The night was eerily silent. The oasis, usually a place of peace, felt suffocating under the weight of uncertainty. Zaria sat near her horse, sharpening her blade, her mind tangled in Adu's warning. If the attack had been staged, then someone within Zambura wanted war. But who? And why?
A rustling sound snapped her from her thoughts. She gripped her dagger and turned swiftly. A shadow moved between the palm trees.
"Show yourself," she commanded, her voice steady but sharp.
A figure stepped into the moonlight. It was Adu. His expression was tense.
"I didn't want the others to hear," he whispered, glancing around. "I found something."
Zaria stood. "Speak."
Adu handed her a small piece of cloth. It was silk, embroidered with a golden lion. Zaria's heart clenched.
"This is from the royal court," she said, recognizing the symbol immediately. It belonged to a noble family—one with close ties to her father.
"I found it near the village ruins," Adu said. "Someone from Zambura was there, Princess."
Zaria stared at the cloth, her grip tightening. This was no longer just about Zolm. Someone in the palace was playing a dangerous game, and if she didn't uncover the truth soon, her entire kingdom could fall into chaos.
She met Adu's gaze. "Not a word to anyone. We ride at dawn."
Adu nodded and disappeared into the shadows.
---
A Cry to the Gods
Later that night, unable to rest, Zaria walked alone to the edge of the lake. The water shimmered beneath the moonlight, her reflection rippling with every soft breeze. The weight of her duty pressed heavily on her chest. She thought of the village, the bloodied sand, the betrayal that lingered like a shadow behind her.
She fell to her knees, hands trembling as they touched the cool water. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and let the pain inside her escape in the only way she knew how—through song.
Her voice rose softly at first, a whisper carried by the wind. Then, with every note, it grew stronger, the sorrow in her heart shaping each word.
Zaria's Song (Translated from the Ancient Tongue of Zambura)
"Oh, great spirits, hear my cry,
Beneath the stars, I kneel and sigh.
The earth is torn, the winds grow cold,
Will you guide me? Make me bold?"
"I was born of fire, of storm and sand,
Yet fear now holds my trembling hand.
If I must lead, then give me light,
Let my blade shine through darkest night."
Her voice wavered, raw and full of grief. A few feet away, her warriors stirred, awakened by the haunting melody. Some sat up, watching their princess with silent reverence. Others, feeling the weight of her plea, bowed their heads.
Zaria's voice grew louder, her song no longer a whisper but a command, a desperate cry to the heavens.
"The rivers weep, the mountains fall,
I hear the drums, I hear their call.
Blood will stain the morning sun,
But tell me, gods, what must be done?"
Tears welled in her eyes, but she did not wipe them away. She let them fall into the water, rippling her reflection, as if the gods themselves were answering.
"I am but one, yet I must stand,
To guard my home, my father's land.
If war must come, then grant me might,
Make my path a blade in night."
A deep voice joined hers—then another.
One by one, the warriors of Zambura began to sing, their voices weaving into hers like strands of fate. Together, they transformed her sorrow into something greater. Their voices shook the air, the sound echoing through the oasis like the chant of an army before battle.
"Oh, great spirits, hear our cry,
Under moon's watch, we swear to fight.
The storm is near, the battle calls,
Stand beside us, lest we fall."
The song swelled, growing deeper, more powerful.
"Let our spears be swift as flame,
Let our foes remember our name.
For we are sons, we are daughters,
Born of blood, steel, and waters."
The final verse was sung not in grief, but in defiance, their voices blending into a chorus of warriors ready for war.
"If fate is cruel and shadows rise,
Then let them meet our burning eyes.
For we shall fight, we shall not kneel,
With sword in hand and hearts of steel!"
Silence followed as the last note faded into the night.
Zaria stood, turning to face them. For the first time, she saw not just warriors of Zambura, but men and women who had chosen her. Not because she was the king's daughter. Not because she had power.
But because she was their leader.
Adu stepped forward, his expression unreadable. Then, he dropped to one knee.
One by one, the warriors followed.
Zaria swallowed the lump in her throat. She clenched her fists, letting the last of her sorrow drain into the earth beneath her.
She was no longer just a princess searching for answers.
She was a queen preparing for war.
-