The sun had barely begun to rise over Nuri's capital, casting long gold ribbons through the lattice windows of the council chamber. Outside, the sound of hammers on stone echoed like a heartbeat—steady, rhythmic, unstoppable.
Khisa sat alone at the central table, cloaked in silence. The table was wide and heavy, carved from a single fallen mahogany tree brought down during the first clearing to build the city. Around it, the seats of his advisors sat empty—for now.
Before him were three scrolls.
Three messages. Three truths from the field.
He had not yet opened them.
Instead, he sat still, his fingertips resting on the wax seals. One bore the swirling storm emblem of the Shadow Guard. Another, the mountain-insignia of Faizah and Kiprop's team. The third was sealed with a hawk and sun, Naliaka and Ndengu from the Mkono wa giza base.
He exhaled, picked up the first.
To Prince Khisa of Nuri,
