While King Lusweti was making moves back in Nuri, Khisa and the Shadow Guard were still travelling and training.
During their journey, they encountered several remote villages. Some welcomed them as guests with cautious kindness, offering roasted yams and fermented milk; others met them with stone-cold stares, hands gripping spears, eyes brimming with suspicion. Regardless of the reception, they never stopped speaking of Nuri.
They had spent years away from home. Seasons passed with no familiar laughter, no smell of simmering stews from their mothers' kitchens, no festivals under the night sky. Many were homesick, but none dared say it aloud—at least, not until now. Despite the ache in their bones and the weight on their spirits, the thought of abandoning their mission hadn't yet fully crossed their minds.
