Part 34: The Woven Lie and the Wake of Rage
The terror of the glowing river was over, but the consequence remained. Hind, soft and pliable, wrapped in Rashidat's warm, muscular bosom, looked up at her mother with confused innocence.
"Hind, you remember your Nana, right?" Rashidat asked, her voice a low, soothing murmur that belied the fear coiling in her gut. Hind nodded gently.
"She was my mother, and she told me a story of three friends that her Nana told her," Rashidat continued, carefully weaving the lie. "I told you of the three best friends, right?"
"They could fly!" Hind replied, a smile returning. "And they shared matching friendship bracelets! And they died together!"
"You're right, darling, but they didn't all die together," Rashidat corrected, pulling the thread of the new narrative. "One of the three friends lived after they destroyed the enemy. Out of compassion, a nice demon saved the strongest of them. Her name was Acacia."
Hind's curiosity, sharp and insistent, broke through the narrative. "So, she didn't die?"
Rashidat met her gaze, calm but firm. "No, she died. In fact, she died almost immediately after the demon's blessing. But she was granted the grace of rebirth. So her body didn't rot. After thirteen months, she shriveled and shrunk and turned into a baby girl. And that baby grew, and when she was old enough, she suddenly got pregnant, and she gave birth to a girl..."
Hind, grasping the bizarre picture, asked with a piqued curiosity, "And all the mothers came from the little baby children?"
A hint of sadness touched Rashidat's smile. "Not exactly, my love. But we all are the children of Acacia—until today. You see, back then, Acacia had a secret power, and the enemy wanted that power. That's why they were hunted and killed." Rashidat leaned in, her voice intense. "You have the same power as Acacia, my love. You must keep it a secret, so Acacia's enemies will not come for us, and we will be safe."
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Rashidat's fear was rooted in the ancient history passed down through her short-lived ancestors—the truth of the rage and the relentless God Seekers. She knew the catastrophic dangers of the power Hind now possessed and, driven by maternal instinct, decided to change the course of their lineage's tragedy.
After the devastating events at the Ninth Mountain, where Ogunye had killed the elite forces, the God Seekers were crippled. Many years passed, and though new generations of New Humans were born, none possessed the colossal, controlled rage of Acacia. As the world evolved, the purpose of the God Seekers and the very concept of rage as a weapon faded into obscurity.
In his hidden throne, Primus grew desperate. He had mustered every scrap of residual rage, draining himself completely to feed the weapon. But with Ogunye killing the best Dark Fighters, and the decades leading to the forgetting of their cause, their resources amounted to nothing.
Then, the final blow. On a sunny afternoon, Primus, with his loyal assistants Zeldor and Talia, entered the main God Seeker chamber. What they found was devastating brutality: every last remaining member of the God Seekers mutilated and killed, their bodies grotesquely strewn about. This terror was not from the gods; it was a chaotic, internal implosion. The purpose had been put to an absolute halt.
No rage, no seekers, no weapon, no purpose. Primus, losing everything he had worked for, sank onto a log, his hunched body shaking. He let out a primal scream that sunk a deep hole around his seat, and he cried—the first and last time the First Man would display such weakness.
Ever since then, Primus had been waiting for a new rage warrior. Rashidat knew this was the terrifying, silent promise that manifested in her innocent daughter. She looked deep into Hind's eyes, her own filled with a desperate, naked plea.
"Hind, you must never, ever get angry, let alone use the black smoke. You must remain simple Hind, and don't become Acacia, please, my love."
Hind, seeing her mother sad and scared for the first time, knew instantly how serious it was. She would guard this secret with her life, not for herself, but to keep her mother safe from the underlying threat she bore.
Years passed. Rashidat grew old and, with a heart heavy with both love and fear, handed over The Rusty Mug to Hind. The Mug, vibrant as ever, thrived under Hind's good-natured proprietorship.
One night, the inevitable walked through the door. A nightmare so long forgotten walked into the Mug in the form of a dreadful, calm-looking boy—Solon, carrying his father's giant sword on his back. He asked questions about the very thing Hind had avoided all her life: the Soul Medallion.
In fear of seeing the doom she had always avoided, her carefully locked rage involuntarily sipped out. The residual psychic energy of the ancient seal, reacting to the presence of the twin soul, caused a catastrophe. She unintentionally controlled the underlying rage of her customers and friends.
Every soul in The Rusty Mug, infused with a hint of collective rage, was commanded by Hind's panicked fear. With a shout of terror, she unintentionally caused them to fight to the death to protect her. Solon, the Prince of the Old Hell, merely observed the chaos. He slaughtered them in a blink of an eye, the carnage ending as quickly as it began.
Defeated and broken, Hind told Solon the way to the Medallion's other half: Kai. She had seen Kai's scar, a faint line on his chest, many times in the Mug, a hub of all information. Solon, being the Prince of the Old Hell and attuned to primal energies, could see the invisible thread of Acacia's reincarnation. He knew she had the answer he was looking for.
After the Solon incident, the ancient seal on her rage had been dramatically broken and Deep in the far eastern territories, the frail man on the throne was awakened.
"She's back," "again", "like some years back she's back. .....again " Primus hissed again. He then called out to his assistants. "Zeldor, Talia! Find me the rage. You must never lose track of her trail this time!"...