The sound of the warrior's feet as he came closer, was louder than thunder. Ije flinched, instinctively curling tighter around her newborn daughter. Her arms were weak, shaking violently, muscles torn from the agony of childbirth, but she held on—because there was nothing else to do. No strength to run. No place to hide. Only her arms, her body, and the love that burned in her chest like a dying flame refusing to be smothered.
Her blood soaked the floor beneath her, slick and warm. Ahaa's body lay just close to the door, contorted, eyes glassy and vacant—staring at nothing and everything all at once.
"No… Please no… oh my Ahaa… my Ahaa is gone."
The thought echoed in her skull, dull and disoriented like a scream underwater.
She could feel the warriors shadow loom behind her.
He seemed larger than before, his presence suffocating. She tried not to make any noise, her last withered try at protecting them. But it was all useless.
He was ready to finish what he started. He had shifted back to his human form, half naked and haggard from the fight but not deterred. The only sound he made was the grinding of metal as he dragged his dagger across the wall.
She swallowed hard and turned to look—She wanted to scream, but her throat was raw. Instead, her lips quivered open as she whispered, "Please… not her. She's just a child."
The warrior paused. For a moment, there was a flicker in his dark eyes—regret? No. Nothing. Only the void.
She's going to die, she realized. And there is nothing she can do but stall. But maybe… just maybe that's enough.
She shifted forward. Her legs screamed in protest, and her arms threatened to give way beneath her. Blood pooled beneath her as she tried to raise herself. Her child whimpered softly—too new to understand, too innocent to fear.
If I could just stand. If I could just shield her with my body… if he has to cut me open to reach her… then maybe she has a chance…
But her limbs failed. Her body collapsed forward with a sickening, exhausted thud.
The warrior stepped forward, raised his dagger, and with a hollow whoosh, the world stilled.
A thin gasp escaped her lips. Her eyes fluttered.
Then, stillness.
She did not scream. She did not fight. 'I am sorry…I am sorry… please forgive me for being such a weak mother. May the goddess have mercy and protect you.'
She died with her eyes fixed on her child. That was all she had left.
Ije had followed her husband in death. They had so much more to live for but the wickedness and blood thirst of one man had brought their lives to an abrupt end.
Her eyes closed.
The child tumbled from her limp arms, her tiny body rolling softly in the bloodied blanket, untouched by the blade. She began to cry—high, thin wails that echoed through the ravaged hut like a call to heaven.
The warrior turned his gaze to the child. No pity. No hesitation. Just the cruel, mechanical rhythm of death. He bent down, wrapped one thick hand around the cloth, and lifted her.
The child screamed louder.
The sword rose again.
"Stop."
The voice froze the air.
He turned.
Kambi stood deathly still as she watched the carnage unveil before her. The hunt had begun.
She had heard of Druala before. Her teachers called it the Pack of the First Wolves, where the wolf gods first came to Earth to unite with man. The land was richly blessed—its beauty unspeakable in words.
However, today, it was no more than a graveyard—a wasteland her father had chosen to commit atrocities and murder in, for his own satisfaction.
She wept for the poor souls that had been condemned to damnation—for families destroyed by one man's desire to feel power.
Cheta held her hands firmly. "Kambi… we should find somewhere to hide." His voice was as angelic as he was beautiful. He was an Obadari—eunuchs sworn to the royal family as protectors, normally dedicated from birth to service.
She turned slowly to him, tears running down her eyes. "Why does he bring death and destruction wherever he goes?"
The winds were soaked with the smell of blood and death. Her body trembled with something more sinister than fear.
"Whenever you feel afraid, always remember that I am praying for you at all times."
Mama's voice echoed in her ears.
She shivered.
"Please Kambi… snap out of it. We need to leave now, we cannot afford to get caught up in the midst of this chaos."
Cheta took her hand in his. The stench of blood and death was heavy in the air. Kambi questioned everything she had ever been taught. The goddess does not save; she sits back and lets her people suffer in the hands of evil men like her father. What then was the use in serving her?
Smoke and ash choked the air as the war drums pounded louder and louder. They were caught in the midst of the ruins, barely able to see their way as they ran. She tripped and fell into the mud.
It was a brief moment, but it felt like forever.
"Your Highness, this way!" Cheta shouted over the chaos, helping her up as they darted off the main path into the forest. Their breaths were shallow, lungs stinging, eyes wide with fear, clouded with smoke. Behind them, the screams of the dying tangled with the clash of steel and the cries of warriors. Kambi had never heard anything so terrible—like the world itself was being torn to shreds.
