The Wrath of the Unchained-Chapter 90 - Iron and Ember

Khisa stood at the edge of the shipyard, watching sparks fly into the night as hammers struck steel. The rhythmic clang of metal against metal echoed like war drums across the coast. Fires roared in clay forges, casting flickering light on soot-covered faces. This was no longer a makeshift camp. It was a fortress being born.

The moon hung high, casting pale silver across the water. Timber logs were stacked beside scaffolding; the skeletons of new ships jutted from the ground like ribs of sleeping beasts.

But the true forge was not the fire—it was the discipline. Training had resumed, harsher and harder than before. The soldiers trained day and night, skin blistered from salt and sun, muscles sore from dragging timber and hammering hulls.

Khisa watched them push themselves to the edge of exhaustion. He couldn’t help but remember a simpler time.

A sun-drenched field. Children’s laughter echoing as bricks dried in neat rows. He remembered Ndengu lifting three bricks at once, showing off to the younger ones, and Naliaka leaping between them like a dancer. He remembered peace.

But peace would not save them now.

"Ayaan," he said quietly.

[Yes, Khisa?]

"I need a training regiment. Navy SEAL level. In my past life, America had some of the best navies in the world. I’ll use every method to survive this."

[Of course, Khisa. I’ll also add training to recognize sea patterns, currents, and coastal winds. If we control the water, we control our future.]

"Thank you, Ayaan."

Day by day, the Shadows and soldiers trained. Their routines blended with the shipwrights’ labor. When they weren’t sparring, they were building ships—learning every plank, every bolt.

Khisa noticed something beautiful in the chaos: camaraderie.

Simba helped a younger recruit tie a proper knot. "If you mess this up, we all drown."

Jelani clapped a limping soldier on the back after a swim circuit. "Come on, slowpoke. You’ve got lungs, not leaves."

Laughter, though rare, echoed in the wind. Bonds were forming—tested in salt, sweat, and fire.

Tesfaye stood off to the side, arms folded. He watched the drills closely.

He had seen many armies. He had trained hardened warriors. But this... this was different. The precision. The discipline. The way Khisa’s soldiers—especially the Shadows—pushed past the breaking point without being asked. They were faster. Sharper. Hungrier.

"Your prince," he murmured to Musimbi beside him, "trains demons."

Musimbi chuckled. "They are his family. And they train like they have nothing left to lose."

Tesfaye nodded slowly, newfound respect gleaming in his eyes. "They just might survive what’s coming."

Khisa had stationed lookouts both at sea and on land. They posed as pirates, striking when necessary but never prematurely. Every day bought them time.

Any foreign vessel seen in their waters was either sunk or added to their growing fleet. They scavenged weapons, studied enemy ship designs, and began laying traps in the shallows.

After a month, the stories began to spread.

Whispers of a new pirate stronghold with no allegiance. They attacked no villages—only vessels carrying weapons. Merchants passed unharmed, sometimes even welcomed to trade.

Rumors flared—of men and women who moved like shadows, struck like wind, and vanished like mist.

In Zeila Port, Tiriki sharpened his dagger while two traders gossiped nearby.

Later that evening, he leaned toward Akumu over a bowl of steaming goat stew. "You don’t think...?"

Akumu raised an eyebrow. "That it’s Prince Khisa?"

Tiriki nodded. "Only he would create something like this. Discipline, purpose... stealth."

Akumu stirred the stew slowly. "If it is him, he’s already planning something bigger. But we stay. He’ll send for us if he needs us."

Tiriki frowned. "We could be of more use to him there."

"Our mission is to observe. Nothing more."

He sighed. "I hate waiting."

Akumu smirked. "So does he. That’s how you know it’s really him."

Suddenly, a horn blared from the southern ridge. A warning. Every head snapped toward the sound.

Khisa and Tesfaye rushed up the slope, soldiers grabbing spears, swords and bows as they ran.

A sentry knelt in the dirt, pointing into the distance. "Movement, Prince. At least fifty riders approaching from the dunes."

Khisa squinted through the night. He could just barely make out the flicker of torches. The line of riders was serpentine, silent.

Tesfaye whispered, "Scouts from one of the Adal camps?"

Khisa’s jaw tightened. "Or a peace envoy. Or bait."

He turned to the guard. "Send the Shadows. Five men. I want eyes on them before they come within arrow range."

"Yes, Prince."

The horn blew again, two short blasts. The Shadows melted into the night like smoke on water.

Back at the camp, the fires were dimmed. The workers fell into hush. Every soldier knew the code—silent readiness. Children were ushered into the lower caverns. Women armed themselves. The whole port held its breath.

Minutes passed.

Then a single Shadow returned, his face covered in sweat and dust.

"They’re not Adal. Not soldiers. Refugees. Dozens of them. Women. Men. One priest among them."

Khisa frowned. "Where from?"

"Erk’abet, Your Highness. A very small port town nearby. The port was razed three days ago. Pirates. Ottoman-backed."

Khisa’s heart sank. Erk’abet was only a few days away. That meant the enemy was closer than he’d thought—and bold enough to leave survivors.

"Bring them in," he said quietly. "Feed them. Give them water."

Tesfaye asked, "Will they stay?"

Khisa nodded. "They will. And they’ll fight, if they want revenge."

Later that night, Khisa visited the injured. A young girl, no older than ten, clung to her mother’s torn dress, eyes hollow. A priest sat nearby, muttering prayers, a bloody bandage around his ribs.

"You were at Erk’abet?" Khisa asked.

The priest nodded, his voice hoarse. "They came at dawn. No warning. They wanted gold. Salt. Children. We gave them nothing."

Khisa knelt beside him. "And you came here because..."

"You are the only fire we see in this dark. We were told the sea answers to a prince now. One who fights with shadows."

Khisa stood and looked out toward the harbor, where the first new ship now floated half-built in the dark.

"We will build something they can’t burn," he said quietly. "A kingdom from salt, iron, and ember. Let them come."