Chapter One
The screams of the dying filled the air.
Flames consumed the village, smoke rising into the darkened sky. The British
had come again, tearing through the defenses as if they were nothing. The
once mighty walls lay in ruins. There was no escape.
Terror flickered in every eye. Children were ripped from their mothers; men
were cut down where they stood. It had happened before, and we all knew
what came next—the chief and his family would be taken.
I paced inside my hut, my heart pounding. My father, Chief Mazyopa, stood
tall, but I could see the weight of defeat pressing down on him.
“The colony masters are here!” Phiri, his most trusted guard, burst in,
breathless. “They are taking the villagers!”
Swords clashed outside, the cries of battle ringing through the night.
“We must fight,” I said, clenching my fists. “We cannot let them take us
without resistance.”
“The warriors are weak,” Mata, my father’s second-in-command, warned.
“We are outnumbered.”
Still, my father refused to surrender. “Bring me my sword,” he ordered, his
voice unyielding. “We die as warriors, or we do not die at all.”
But he turned to us—my mother, my sister, and me. His gaze softened. “You
must leave,” he said. “Now.”
“Father, I won’t abandon you!” I protested.
He held my shoulders firmly. “Lala, you are my daughter. You must survive.
Take your mother and sister and go.”
His words left no room for argument. I swallowed my tears and nodded.
Miko, my father’s most trusted guard, led us through the secret path, deep
into the forest. We walked in silence, our breaths heavy, our hearts heavier.
“This is the land of the ancestors,” Miko whispered when we arrived at a
secluded clearing. “You are safe here.”
Or so we thought.
An eerie voice cut through the night. “And who do we have here?”
An old woman emerged from the shadows, her presence both unsettling and
wise.
Chapter Two
My mother gasped and bowed her head. “Great Seer.”
I remained still, watching her, sensing something beyond words. My mother
never bowed to anyone—except my father.
“Lala,” she scolded. “Show respect.”
Reluctantly, I nodded to the old woman.
She chuckled, eyes gleaming. “I knew you before you were born.”
My skin prickled. How could she know me?
“You cannot run forever, child,” she continued, voice like the wind. “Your
people need you.”
I clenched my fists. “I am powerless against the British. I have no weapons,
no army.”
“You do not need them,” she said, pressing a pendant into my palm. “You are
destined for more than you know.”
Her words sank into me, deeper than any blade. Was this my fate? To return
to the village, to face certain death?
Before I could question further, I turned and ran, heart hammering. Back
towards the ruins of my home.
The village was unrecognizable. Firelight cast eerie shadows over the broken
houses, the cries of the captured ringing in my ears. My father stood among
the ruins, bloodied but unbroken.
“Father!” I called, rushing to him.
His eyes widened in horror. “Lala! You must not be here!”
“I came to save you.”
Before he could respond, a sharp pain exploded at the back of my head.
Darkness swallowed me whole.
The last thing I heard was my father’s anguished cry: “Lala!”
Then—silence.
To be continued…
