Agyenim Davu stared at the wine in his goblet. The liquid trembled, not from the movement of the table, but from the tremors in his own hand.
The King knew.
Agyenim looked up. Libaax was speaking with Omari Imani, the Authority on Economic Affluence.
Omari was striking. Her skin was the color of ripe pawpaw (Saffron phenotype), glowing under the celestial light. Her hair was styled in intricate manicured dreads , adorned with a stylish Mursi headdress that replaced the ox horns with elephant tusks, the heavy golden rings of her Ndebele necklace elongated her elegant neck to a sexy seven inches. She wore the full regalia of a Nguni queen.
As a Manomi, her Violet Aura (Crown Chakra) usually radiated a spiritual calm. But tonight, she looked agitated. She was gesturing at a datapad, likely showing the King the economic fallout of the market riots—the very riots Agyenim had paid for.
It was necessary, Agyenim told himself, his Indigo Aura pulsing tightly around his skull. Libaax is a storm without direction. He has been skirting the Hightable for the last century. Now he breaks the Lineage protocols, stumping on the sanctity of Sovereignty, elevating a GardHe er to aWard. If he is not checked, he will become a dictator.
He wasn't a Mufarikha. He didn't want Utupu (nothingness). He wanted Order. And sometimes, you had to burn the village to save the laws that governed it.
But Libaax wouldn't see it that way. And Azure Oba, who was currently watching the exits like a hungry lion, certainly wouldn't.
Agyenim made a decision.
He touched the shrunken Flying Mat artifact tucked into his Modi waistcoat pocket. Making sure it was there.
Escape, his logic dictated. Regroup. Control the narrative from the shadows.
He stood up.
"Going somewhere, Authority Davu?"
The voice was soft, melodic, and devastating.
Agyenim turned. Arora Lakshmi stood behind him. The Dravidian woman looked ethereal in her sari, her Prismatic White Aura shimmering with a terrifying presence.
"Arora," Agyenim smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "The air is stifling. I need the balcony."
"The air is fine, Agyenim," Arora said, her dark eyes searching his. "It is your conscience that is suffocating."
She held up a hand. Between her fingers, she held a small residue of Nommo energy—the signature of the lock she had cracked in the King's study.
"I opened it," she whispered. "The ivory case. I saw the seal."
Agyenim felt a crack in his heart. Of all the people to catch him, why did it have to be her? He had always admired Arora's ability to see the full spectrum of truth. He had hoped, one day, she might see it, the truth of his vision.
"Then you know why I did it," Agyenim hissed, stepping closer so the guests wouldn't hear. "He is out of control, Arora. He actually believes he is the Sky, but he is just a man. Someone has to remind him of gravity."
"So you paid the Brotherhood of Dust to kill innocent people?" Arora asked, her voice trembling with disappointment. "That is not gravity, Agyenim. That is cruelty."
"Politics 101!"
"It is treason," Azure Oba's voice boomed from the dais.
Agyenim spun around. Azure had seen them. The Giant Sanguine warrior was already moving, vaulting over the High Table with his Severity of the sword manifesting in his er.
"Seize him!" Azure roared.
The banquet hall erupted into chaos.
Agyenim didn't hesitate. He pulled the Flying Mat from his pocket and threw it onto the floor. He poured a massive surge of Indigo Aura (Telekinesis) into it.
The ornate mat instantly expanded, hovering a foot off the ground. Agyenim jumped onto it.
"Stop him!" Libaax commanded, rising from his throne.
Omari Imani reacted first.
The Economic Authority didn't use a weapon. She used her Manomi connection to the living world. The banquet hall was decorated with massive potted palms and decorative vines.
"Restrain!" Omari shouted, her Violet Aura flaring.
The decorative vines exploded with growth. They lashed out like whips, aiming for Agyenim's ankles.
"Sorry, Omari!" Agyenim shouted.
He focused his mind. Telekinesis. He grabbed a heavy tray of silver goblets from a nearby table and flung them violently at Omari's head.
"Look out!" Azure shouted.
Azure dove in front of Omari, shielding her with his massive body. The silver goblets bounced harmlessly off his Red Aura skin, but the distraction bought Agyenim a second.
The vines missed his ankles by an inch.
Agyenim willed the Flying Mat upward. He cracked the crystal dome of the ceiling with a burst of telekinesis.
"He's going for the roof!" Ahia screamed as she sprang up from her table.
Agyenim looked down one last time. He saw Libaax's fury. He saw Azure helping Omari to her feet—noticing a telekinetic spark passing between the Warrior and the Rancher. And he saw Arora, standing amidst the chaos, looking at him not with anger, but with a profound sadness.
I will fix this, Agyenim vowed silently. I will write a better ending.
He extended his hand to the cracked Crystceirg ing.
CRASH!
The glass shattered. Agyenim Davu, the Authority on Propaganda, soared out into the cool night air of Akogwa, disappearing into the silver light of the Empyrean pearl.
The Aftermath
The hall was filled with the sound of falling glass.
Libaax stood in the center of the room, looking up at the hole in the ceiling with an unreadable expression. The cold wind whipping his blue robes.
Omari Imani brushed the glass from her Ndebele necklace. She looked furious.
"He nearly took my head off with a fruit platter," she spat, though her eyes lingered on Azure Oba, who was checking his arm for cuts. "Thank you, Authority Oba."
"He runs fast for a man who writes lies," Azure grunted, sheathing his Aura sword. "But he cannot outrun the Jeshilaanga."
"No," Libaax said, turning to face them. "Let him go."
"My Lord?" Azure frowned.
"He has exposed himself," Libaax said. "He has no access to the Treasury, thanks to Omari. He has no access to the Archives, thanks to Arora. He is just a fugitive on a carpet now."
Libaax looked at Arora Lakshmi. She was staring at the shattered glass on the floor.
"Authority Lakshmi," Libaax said gently. "You opened the case. You knew."
"I know," Arora whispered.
"You hesitated," Libaax stated.
He walked over to Ahia, who was standing by her table, shaken but unharmed. He placed a hand on her shoulder, grounding her.
"Agyenim believes he is the hero of this story," Libaax addressed the room. "He believes I am the villain because I elevated a Ward. He wants a war of ideologies."
Libaax's eyes burned with Blue fire.
"Then we will give him one. But we will not fight it in the shadows. We will fight it in the light."
He looked at Ahia.
"Tomorrow," Libaax announced, "The Ward begins her true duties. If Agyenim claims she is unworthy, then we will prove him wrong. Ahia will not just be a student of the court."
He turned to Omari Imani.
"Authority Imani," Libaax said. "You manage the Empire's wealth. Ahia knows how to grow things from nothing. Take her. Teach her the economy of the Empire. Let her prove her worth through Ujamaa."
Omari side eyed Ahia. Sizing up the gardener in the silk dress.
"She has dirt under her fingernails," Omari noted dryly.
"It is honest dirt," Ahia replied, lifting her chin.
Omari smirked. "Fine. Report to the Treasury at dawn. Bring a calculator. And wear comfortable shoes."