Blood cannot be chosen
278 Words
Nyikadzimu was not patient.
The restriction placed on Ruvimbo did not weaken her power. It refined it. The shadows answered her faster now, sharper, more deliberate. The realm itself seemed to lean toward her, recognizing something inevitable.
The elders noticed.
So did the enemy.
The relic that had stirred before woke fully.
It did not come alone.
The attack was swift and merciless. A breach opened near the boundary, tearing the fabric between worlds. Creatures poured through, twisted by ancient blood magic, drawn to Ruvimbo like iron to flame.
She fought.
Not wildly. Not blindly.
She fought with clarity.
Shadows rose at her command, forming barriers, striking with precision. Her breath stayed steady. Her fear sharpened into focus.
For the first time, she felt what it meant to belong to both worlds.
And for the first time, she killed.
When it was over, silence fell heavy across Nyikadzimu. Bodies dissolved into ash. Stone cracked beneath her feet.
The elders stared at her in something close to awe.
Zvikomborero spoke softly. “You have crossed a threshold.”
Ruvimbo looked at her bloodstained hands. “There was no other choice.”
“There never is,” Zvikomborero replied. “That is how power justifies itself.”
That night, the bond with Kain surged suddenly, painfully strong.
He was free.
But freedom had cost him something too.
They found each other at the edge of the realm, holding each other like survivors of the same storm.
“This will never end,” Kain whispered.
Ruvimbo pressed her forehead to his. “Then we will not run.”
Far away, in the human world, Dzivaguru slept uneasily.
The war had begun.
- Writer
