Stories and Book Talk

Tag: Fiction

  • Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 9

    Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 9

    Kiel Iram sat in the main mess hall at Swala Force’s compound. He chose a table in the middle of the room that could seat two. His black uniform with five gold chevrons on his shoulders had the young cadets giving him a wide berth. The mess hall was relatively quiet. It gave Kiel the convenience he needed to log in to the main network and report his findings on the previous night’s attack to command.

    When he finished his report, Kiel pulled up the map of the Empire of Afrotheria. He filtered the map to show the Theria Guild zone boundaries and their assigned Guardian forces.

    Since the attack on Gathu Village in Teru Province, Commander Demus had been studying the movement of the Theria Guild teams in the surrounding zones. Teru Province had a weakness.

    The Swala Force stationed in this oasis was largely made up of cadets and officers fresh out of training. The seasoned Sokwe Recon trainers were not enough to run a serious team. However, they managed to utilize the cadets to a satisfactory result. In any case, Swala Force should have been able to respond to a distressed village like Gathu in time to avoid casualties.

    Kiel tapped his finger on the number of casualties in Gathu Village and let out a sigh. It was over fifty, which was quite a number for a village not near the barrier. Perhaps there was a breakdown in communication. Swala Force’s general was hard to handle, but he would have taken a call to arms from Simba Force in Zone 7 without protest. The Sokwe Recon team in the oasis should have also been able to respond in time.

    Kiel picked up a slice of ugali from the bowl next to him and chewed on it in deep thought. A message beeped, and the notification appeared in the corner of his screen. It was from Commander Demus.

    “Instructor Kitonyi wants to recommend a trio of cadets to our side. Check them out. He’s a good friend with a good eye. He won’t ask for a favor without cause.”

    Kiel replied with an affirmative answer, promising to talk to the three cadets. Demus Kiima rarely asked for favors. When he did, they were very important.

    “Thank you. They’ll find you in the mess hall.”

    Kiel closed his glass tablet, folding it back into the size of a small cell phone. He slid it into his pocket and pulled out a pair of glasses instead. Pulling his tray of food closer, he concentrated on eating while he waited for his three guests.

    Zev breathed out his anxiety as they reached the mess hall. It was a little past seven o’clock. Most of his fellow cadets had already eaten and rushed off to complete duties.

    The place was relatively quiet and empty. It was easy to spot the general sitting at a table for two in the middle of the dining hall. He sat with his back straight. His hair was cut very short and neat. He wore a black blazer with the gold chevrons of his rank, five on each shoulder. Zev wondered when he would ever get there.

    A gentle touch on his right shoulder had Zev turning to find Instructor Kitonyi watching him.

    “General Iram will conduct an interview. Answer his questions without hesitation. The rest is up to how fast you get your twentieth battle,” Instructor Kitonyi said.

    “Thank you, sir,” Zev said, saluting the taller man. He glanced at Saul and Noah, then nodded as he led the way to the general’s table.

    Kiel was watching a surveillance video of the Gathu Village attack when three cadets reached his table. They saluted him in a neat movement and greeted him.

    “Good morning, General.”

    “Mm. Good morning,” Kiel said, reaching up to touch the side of his glasses. The video paused and started a recording of the three cadets. Kiel cleared his throat and folded his arms across his chest, giving all his attention to the trio.

    They looked young, barely twenty. Fresh-faced, eager, Kiel mused. They made him keenly aware of his own age. He was turning thirty-three soon. He had already stopped adding chevrons to his arms to mark his successful battles. They were too many now, and the gold chevrons on his shoulders were enough to mark his current rank. Still, he kept his qualifying twenty on his arms because they were a reminder of his days in training.

    “At ease,” he said now to the three cadets. “Name, rank, left to right.”

    “Staff Sergeant Zev Mablevi, squad leader.”

    “Sergeant Saul Nkoba, team member.”

    “Sergeant Noah Bala, team member.”

    “How old are you?” Kiel asked.

    “Twenty-two this year,” Mablevi said.

    “Twenty-three,” Saul answered.

    “Twenty-four,” Noah said.

    “Interesting,” Kiel thought, his gaze resting on Mablevi. The two young men didn’t mind following orders from a younger squad leader. Kiel studied them, too, for a second longer.

    Mablevi stood in a standard military stance. His hands clasped behind his back, his back straight, his shoulders straight. He stood stock-still, assured in his qualifications, unlike the other two who shifted slightly with nerves. Their gazes shifted to Mablevi occasionally.

    It looked like Mablevi had built a small pack. They probably worked quite well in a team setting.

    “How many battles have you completed?” Kiel asked. “Staff Sergeant Mablevi, answer for your team.”

    “Nineteen battles, sir.”

