The shard burned in Nkosana's hand—but not with fire. It was a cold heat, something that seared deeper than flesh. A hum filled his ears, drowning out the thunder. His veins lit up, glowing faintly beneath his skin like molten ink.
Zamcolo staggered back.
"What... what have you done?" the demon snarled.
MaGogo didn't answer. Her eyes were wide with fear—not of Zamcolo, but of Nkosana.
He rose slowly, almost floating, his feet barely touching the earth. The rain swirled around him, refusing to wet him. Behind his eyes, something ancient uncoiled—a presence that had waited, watching, buried in his blood since birth.
"You said I was the vessel," Nkosana said, voice echoing unnaturally. "You were right. But not yours."
Zamcolo roared and lunged, claws flashing.
Nkosana moved like lightning—faster than thought. He caught Zamcolo mid-air, eyes locked, voice low.
"Let me show you what *real* darkness feels like."
He slammed the demon into the mud. The sky shattered with black light.
For a heartbeat, everything stopped.
Then—silence.
When the dust cleared, Zamcolo was gone. Banished. Broken.
MaGogo dropped to her knees. "Nkosana... what did you release?"
He didn't answer. He couldn't.
Because something deep inside him… had smiled.