The scrapyard outside Lavumisa stretched under the pale moonlight like a graveyard of twisted metal. Burned-out trucks, rusted car frames, and piles of shattered machinery cast jagged shadows across the dirt lot. A makeshift bonfire crackled at the center, smoke curling into the stars.
Around it, the survivors gathered.
Sbonelo stood at the front, arms folded. Tall, dark-skinned, and stone-faced, his Gold Rank jacket gleamed faintly under the firelight. Beside him stood Shlelelwe — hair tied in a tight knot, fingers stained with gunpowder, eyes like broken glass. The two had the aura of killers who had seen everything and trusted no one.
Muzi sat cross-legged near the fire, next to Sphilile. Banele leaned against a crushed sedan nearby, arms wrapped in fresh bandages. No one spoke.
Until Sbonelo did.
"Let's not pretend we're okay," he said, voice flat. "Two safehouses were hit. Fifteen dead. One captured. You think this is just bad luck?"
The silence cracked like glass.
"We were set up," Shlelelwe added, stepping forward. "They knew the schedule. They knew the layout. Someone talked. Or someone watched."
Murmurs rippled through the group.
Muzi stayed quiet, but his mind was sharp, analyzing. He looked around. Faces he didn't recognize. Others he did — barely alive, scarred by the chaos.
Maphanga's voice whispered through his thoughts, steady and cold.
> "Observe, Muzi. Even in stillness, the game moves."
Sbonelo raised his hand for silence. "We regroup. But not as before. Everyone here is on trial — not for crimes, but for loyalty. For survival."
Shlelelwe pulled out a folded map. "There's one location still off-grid. A failed stash house in the hills north of Big Bend. We go there. We rebuild. But we move in squads."
She pointed.
"You three — Muzi, Sphilile, and Banele. Scout the route tonight. Quiet. No bullets unless necessary."
Muzi stood, nodding. "Understood."
As he moved, Sphilile fell in step beside him. "You good?" she asked.
"No. But I'm alive," Muzi replied.
> [Bangani Link Stable – Emotional Sync: Steady Echo]
Behind them, Sbonelo called out, "One last thing."
Everyone turned.
"If you see the one they call 'Mazwi' — you run. You don't fight. You don't talk. You run."
The fire popped.
Muzi frowned. "Who's Mazwi?"
Banele muttered, "A legend. And not the good kind."
Muzi clenched his jaw. He didn't like legends.
He liked truth. And right now, truth smelled like ash and betrayal.
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