Branches scratched their skin as they stumbled through the thickets. Twigs snapped beneath their feet.
Fear was thick in the air.
Kambi's knees buckled again, but Cheta caught her just in time.
"Do not stop!" Cheta hissed. "We have to keep on…"
"I know…" she gasped. Her voice trembled. "I know."
The run seemed endless, but just like a spark of hope—there it was.
A hut.
Bodies of fallen men, women, and children lay all over. Smoke rose from all around, but it seemed that the warriors were already done with this part of the land.
There were no warriors in sight.
There was no one alive in sight.
Behind them, the sound of war raged on.
Kambi hesitated, but Cheta was already moving towards it.
"Cheta… Cheta wait! We cannot risk it. For all we know, there could be warriors lurking inside, ready to kill us!"
"Look at us Kambi, we are on their side! You are their princess. Surely, they would not dare to attack the True Heir of their Alpha."
'We are on their side.'
The words struck a chord in Kambi's heart. She was on the side of the murderers—True Heir to an Alpha whose favourite sport was conquering through death. No matter how much she tried to deny it, that was who she was!
The blood of a murderer ran through her veins.
"We have to risk it! There is no other way." Cheta's eyes scanned through the forest behind them as he spoke. It was his sworn duty as an Obadari to protect the princess with his life, even from herself. Right now, she did not need to be obeyed, she needed to be protected.
"Would you rather go back and have the warriors of this Pack greet you with a sword to your throat? They would not think twice to end your life when they discover who you are, Your Highness."
He did not give her the time to think about it as he dragged her off toward the hut, the sound of their feet squelching with every step as they hit the earth. But something was not right.
They could hear the sound of a screaming child just beyond the door. Kambi fought with everything in her to just turn back and run, leaving the child to its fate. However, the screams were piercing, horrific, and striking. It was clear that the mother of the child had fallen to the hands of her father and his warriors.
The child was alone.
Cheta hesitated, but Kambi gave him an assuring nod. 'What was the worst that could happen at this moment?'
The door was slightly opened, and Cheta reached forward and pushed it open, half expecting someone to charge toward them from behind. His hand reached instinctively for the dagger strapped to his waist. Kambi followed behind, holding her large sword as best she could, ready to swing into action and fight for their lives if need be.
'We are on their side.'
The words played over and over in her head.
Then they saw him.
Not the child first, but a man's body lay crumpled on the floor, eyes half open, a deep gash across his chest. Beside the bed, a woman lay frozen still on the floor. Her eyes were wide with horror as blood pooled below where she fell. Her wrapper was soaked in blood, but not all looked fresh. Whatever had happened here, this woman had been fighting for her life for so long, and life had given up on her.
But before them and the woman stood a warrior.
He was huge. His armor still glinting with blood, and his body riddled with scars. He was holding the screaming child, dagger raised—ready to end the child's life.
Kambi… just turn around and flee. Just run! He has not seen you yet. You still have time to leave.
The temptation to just turn her back was strong. Just turn back. There is nothing you can do to…
"Stop."
The air froze.
Kambi shook with fear and uncertainty. Cheta stood, blank with confusion. He had already accepted whatever fate would come to them. He stood protectively in front of his princess, his vow to protect with his life reciting at the back of his head. They looked so small in front of the towering giant. He himself, no more than thirteen moons in age. If they survived this, he swore to take his training more seriously and become the best warrior in the land, so he could stand strong and protect his princess whenever she needed him.
However, he doubted that dream was ever going to be realized. He was almost certain that they would die today, in this hut. Even their bodies would not be found until they had rotted to dust.
The warrior turned, startled. His eyes narrowed as he registered two intruders—dirty, breathless, small. He did not recognize Kambi. His eyes were thirsty for blood, and he was ready to kill all who stood before him and his satisfaction. He hesitated, arm still raised.
"Who are you to command me?" he growled, his eyes shifting between his human and his wolf's. All hell, threatening to let loose.
Kambi gulped hard.
She raised her sword toward him, forcing her hands with everything in her not to tremble.
"I am Princess Kambi, daughter of Alpha Amusu whom you serve—True Heir to his throne. You would obey my command."
Nothing.
He did not even flinch.
"I do not care! The Alpha commanded us to kill as many as we can. I would rather face his wrath than yours."