    “One more and you can qualify out of Swala Force. You can join Simba Force in Thuka Province, or Tiger in Yole. If you qualify high enough, you can even join Sokwe in Kirit Capital. Why do you need to meet me?”

    Mablevi glanced at his teammates before he answered.

    “We’re hoping to join the Strike Force Team.”

    Kiel hid a smile at the clear ambition in Mablevi’s tone.

    “What if you can’t?” Kiel asked.

    “Then we’ll join Sokwe Recon, sir.”

    “Do you want to relocate to the capital, Kirit?” Kiel asked.

    “We hope that once we join Sokwe Recon, we can find a way to enter the Strike Force, sir,” Mablevi answered.

    Kiel nodded.

    The Strike Force was a grand dream for any Guardian in the Theria Guild. To join it would mean working directly under Commander Demus Kiima and himself. Recruitment did not include joining Sokwe Recon. Instead, it was based heavily on unique ability.

    Kiel did not divulge the truth of entry into the Strike Force to Zev Mablevi. Instead, he decided he wanted to see this little team in action.

    “What would you like to hear from me?” Kiel asked, wanting to catch a glimpse of Mablevi’s thoughts.

    “Sir, we are one battle away from twenty chevrons. Once we return, whole and hale, please consider recommending us to Sokwe Recon,” Mablevi said.

    “What if the transfer separates you?” Kiel asked, narrowing his gaze. Mablevi looked qualified for Strike Force, but the other two did not seem ready.

    Zev swallowed hard this time, then answered, “As long as we are able to work up the ranks, it will be to our benefit.”

    Kiel scoffed because he could see Mablevi’s unwillingness to separate from his team. Still, he admired Mablevi’s determination to move out of Swala Force.

    “All right, I’ll consider your transfers when you achieve your qualifying battle. I’m not promising anything. Your ability determines where you end up,” Kiel said.

    Zev’s smile was fast, a quick curve of his lips that quickly disappeared. He brought his right hand up in a formal salute, prompting the others to follow suit.

    “Thank you for meeting us, sir!”

    “Thank you, sir!” Noah and Saul echoed.

    “All right, leave me to my work. You’re dismissed, cadets,” Kiel said.

    “Yes, sir.” Zev and his team gave him a final salute and hurried away, making their way to the buffet line.

    Kiel chuckled at their obvious excitement, once again wondering if he was ever that young. He pulled out his phone and called Demus.

    “How do you feel about recruiting a gifted team leader?” Kiel asked.

    “How old?” Demus asked.

    “Twenty-two,” Kiel said. “He’s a natural adhesive, holding together a team of two for now.”

    Kiel studied Mablevi receiving a tray filled with food from Saul and grinned. “They seem to eat, sleep, and fight together. He’s older than his teammates, which means they are following him after careful thought. It would be interesting to play with their dynamic and see how it fares in the Wildlands.”

    “He must be interesting to have you talk about him,” Demus said. “Forward their stats to the Strike Force recruitment council1. Use their qualifying fight as a test.”

    “I’ll find Instructor Kitonyi to set it up,” Kiel said.

    “What about the Gathu Village roundup?” Demus asked, shifting to the reason Kiel had needed to visit Swala Force.

    “I have five men following the ghost wraith routes,” Kiel said. “These wraith routes seem planned, though I cannot explain how that is possible. Ghost wraiths should not be able to make a decision.”

    “Unless there is interference,” Demus said, his tone thoughtful. “I’ll reach out to Nico Riithi at Strato. He will know what KISTech is working on and if it has to do with wraith control. Keep at it. I want a clearer picture.”

    “Yes, sir!” Kiel said.

    He waited for Demus to end the call before he focused on his food. After his meal, he went in search of Instructor Kitonyi to learn more about Mablevi.

    <<Previous | TOC | Next>>

    Footnotes:

    1. Strike Force recruitment council chooses team members for the elite strike force team based on a guardian’s merit. ↩︎

  • Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 8

    Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 8

    It was a dark Thursday evening, and Zev had just turned twenty-two. He rode in the back of a military-grade utility truck used by the Theria Guild for transport, keeping his attention fixed on his squadmates and the mission at hand. Their four-man team was en route to the open lands bordering Thuka Province, near the steel barrier that divided their territory from the Wild Lands.

    Guardian intelligence had identified a likely ghost wraith attack on a weak point in the barrier. The nearby villages, already under close watch, needed the Guild’s protection.

    Simba Recon was stationed in the area but had requested backup from Swala Oasis, hoping to prevent civilian casualties. Swala’s forces often supported Simba Recon during major ghost wraith outbreaks.

    “Squad Leader Mablevi, Sergeant Nkoba, and Sergeant Bala,” the team leader called out.

    “Sir,” Zev answered, with Saul and Noah echoing him.

