1.
Trepidation in the eyes of a six-year-old was quite hard to put to words.
While Thato, Chuma and Lesanda slept, Aphiwe just lay there. Unable to define the sensation.
Her arms were numb from pulling and straining. What exactly was she supposed to say? Or do, the closest thing to royalty was in her mother's bed, just… 'expecting things' from her.
They'd made her go over so many details, words flying out of her head and pouring into the mind of that Cold Stepper. Was it convenient? She couldn't tell, it had to be, right? They'd heard all they could hear. But if that were the case. Why were they still there? Did she even want them gone? It was amazing, wasn't it? They were calling her… a hero. Was she allowed to think that way? No…
The searing pain spreading over every part of her body told her no. They were like spikes, running through her, past her thumping heart, which ached in its own way. She couldn't help but wonder, if her mother had not taught her what a heart was, would it have hurt as much? It felt like it. So much had been said. Her mother had been contained, which wasn't new.
Her mother was like staring at a door where a person would burst through at any moment. The last few hours were like expecting a fight to burst through. One that would swallow them whole.
Aphiwe could taste the purple filling her from head to toe, breaking her down like coal in a fire.
Crackling.
Her heart started racing, her mother was up against giants, just like her.
They had weapons, she…a broken child.
Tears streamed from her eyes, pooling on her nose and wetting the bed. The tap tap of Chuma's tail snaked its way over her, rubbing her tears away. She hugged it, suffering through the pain, a fair trade off.
Her eyes closed.
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Chaos crashes through the doors, wizardry shakes the air, and the Prime Matriarch of the Great Ndlovu House makes her terrifyingly beautiful exit.
"Heroism is not something you do. It's something you are. This pain you feel right now? That's the cost."
Aphiwe watches as power collides—her mother standing firm, her aunt Babalwa revealed, and Liyema overwhelmed by voices too violent to contain. The crowd bows, the warriors march, and the queen departs, leaving behind shattered doors, bruised grass, and questions that cut deeper than venom.
But in the wreckage, Thato's voice rises above it all: defiant, weary, and unbroken.
📖 Step into the aftermath, where family bonds hold against the weight of Houses, and survival is toasted with laughter and drink.