"But… but you have to—"
"I recognize you!" Cheta chipped in. Kambi had not thought through what to say. She had never used her authority before. Not like this—to save someone's life. She could not even save hers.
"Kele… surely you recognize me. Do you not?"
Cheta drew closer to him.
Recognition dawned on him. "YOU!"
"Yes, me… I know what you have been doing with one of the Alpha's Ekazaris. I know the child she carries is not his but yours. You know what the Alpha would do to you if he discovers that you have been having sexual relations with one of his concubines."
Cheta's voice grew stronger as he spoke. His eyes fiery with fury. Kambi was amazed at how versed he was with secrets and information. It was what made him feared and somewhat untouchable.
"What if I killed you here and now!"
"Why don't you try and find out."
For a moment, only the sound of their breathing and the faint cries of the tired baby could be heard. Slowly, he lowered his blade.
The baby let out a soft cry—no louder than a breath.
She was tired.
Kambi approached slowly but unsure. She did not know how much the warrior feared Cheta's words, and how much he was willing to sacrifice for it. She was afraid but she pressed on. Now she was closer, she could see the child more clearly.
Her breath caught.
So small. So innocent. So alive.
And yet… something else.
A pressure pressed against her chest—like something ancient had awakened within her. She was too young to understand, but she had heard her teachers and her mother speak about destiny, and how some people are sealed with a mark of destiny from birth. Kambi never felt like she was a person of destiny, but looking at this child here, she could see destiny in its cruelest form.
"She is one of them," the warrior spat. "She will grow and seek revenge. It is mercy to end her now."
Mercy?
Kambi's heart twisted. She had seen mercy turned into murder too many times this night.
She met his eyes. "She is not a threat. Please."
He hesitated.
Cheta glared at him hard, as though daring him to make a choice between the child's life and his future with the Alpha.
Kambi's mind was still at war with her.
What are you doing, Kambi? This is not your war. You are royalty, not a savior. You should not care.
But you do.
She stepped closer. "Give her to me."
Still, he hesitated.
Then, reluctantly, he lowered the child into her arms. His fingers brushed the princess's briefly. They were cold—not from the chill that lingered in the air, but from the absence of warmth within.
As the child nestled into her arms, the cries softened. The skin was marked with strange, swirled discolorations—like runes beneath the surface. Her eyes blinked open once—dark, knowing.
Kambi gasped.
There is power in this child. Not the kind that burns villages, but the kind that saves them.
She turned her back to the warrior and walked out into the clearing, the baby pressed tightly to her chest and Cheta following closely behind her.
Outside, the sound of death was still loud. Embers floated like dying stars.
"Wait…" the warrior called out faintly, desperation heavy in his voice. "About my relation with…"
"Do not worry. I will make sure it stays only among us." Kambi's voice had found new strength now that the child was with her. "But I will advise you to call off whatever it is you are doing, because if my father finds out, he would not be so forgiving."
"Here." Cheta handed her a jaguar's tooth he had gotten, which hung off the neck of the child's father, and her mother's matting pin which was still pinned to her mother's hair.
"There will come a time when she will need to remember. We need to make sure she does."
As they left, the hut slowly erupted in flames, consuming the bodies that lay inside. With that, Ije and Ahaa's story came to an end, and a new one was only beginning to unfold.
As the hut burned with angry flames, Cheta forced out a smile. He was unsure about the journey of raising this child. However, he was certain that whatever the princess wanted to do, he would make sure to fulfill it—even if it cost his life.
"What would you like to call her?" he asked calmly, his voice as angelic as ever.
Kambi thought for a while, shifting her gaze between the child and the flames before answering slowly.
"Airamara," she whispered.
The name sounded very distant. Cheta tried it on his tongue, but it kept coming out wrong. It was just like a strange song from a foreign language.
"What does that mean… what kind of name is that?"
"It is not a language known to us. It is a lost language I learned from all my studies."
"Oh… that is… it is a rare language indeed. What does it mean, my princess?"
She was silent for a moment, just staring into space.
"Airamara—born of war and fire."
Cheta widened his eyes in shock.
"It is a sad name," he whispered. The child had already gone through a lot, simply coming into this world. Now, she had to bear the weight of a name that may end up becoming her destiny.
Kambi nodded slowly.
"It is one indeed."
Airamara—born out of war, born out of fire.
But there was a meaning Kambi did not tell.
Airamara—'Born for vengeance!'