The Wrath of the Unchained-Chapter 137- The Road to Lusimba

Khisa stood at the edge of Malindi as the warm sea breeze teased his cloak. Behind him, the sounds of a city rebuilding echoed—hammering, laughter, vendors calling out in song. Ahead lay the road home. The time had come.

Zeuberi tightened her sash beside him. "Feels strange leaving the coast, doesn’t it?"

Khisa nodded. "It’s quiet now. Too quiet after everything. Like the sea is holding its breath."

Ndengu joined them, carrying his war club across his back. "Or maybe it’s just letting us rest... for once."

The Shadow Guard, in lighter travel gear, lined up in formation. Civilians gathered to bid them farewell. Some came with fruit, others with cloth, a few just to watch. Children clung to their parents, whispering excitedly.

"There he is!" a boy shouted, pointing. "That’s the prince! The one who fought like a leopard in the Kilwa war!"

"No," corrected a little girl, grinning with missing teeth. "He’s the one who outsmarted the leopard!"

Laughter rippled through the crowd as Khisa approached them. "Which story do you like best?"

"The one where you tricked the slave traders and made their ship sink!" the girl exclaimed, fists clenched in delight. "Is it true you shouted, ’Let the sea take you!’?"

Khisa grinned. "I might’ve said something like that."

A scribe who had been traveling with them leaned toward the children. "He also climbed a burning tower to save three men left behind. Risked his life."

Khisa waved him off. "Don’t make me sound like a madman. Two of those men were yelling at me to leave."

"That’s what makes it heroic," Ndengu muttered.

The people laughed again, and an elder came forward. "Our freedom... our dignity... was paid with blood. But your leadership lit the fire, Prince Khisa. May you never be forgotten."

"I don’t want to be remembered," Khisa said softly. "Not more than the ones we lost. Remember them first."

The elder bowed deeply.

They traveled for two days, moving inland toward Lusimba. Along the way, the landscape shifted from sandy dunes to rich red soil and scattered acacia trees. Villages dotted the horizon. People were planting, trading, building homes of brick and stone—many bearing the same designs Khisa once helped sketch.

On the third day, they veered off the main road toward a small but fast-growing town known as Nyumbani Yetu—"Our Home." It had been established for the freed slaves rescued by the Drift Squad during the final months of the war.

Children peeked out from behind makeshift fences as Khisa and the Shadow Guard arrived. One bold little girl ran ahead to announce them. "They’re here! The prince and the shadows!"

Women came forward first, most with shaved heads and faded scars on their arms and backs. Men followed, tall and cautious. These were people who had known chains.

Then she appeared—Naparye.

She was small, maybe nine years old, with sharp Nubian features and a voice that carried like a songbird’s. She stood at the front of the crowd with a steady gaze, unflinching. Her dress was too big for her, held together by a twine belt. Yet she looked like a queen.

"You’re Khisa," she said simply.

Khisa crouched to her level. "And you must be Naparye."

She blinked. "Musyoka told me about you. He said you came from the future." she spoke in her broken Swahili.

Khisa was surprised at that, he did indeed come from the future but as far as the people know this is just a story. No need to panic or correct her. Just let the children believe in a greater future.

"I did," he said with a smile.

She tilted her head. "Do people still keep slaves in the future?"

His smile faded. "No. Not where I came from."

"Good," she said, crossing her arms. "Because if they did, I’d burn it all down."

That surprised him. "You’re very brave."

"I had to be," she said quietly. "In the desert camps, we didn’t have names. Just numbers. I was 67. But I kept telling them my name was Naparye. My mother gave me that name before they took her away. She said it meant ’soft flower.’ But they beat me every time I said it."

There was silence.

"I’m sorry," Khisa said, swallowing. "No child should ever have to go through that."

"I don’t cry about it anymore," she said. "But sometimes... I still dream of the cages."

Khisa’s hand clenched unconsciously. "You’ll never see a cage again. I promise you that."

She looked at him with the same steel in her eyes. "You’re a prince now. Does that mean I’m safe?"

"Yes," he said. "You’re safe. And one day, if you want, you’ll be anything you dream of. Even a queen."

She giggled then, and for a moment, the child in her returned. "Then I want my palace to have a garden. With real soft flowers."

"Done," he said, "Once you’re ready, you can come join my Shadows. I will make you the strongest warrior in the world. Show the world your light."

Naparye beamed, her eyes shining.

That night, Khisa sat with Nia and Simba under a moonlit tree. Fires glowed in the distance. Children played tag near the shadows’ tents.

"She reminded me of someone," Khisa murmured.

"Your sister?" Nia asked gently.

"No," he said. "Me. Just me. Before the war with Angwenyi. Before we saw the world for what it was. "

They were quiet.

"I thought winning the war would feel like triumph," he admitted. "But now I just feel... tired."

"It’s not wrong to be tired," Simba said. "But it means you still have a heart. That matters more than victory."

By the sixth day, they reached the gates of Lusimba—the new capital of Nuri. The town had changed. Towers of stone were rising. New markets. Broad roads. But at its heart, it still felt like home.

Children saw them first.

"They’re back! The prince is back!"

Women came out with baskets. Men cheered from rooftops. And then she appeared—his mother.

She stood quietly, hands folded, eyes full of tears.

Khisa stepped down from his horse and walked to her.

She embraced him without a word, fingers gripping his back like she never wanted to let go.

"I missed you," he whispered.

"I knew you’d return," she said. "But I didn’t know you’d return like this."

He smiled softly against her shoulder. "Like what?"

"Like a legend."