The oppressive weight of the men's visit lingered in the courtyard, even as the dust settled from their departure. For Leonotis, the day's revelations had only just begun to sink in, chief among them the image of his mother, encased in ice and spirited away. He turned to Chinakah, his gaze fixed on her weary face, the most pressing of his many new questions tumbling out before he could stop it.
"Why did you have my mother's body and why did they take it?" Leonotis asked.
Chinakah explained, "It's part of a pact black mages make when joining their sect. They donate their bodies to further their studies. I had to keep her body on ice until they arrived."
Leonotis, somewhat satisfied with the answer, looked at Chinakah. "Are all black mages like those two?"
"Yeah," Chinakah said quickly. "Too much time in the dark arts changes them all into horrible people."
"Even my mother?"
Chinakah registered what she had said and tried to backtrack. "Your mother was... a little intense, but she was always... loving to you, at least."
"And my father? Was she loving to him, too?"
"Uh, well, she..." Chinakah fumbled.
"I'm glad my black magic went away. I don't want to turn into those guys," Leonotis said, a shadow crossing his face.
"Your black magic hasn't resurfaced, but don't give up hope. In the meantime, Gethii loves his little training sessions with you. He says you've progressed further than anyone he's trained in the last three years!" Chinakah said, trying to lighten the mood.
Leonotis smiled, the brief darkness lifting. They heard the sound of a motorcycle approaching. Gethii appeared, riding towards them.
"Ready for another lesson?" Gethii called as he rode up.
"Yeah!" Leonotis said excitedly, the tense encounter seemingly forgotten.
"Hold it," Chinakah said, her voice firm. "Come inside; I have to tell you what just happened."
Chinakah and Gethii walked into the clinic and told Leonotis to play outside.
Leonotis stood outside by the open window, making sure they couldn't sense his presence as he listened to their conversation.
The small clinic crackled with unspoken tension. Chinakah leaned against the rough-hewn table, recounting the encounter with Njiru's men, her voice tight with lingering anger and a tremor of fear. "They just appeared out of nowhere, Gethii. They wanted me to go with them, leave Leonotis behind like he was some… some burden."
Gethii's usually calm eyes widened, a flicker of alarm crossing his features. "Chinakah... Njiru's men… they aren't common thugs. They're known throughout the territory for their brutality. They basically answer to no one. Crossing them…" He trailed off, shaking his head slowly.
Chinakah's jaw tightened. "I know! That's why I refused. I told them I wouldn't go anywhere without Leonotis." A protective fierceness shone in her eyes.
A warmth bloomed in Leonotis's chest, spreading through him like wildfire. He pressed a hand to his suddenly flushed cheek. Only a couple of years had passed since their paths had intertwined, yet Chinakah had become his anchor, his sun. Every word of praise, every gentle correction, every comforting embrace resonated within him, shaping his world.
Gethii pushed a hand through his black locs, a worried frown creasing his brow. "We need to go see the King. Now. Before there are… consequences. A direct request like that… ignoring it will be seen as an act of defiance."
Chinakah scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "That child? No way. Isn't he barely older than Leonotis? Probably just some pampered puppet king, pulling strings he doesn't understand."
"I understand your reservations, Chinakah," Gethii said patiently, his voice firm but gentle. "But if the King himself has requested your presence, you have to go. The rumors… I've heard whispers of what happens when his will is defied. He may be new and young, but he wields considerable power. I'll go with you. My reputation… it might offer some protection, some sway."
Chinakah remained unconvinced, her arms crossed stubbornly. "Okay, fine. But how are we supposed to get there? Your motorcycle barely fits two, let alone all three of us. And Leonotis can't stay here on his own. Not after what happened with Njiru's men. They might come back."
Gethii paced the small clinic, his brow furrowed in thought. "We can borrow Mr. Wanjau's old truck. He owes us for getting rid of that fox demon that was terrorizing the village. As for Leonotis…" He stopped, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I know a place to the west, Stylwater city. Someone there might just be able to help us."
The silence in the small clinic stretched for a moment after Gethii's pronouncement about Stylwater City. Chinakah finally nodded, a reluctant agreement firming her expression. "Alright. Stylwater it is. But first..." She turned towards the open window where Leonotis had been, her voice rising. "Leonotis! Come inside, quickly!"
Gethii echoed her, his tone a little gentler but no less urgent. "Leonotis! We need you!"
Leonotis, heart still thumping from their hushed, serious conversation, quickly smoothed his features and stepped away from the window, then walked around to the clinic door as if he hadn't heard a thing. "Yes?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
Chinakah knelt before him, her hands finding his shoulders. "Listen carefully. We have to go on a trip. All of us."
"A long one," Gethii added, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed. "We'll be leaving early tomorrow morning, so you need to go pack your things. Just what's essential, alright?"
A flurry of questions bubbled up in Leonotis, but the grave expressions on both their faces told him this wasn't the time for them. He simply nodded. "Okay. I'll go pack."
Back in his small room, the news of an unexpected journey warred with the lingering unease from the day's events. He pulled out his worn satchel and began to gather his meager belongings: a change of clothes, the small wooden bird Gethii had carved for him, a pouch of dried herbs Chinakah insisted he keep. As he reached into the back of his small, makeshift closet for a spare blanket, something heavy and rectangular tumbled out, landing with a soft thud on the packed earth floor.
A black, leather-bound diary. His old diary.
He'd found it tucked away in a loose floorboard in his old room, back in the grand, empty house that no longer felt like home, shortly after he'd come to live with Chinakah. He'd brought it here, to the small room behind the clinic, with a faint, desperate hope that its pages might unlock some of the shuttered doors in his memory, help him understand who he used to be. But every time he'd dared to peek inside, all it did was reinforce the chilling, terrible image he had of his past self – a cruel, detached boy he barely recognized and deeply loathed.
His fingers trembled slightly as he picked it up. He hadn't looked at it in months. Hesitantly, he opened it to a random page. The neat, unnervingly precise handwriting stared back at him. His eyes scanned the lines, and a cold dread seeped into his bones. The entry was a vivid, clinical description of a dissection, methodical and emotionless. Of a dog. A dog that, according to the entry, had still been alive when it began.
Leonotis shuddered violently, a strangled gasp catching in his throat, and slammed the book shut. The metallic taste of bile rose in his mouth. He scrambled back, away from the diary as if it were a venomous snake. So, Mr. Wanjau was right, a sickening thought pierced through his horror. The old farmer had muttered darkly once, after finding his dog missing that Leonotis had taken his hound. Chinakah had dismissed it as village gossip, but the diary entry, in its cold, stark detail, painted a truth far uglier than any rumor.
Whatever had happened, whatever darkness had resided in him, Leonotis swore to himself, fists clenched, his whole body trembling, he'd never go back to being that person. He would rather die than become that monster again.