That very night—long after midnight, when Maroo should have been sleeping—four men knocked on Rami's door.
They did not announce themselves.
They did not wait.
The door creaked open, and the air inside the home turned cold.
Their faces were hidden behind dark masks, their bodies wrapped in heavy cloaks that swallowed the light of the oil lamps. They spoke little. There was no ritual. No comfort. Only grim efficiency as they lifted Shankeka's lifeless body from the floor and wrapped her in thick cloth, binding her away from the world as though she had never existed.
Rami stood frozen.
He watched every movement. Every knot tied. Every breath taken.
This was his secret now.
This was his shame.
And this was the price of his freedom.
As the men carried Shankeka's body toward the door, one of them lingered behind. He did not turn to face Rami. His voice was low—controlled—but burning with restrained fury.
"If it weren't for your mother being a member of the council," the man said, "I would take your head off your shoulders myself for what you did to Shankeka."
Rami's throat tightened. He said nothing.
"But for the sake of the village," the man continued, "we endure."
Then he left.
The door closed.
Rami remained standing in the darkness long after they were gone, his thoughts spiraling—replaying the last few days again and again. He understood now what he had done. How a single act could tilt the balance of power in Maroo. How secrets rotted from the inside.
And somewhere deep within him, fear took root.
The village did not sleep that night.
Just before dawn, a sound tore through Maroo like the cry of a wounded god.
A horn.
Not the warning horns they knew. Not the ceremonial calls of the elders.
This was louder. Deeper. Violent.
It shook the ground.
Rattled stone.
Split the sky.
People bolted upright in their homes, clutching children, stumbling into the streets as the horn sounded again—closer now. Stronger.
The vessel had reached landfall.
Morning brought only deeper chaos.
The search for Hakeem had failed. Shankeka was missing. And now the horn blasted again and again from the sea, louder than anything the people of Maroo had ever heard.
The council gathered what soldiers they could and marched toward the beach.
And there, rising from the shore like a black mountain torn from the depths, stood the ship.
It was enormous—seventy-five meters high, one hundred and fifty meters long. A fortress of iron and wood, painted black and crimson, adorned with gold emblems that radiated dominance and elegance in equal measure. Eight massive cannons lined each side. Two more sat at the front like the eyes of a predator.
Two hundred Marooian soldiers stood in formation.
They had never seen anything like this.
A section of the ship opened.
Twenty armed men stepped out, followed by a tall figure in a long coat trimmed with red and gold. He spun dramatically, arms wide, breathing deeply as if savoring the air itself.
"Well helloooo there!"
His voice carried effortlessly across the beach.
"Ahhh… undiscovered land," the man said, smiling. "Always smells so sweet to me."
The people of Maroo stared, confused and afraid.
The captain gestured, and crates were brought forward—tools, fabrics, metals—things the villagers had never seen. Then his smile sharpened.
"I want this," he said. "All of what you have. And also…"
He snapped his fingers.
Hakeem was dragged forward in chains.
His body was broken—whipped, bruised, bleeding. His face swollen beyond recognition.
"I also want people."
A roar ripped from the crowd.
Shaka charged.
Bullets tore into him—one, two, five—but he did not stop. Rage carried him forward as he crushed guards with his bare hands, snapping bones, tearing men apart despite the blood pouring from his wounds.
He reached his son.
Then his strength failed.
Shaka collapsed to his knees in front of Hakeem, trembling, bleeding, barely breathing. Captain Kirkland stepped behind the boy, revolver spinning lazily on his finger.
"You are truly incredible," Kirkland said calmly. "Shot ten times and still attacking. You are ten times stronger than a normal man."
Shaka lifted his eyes to his son.
In that moment, memories flooded him—Yewende's smile. Hakeem and Akem as children. Narobi and Afumi laughing in the sun. Love. Warmth. Home.
Captain Kirkland stopped the revolver.
Bang.
Shaka's body hit the sand.
"Father!" Hakeem screamed, tears streaming down his face.
The Marooian guards rushed forward—but they were gunned down in seconds.
"Well, that was stupid and reckless," Kirkland said, unimpressed. "Now you lot—you look like the ones who make decisions. Don't throw your lives away."
He pointed toward the village.
"I want all the resources. And some of you are coming back with us."
Hakeem was dragged screaming onto the ship.
The council hesitated.
Kirkland sighed. "I get it. Maybe you need inspiration."
A cannon fired.
The explosion tore the earth apart.
The council dropped to their knees.
The invaders came from the continent of Alcazar—a coalition of nations that had drained their world dry. Resources were scarce. Slavery was profitable. This conquest had cost them everything.
They marched into Maroo five hundred strong.
Those who resisted were killed.
Those who begged were ignored.
The elders pleaded for peace. The people submitted. And from the heavens above, the Goddesses watched—and withdrew their blessings from Maroo forever.
"Mum, I'm scared," Akem whispered, clutching Yewende's dress.
"Where's Dad?" Narobi asked, her voice breaking.
"I'm sure he's fine," Yewende lied. "Just listen. They'll leave soon."
They did not.
Families were torn apart. Screams filled the air. Akem watched as his mother and sisters were dragged away.
He grabbed a blade.
He stabbed.
A soldier struck him down, kicking him into the sand.
The commander stopped the execution. "We don't kill children," he said with a smile. "But…"
They chained Akem to a post on the beach.
"The tide will drown the little monkey," the commander laughed.
The ships departed.
The water rose.
It reached Akem's knees. His chest. His throat.
He panicked. He screamed.
And the Goddesses heard him.
They blessed the child with the power of nature—and severed their connection to Maroo forever.
Akem sank beneath the waves.
Then—
His eyes opened.