Night blanketed the savanna in gold and ember hues. The Jua camp had quieted, its laughter dimmed to soft murmurs and crackling firelight. Stars shimmered above like scattered suns—silent witnesses to a rare peace. Kairo sat apart, his golden blade across his lap, its faint glow mirroring the warmth in his chest.
Tano lay sprawled beside the fire, drum resting on his chest, fingers tapping a lazy rhythm—tap... tap... heartbeat-slow. "Never thought stillness could sound this loud," he muttered, eyes half-open. "You did good, Beatless. Jabari looked like he saw the dawn itself."
Kairo smiled faintly. "It felt... right. But also heavy. Like I touched something meant to stay sacred." His gaze traced the horizon, where the dunes slept under moonlight, dark shapes shifting faintly in the distance. "The light in me—it's growing louder. Sometimes it feels like it's not mine."
N'Dari's deep voice rumbled from the shadows. "Light shared is never owned. It tempers... or consumes." He turned his mask slightly toward the moon. "Shade Mistress Zalia once said: 'Silence tests flame.' Perhaps this peace is your test."
Kairo nodded, feeling the words settle deep. The warmth of the campfire couldn't shake the chill curling beneath his ribs. Something out there moved—the rhythm of the land felt offbeat. "Do you feel it?" he whispered.
Tano yawned, half-asleep. "Feel what? The wind?"
"The pause before thunder," Kairo murmured.
The fire popped softly, sparks scattering into the night. In the distance, a low wind stirred, carrying a faint echo—like laughter wrapped in shadow.