The cool touch of the ginger-infused coffee still lingered on my palate, a subtle counterpoint to the weight of the meeting with the head of the Rhines. His probing questions, the implied price of power, had left me with a mixture of anticipation and unease. The promise of strength, the chance to finally master the volatile currents of my okhuomo-gekido, was both a beacon of hope and a siren's call. As I turned my back on the elegant balcony and the lingering scent of night-blooming jasmine, my resolve, forged in the heat of conflict and tempered by the icy touch of a stranger's gaze, was absolute: I would become stronger. I would face the threats in my path, and I would find my grandmother.
My footsteps echoed softly on the polished concrete as I retraced my path, seeking out Sweet. The memory of the previous fight, the thrill of controlling my powers, and the unsettling implications of the "trivial" mission still pulsed through my veins. The orchestrated nature of everything, the feeling of being watched, analyzed, made my skin crawl. But the prospect of mastering my emotions, of truly becoming a weapon of justice, was an intoxicating draw.
I found Sweet leaning against a support beam in a less trafficked corridor, his usual stoic expression replaced by a subtle, uncharacteristic… vulnerability. He seemed lost in thought, his usually sharp gaze unfocused.
"Sweet," I said, my voice cutting through his reverie, a question burning in my gaze, "who isKiyoshi Ziv Bazuaye really?" I deliberately used his name, finally breaking the facade of anonymity. I needed to understand the man who controlled the Rhines, the man who was offering me power at a price. I needed to understand what I was walking into, and what I was agreeing to.
The sudden mention of the name seemed to snap him back to the present. He straightened up, his eyes suddenly sharp, his features carefully composed. The brief flicker of vulnerability had vanished, replaced by the familiar mask of stoicism. "It was a very teeming moment," he finally began, his voice low and measured, betraying a hint of his inner turmoil. The words themselves felt like a heavy burden, a story he clearly preferred to keep locked away.
He paused, then took a deep breath. "Kiyoshi Ziv Bazuaye is… complicated," he finally said, his gaze fixed on some unseen point in the distance. He walked a few steps away from the beam, his movements controlled, as if trying to keep a level head. "He's from a native tribe that was separated from Noekyota. Before the rise of the current regime, Noekyota was once a thriving kingdom, ruled by the Bini Dynasty, a lineage now all but erased from historical records."
He closed his eyes for a moment, and I sensed a surge of pain, an emotional wave that barely brushed my defenses. It was a glimpse into his own internal struggle, a reminder that Sweet himself was haunted by his past. This information was clearly painful.
"They were called the Ora," Sweet continued, his voice barely a whisper, as if the very name held a sacred, yet tragic, weight. "Birthed by the King who killed his own brother to gain power over the throne. They were banished for his crimes and forced to flee the city. They are now known as the Hedeem's Bones." The harshness of the term, a title dripping with bitterness and sorrow, painted a grim picture of their fate.
The Hedeem's Bones. The name resonated within me, a haunting symphony of pain and abandonment. I thought of my own lineage, the Okonogie family, a bloodline shrouded in its own darkness and deception, and I understood, at least on a basic level, the kind of betrayal this man must have endured.
"The Ora... The Hedeem's Bones," I repeated, feeling a chill run down my spine. "What does it mean?"
"They've held onto their hatred and resentment for centuries," Sweet said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion, a desperate attempt to maintain his composure. He took a few deep, steadying breaths. He had clearly rehearsed this story, yet the words still carried an unbearable weight, the resonance of trauma etched into every syllable. "It's been passed down, generation after generation, a legacy of pain and fury. They believe they were the rightful heirs to the throne of the Bini Kingdom, betrayed and cast out by corruption and violence. The lineage and culture of their people were stolen, erased from the annals of the city. Their hatred has grown over many years, and they vow it will not be lost. They're determined to reclaim their birthright, no matter the cost."
He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture betraying a rare moment of vulnerability. His composure, usually as unyielding as granite, had started to crack, and I realized he was teetering on the edge of a precipice.
"Kiyoshi Ziv Bazuaye founded the Rhines," Sweet continued, his voice barely audible, his words trembling, "founded the family of the Rhines based on his hatred on Mileena's and, most especially, the unknown king of the Noekyota kingdom." It was a history soaked in blood and betrayal, a tale of ambition, jealousy, and the devastating consequences of unchecked power. His face was a mask of sorrow. "He was born into a poor family on the fringes of the city, one of many families that lived in constant struggle." He paused. "The tragic fact is, he was the only survivor of a Mileena attack. The details are... unspeakable. His whole family... annihilated."
The weight of the untold story crashed over me. I tried, but could not even begin to imagine the horror. The Mileena threat—the reason my grandmother had to go into hiding, the catalyst for my own transformation—was now inextricably linked to this man's core identity, his burning desire for revenge.
I waited patiently, understanding that this was a story that needed to be told, a burden he had carried for far too long. "I'm so sorry, Sweet," I finally said, my voice barely a whisper. The weight of his pain felt crushing.
He nodded, his gaze distant. "At 14 years old, he discovered that his parents had been reduced to slaves in the palace of the king of Noekyota, the one responsible for the decimation of his family and the forced exile of the Ora. He felt the betrayal. He couldn't come to terms with it. His mind snapped. Driven to a madness that only pain can produce, he orchestrated a major event to destroy the palace." He closed his eyes, and then continued in a low, gravelly voice, "He was forced to fight his way out, barely escaping with his life and vowing revenge."
He took another deep, shuddering breath, trying to regain his composure. "He formed the Rhines at 18," he said, his voice gaining strength, his pain channeled into a steely resolve. "His goal was to collect information through us, and to exert his revenge on those who wronged him and his family. He needed leverage, influence. Power, both overt and covert, and we were one part of that machine. The information, power, and secrets, used to exact his righteous retribution."
A tidal wave of understanding washed over me. The offer of training, the probing questions, the implied price. Everything now fell into place. He sought to use my powers as a weapon, to help him achieve his goal of exacting vengeance. He saw the fire within me, the same rage that had consumed him, and he wanted to harness it. He saw me as a means to an end.
"Why, Sweet?" I finally asked, the question a whisper of sorrow and understanding.
He met my gaze, his own eyes mirroring the pain that had become his constant companion. He let out a strained sigh, the expression of pure emotion that now lay on his face cut deeply into my soul. "Because they took everything from him," he said, his voice raw with pain, "He was abandoned, alone. Because his family deserves justice. And because it's the only thing left that matters." The weight of years of silent suffering was released in his next word, a single expression that rang through the now quiet corridor. "Revenge."
The words hung in the air, a stark declaration of intent and the genesis of pain, the legacy of a shattered kingdom, and the desperate cry of a man consumed by loss. It was then, standing in the cold light of the hidden base, that I understood the true depth of the price I might have to pay for Kiyoshi's training, the true cost of embracing the power within me. I had to decide if, for the sake of becoming strong, I was ready to embrace his fire and walk that path of devastation. I had to decide if my quest to find my grandmother would lead me to a path I could never turn from. This was a choice that I would have to make, whether I was ready to face the music or not. And whatever my choice would be, I was certain that it would forever change my life. This was the burden I chose to accept.