Mandla would have been lying if he said he was not worried about Zeon. I knew the gravity of the news he was bringing in front of the council of chiefs, but tradition would not allow me to treat it any differently than would everyone else. But without tradition, what would separate us from those who lived in the cities, not knowing who they were, or who their ancestors were? My heart nearly skipped a beat when Zeon began to scream and convulse in agony. I felt great pity for my unfortunate nephew; his life has been one hardship after another. Yet he had no right to question the will of the spirits. Instead, he watched with bated breath as black blood began leaking from his eyes and ears. Every omkhondo was unique in its own right, just as no soul is exactly the same, so too did the omkhondo change from person to person.
Whatever Zeon was going through proved to be quite the harrowing experience, just going from the bone-chilling screams currently escaping his lips. A strange presence descended upon the room as the black veins covering Zeon's body began to grow. The foreign presence was locked in a battle with the growing sense of death as its power grew to unprecedented levels. Just as it seemed like the foreign presence would win, another contender entered the fray, joining forces with the death mana to repel the intruder. Even the most dangerous of omkhondo's did not come near this level of strange. I always knew that Zeon was special, but this was beyond even my own expectations.
No matter what happened, we could not stop chanting lest they risked losing Zeon's soul within the spirit realm. Too many great warriors have been lost in such a way, so with growing concern, he continued his sacred duty. As the hours passed by, Zeon began to stabilise. A runic tattoo began to form on his right hand, and only after seeing this did I release a sigh of relief. The omkhondo had been passed, Zeon had been deemed worthy. What I did not expect was an onyx jackal to materialise next to the kneeling form of Zeon. Marking him as a member of the house of the jackal. I had always thought that Zeon was more like his mother; his gift was closer to the soul than death. At least that was what he thought until he saw the onyx jackal licking the blood off Zeon's face. The house of the crow was a symbol of those who possessed the rare element of the soul, while the jackal was an embodiment of death. Either way, it mattered little; Zeon had proved his worthiness, so now all that remained was to prepare for the great battle to come.
—
It was hard to describe in words what followed after my victory in the trial. The entire atmosphere within the ritual chamber was silent and oppressive, as if the world was still in shock at witnessing the birth of something new. The chiefs looked at me with newfound respect; the previous animosity was not gone, but it was far more subtle now. The only thing that remained was their hatred towards Zanele; they did not even try to hide their distaste for her presence. But as long as I was a respected guest here, there was nothing they could do but glare at her in silence. I decided to name the onyx jackal Anubis after the Egyptian god of death. He was a strange fellow, constantly getting distracted by the smallest things. He also had a strange aversion to touch, at least the touch of other people. He did not seem to mind when I stroked his pelt, but the second someone else even dared, he would react violently. His temper was second only to my own, but that was fine as long as he focused that temper on my enemies; it did not matter.
The white crow was an enigma in and of itself; it had the ability to make itself invisible at will. Where only I could see his snowy form. I dubbed him Odin, the all-seeing eye. Under the supervision of the elder Yala, I learned to harness the power of my guardian spirits. Well, spirit, seeing as they had no idea that Odin even existed. I had no intention of making his presence known either, as it should have been impossible to have two guardian spirits. The soul bond was for life after all, but having two souls made my circumstances slightly different. Not only was I capable of soul-bonding with two spirits, but they also mirrored my dual affinity. Anubis, for example, could channel a variation of my own black flame, with a greater focus on the aspect of death. It made living matter affected by it begin to rot and decay. While Odin could create soul constructs similar to my avatar ability, it was more than that. While Anubis was a warrior, Odin served more as a scout and spy. His ability to turn invisible allowed him to move unperturbed through enemy lines.
The fact that his runic mark was etched directly into my left eye allowed me to see through his eyes, making him an invaluable asset. The possibilities were infinite, one truth remained that I had become far more capable with them by my side. Yet all of this was only my personal development; the most important thing I have kept myself busy with in this time was the strategy meetings with the various chiefs. I served as an intermediary between Count Alister's forces and the Zulu tribes. As the days went by, the complexity and sheer enormity of the task we had to accomplish became ever prevalent. With the addition of the Zulu warriors, our resistance force had grown to four thousand in total. It did not seem very impressive if you considered the fact that we were facing a horde of twenty thousand beasts. But the bulk of that force was nothing more than cannon fodder, while every single human warrior was a seasoned veteran. Besides, we were not foolish enough to face the beasts in a direct confrontation. Instead, we opted more for gorilla warfare; our plan consisted of slowly but surely whittling away the number of the beast. So that when the time came to face them at our borders, they would be significantly weaker.
Of course, this strategy came with risks of its own; we would essentially be entering a death zone filled with hungry beasts that sought nothing more than to devour our flesh. But what choice did we have? By the estimates of the Hunter HQ, the horde would arrive within two months' time. It was barely enough time to even set up defences let alone start the covert operations. My brow was creased in thought as I sat in a cafe in Pretoria. I had returned only two days prior, but a very important call brought me here. I am speaking of Verity, of course, she had decided on a simple coffee date in an inconspicuous cafe in the centre of the city, close to a park. If I were being honest, I was quite relieved when I got the call; it was a necessary reprieve from all the grim strategy meetings I had been a part of recently.
One of my few solaces in these last few days was the reminder that I had something to fight for. It might have seemed foolish, I barely knew Verity, but she had already managed to break down some of the walls I had built around my heart. Just the memory of her smile brought a tingling sensation down my spine. To me, she was like a light within this increasingly dark world I called my home. I was sitting deep in my own thoughts when she entered. It took a second for me to recognise her as she was dressed very inconspicuously. She wore a black hoodie with a simple dark blue skirt with long thigh-high socks. To be honest, she looked a bit emo, or was it punk? I never really paid attention to these things, but it was breathtaking nonetheless. I had the feeling that no matter what she wore, I would have seen her as beautiful either way.
When she saw me, she graced me with a bright smile before moving towards me. I stood from my seat as any gentleman should do, and I moved her chair further from the table so that she could sit comfortably. "Well, hello there, gorgeous, and what brings someone as perfect as you to this side of the city?" My inhuman voice was filled with familiarity as I spoke.
She fluttered her eyelashes at me. "Ever the flatterer, I see Mr Whither." She said it more as a statement of fact as opposed to a question. Her forest green eyes drew me in further as I appreciated her beauty.
"When I look at you, I can't help but compliment you. It would be a sin for such perfection to go unappreciated." And I meant every word, she was simply breathtaking. Any man would be lucky to have her, but I was the luckiest of them all because it was I who was sitting here with her.
"Oh, enough with that." Her face assumed a pink hue at my words, but she quickly corrected herself. "So tell me, what has the mighty Duke Whither been busying himself with these days? You left so suddenly at my birthday party that we hardly had time to catch up." After that, the date began in earnest. We talked for hours at the cafe before deciding to take a stroll in the park when the sun began to set.
We talked about nothing and everything at the same time. What we talked about did not matter much, more the who made it special. The date was like a welcome reprieve from the endless hardship that was my life. In that moment, nothing mattered but the here and now. I enjoyed the warmth of her embrace, the feeling of her hot breath on my shoulder as we held each other. A part of me wished that the day would never end, but alas, all good things have to. So with a heavy heart, I met her lips with my own, having removed my mask mere moments prior. The kiss was filled with the passion and longing of youth, but even that was weighed down by responsibility. We both knew what this relationship would truly mean; the unification of two great households was no simple thing. But in that moment, all that I cared about… was her.