agreements with the Eastern quarter, fostering peace for the betterment of his people.

Meanwhile, the prophets are confined within their golden masks in the ancient ruins. Though unable to leave their realm, they maintain communication with Sherman.

Centra of course, confined to such a small space, never stops complaining about her hair and nails to anyone who’ll listen… but no one wants to listen. With her hair in disarray, Centra shows her frustration, saying, “It’s difficult for a girl to get her hair just right in such a small space.” As for Sherman and the Auralite Crystal, the gods have other plans for him. He becomes a reclusive yet humble merchant, running a bookstore and providing herbal remedies to the people while also serving as a spiritual advisor to the royal family. The only two things Sherman keeps from his adventurous past are Raiten’s staff, spearhead and the Auralite Crystal. To protect the crystal, he crafts an elegant clasp at its tip,so that he can string it into a necklace.

Chapter 66

The Aurilite Crystal Amulet

It is midnight, the day before Queen Kendra is to give birth to her first child. Restless and unable to sleep, she is startled when a shadowy figure appears on her balcony. A cloaked figure steps out of the darkness into the moonlight, just enough for Kendra to see its silhouette. She is about to call her guards, but something makes her hesitate. Kendra asks, “Who are you? What do you want?” The figure pulls out a shimmering necklace from inside its sleeve, draping it across its hand and covering the Auralite crystal in the center with its fingers. The shadowy figure opens his hand and reveals the crystal, “This Auralite crystal will be yours. It is meant to protect your unborn child and the royal bloodline.” Queen Kendra responds, “How can I trust you? Are you a spirit of good, or do you have dark intentions?” She instinctively steps back and places a protective hand over her belly. The shadowy figure replies, “I am the last of the prophets; my brothers and sisters are all bound by a sorcerer’s spell.” The shadowy figure opens its hand, revealing a crystal inside a clasp tied to a delicate necklace. The crystal begins to glow, filling Kendra’s eyes and mind with visions of the events leading up to this moment. The shadowy figure continues, “This is the Auralite crystal, the light of Irimith, the one true beacon of hope given to us by the gods, and now I give it to you.” Kendra then realizes that the shadowy figure is speaking the truth. Within her vision, she sees her sister. Overwhelmed with emotion, she seizes the chance to ask the question no one has been able to answer since her sister disappeared. Tears well in her eyes as she pleads, “My sister, my sister Raiten. What has become of her? Please, tell me!” The shadowy figure’s voice softens as it replies, “There are dark forces at play, more complex than we can understand. Your sister, caught in their grip, is now one of them.” “No!” Kendra insists with conviction. “I refuse to believe she is lost to evil! She is simply misled. I vowed to my mother that one day, I would find her and bring her home.” Her tears stream down her cheeks, the weight of her promise pressing heavily on her heart. With a solemn gesture, the ghostly figure raises its hand and proclaims, “From one generation to the next, from Queen to Queen, the Auralite crystal must be preserved. It shall be passed down as destiny unfolds. The prophecy will reveal itself in time, and the crystal shall find its rightful master.” The figure sighs and gazes toward the star-studded sky in a trance. “A female child blessed by the gods will be born, heralding the prophecy’s fulfillment.” And as suddenly as it appeared, the shadowy figure vanishes, leaving Kendra breathless and questioning her own sanity as she collapses onto her bed, weeping for her lost sister. When morning comes, Kendra stirs, questioning her memories. Was it all just a dream? A sharp pain still lingers, reminding her of the life growing inside her, and urgency grips her. Sitting up, she notices something glimmering at the edge of her bed. There lies an exquisite crystal necklace reflecting the sun’s soft rays as it rises above the horizon. Clarity washes over her as she recognizes the significance of this gift. She decrees that from now on, every Queen bearing a child will wear this crystal necklace, creating a lineage protected by its power. With this law and the other governing laws set into motion by her vision, Queen Kendra transforms the land of Nuramba in the Valley of the Kings into one of the most prosperous regions in East Africa. That day, she has a son, who is named King. When he presents the crystal to his Queen, it becomes a powerful symbol of fertility and the protection of the royal bloodline. Yet, despite the years that pass, no female child is born… until.

The end of part one marks the beginning of part two: the birth of Amara Zendara.

AMARA ZENDARA

Book one:

The origin of Amara

Part 1: The Origin

The Country of Nuramba, in the continent of Africa.

Prophets

The Country of Nuramba

Zody and Amari.

Intro

With a click of his heels

A breath of awe.

Raiten‘s Revenge

A demon’s tongue.

Chapter 46

A Queen’s Wish

The serpents’ heads:

Choose wisely:

Chapter 50

The Inverted Waterway

I am no man

Guess who’s coming to dinner?