    Zev glanced at the man in charge of their four-person squad, known only as Hunter. It was customary for recruits to adopt new names upon joining the Theria Guild. It was a way to leave the past behind. Zev had refused to change his name, holding fast to a connection he would not abandon, so that if Amare was out there somewhere, she might still find him.

    “They call it a ‘suspected attack,’ but we know better,” Hunter said. “Ghost wraiths don’t come to play. Keep your eyes open, your heads down, and don’t let yourselves get eaten.”

    “Sir, yes, sir!”

    “Check weapons,” Hunter ordered.

    Zev’s hand fell to the long blade1 sheathed at his right hip. Close combat was his strength, and he trusted the blade more than anything else. Still, he carried two modified Santi Corp hyper-comp pistols2, each holstered on a thigh. He double-checked his ammo clips, each loaded with liquid-steel bullets designed to burn through a ghost wraith’s green blood like acid. Speed and accurate aim were key. One well-placed shot to the head could end the threat permanently. If that failed, a swift beheading with the blade was standard procedure.

    Satisfied with his gear, Zev gripped the hilt of his sword and gave Hunter a quick nod. There was little need for words before a mission; Guardians understood they lived and died by each other’s trust.

    Their transport lurched to a stop. A crackling voice blared through the truck’s intercom.

    “Strike Force Commander reports a confirmed sighting,” came the driver’s clipped voice. “Three packs of approximately ten ghost wraiths each are stalking the village at midpoint. Simba Recon has deployed to the east. Swala’s units will cover the west. I’ve brought you as close to the border as I can.”

    “Roger,” Hunter said, hitting the button to release the doors.

    He leaped out first, helmet locked in place, pistol ready. Zev followed, his own helmet sealing with a soft hiss, and behind him came Saul and Noah. Five other Swala units spilled out around them.

    They found themselves in front of a dense forest. A narrow road led toward the village, but ghost wraiths rarely took roads, preferring shadowy undergrowth for cover while hunting. With a curt nod to the team leaders on either side, Hunter signaled for everyone to move into the thick greenery.

    Zev inhaled the moist, earthy air, keenly aware that his helmet had already begun recording every second.

    “Proximity: four hundred meters,” announced the AI’s measured voice, echoing in Zev’s earpiece.

    He left his blade sheathed for the moment, opting for his pistols. Their first shots would give away their position, so every trigger pull had to count.

    “Two hundred meters,” the AI announced a heartbeat later.

    Zev slowed, muscles tense. He could hear the rustling of something large moving through the brush. Adrenaline thrummed in his veins. He chanced a glance at Hunter’s black cloak, which marked him as a higher grade. If Zev could survive enough missions, log enough successful battles, he could eventually earn that black cloak, and perhaps catch the eye of the elite Strike Force Squad. Their presence tonight, even if brief, might be an opportunity for him and his team.

    Their presence tonight, even if brief, might be an opportunity for him and his team.

    Hunter crouched low, weapon raised, and Zev did the same. Beyond them, he spotted the roving pack of ghost wraiths. Some prowled the ground; others leaped from branch to branch with sinuous ease, their dark skin glistening under stray moonbeams. Each creature had a spiked, porcupine-like tail and a jaw lined with rows of sharp, lethal teeth, fully capable of tearing a man apart in seconds.

    A memory flashed of two such beasts devouring Gen, and Zev shuddered.

    “Focus,” Hunter’s voice cut into his earpiece.

    Zev steadied his breath, pushing aside the haunting image.

    “Fire in five,” Hunter said quietly, counting down. “Four. Three. Two. One. Mark.”

    Zev aligned his sights on the closest ghost wraith, squeezed the trigger, and watched his bullet find its mark near the creature’s head. It dropped to the ground. Around him, the rest of the squad fired in near-unison, felling several wraiths. With their numbers reduced, the remaining wraiths charged the Guardians in a frenzy.

    Zev holstered both pistols, drew his long blade, and braced for the clash. Lightning carved the sky, thunder close behind, and an unearthly chorus of roars and screams filled the forest.

    The blade’s handle was etched with symbols: a flame to represent the Theria Guild, and short lines beneath it for every battle Zev had survived. He had fought eighteen so far; two more would qualify him for a chance to ascend the ranks, and bring him closer to discovering Amare’s fate.

    “Proximity: two meters,” the AI announced just before the first wraith lunged.

    Zev swung the blade in a brutal arc, connecting with the creature’s neck. Its head hit the ground in a splatter of iridescent green blood. He sprang out of reach of another wraith’s jaws, driving his blade into its forehead when it staggered. Faster than he’d imagined, he was locked in a deadly dance, slashing, shooting, and sidestepping gnashing fangs and lashing tails.

    Overhead, thunder rumbled in a punishing staccato, matched by the sickening crunch of steel slicing into flesh. Zev fought on, determined to outlast the storm.

    ****

    By morning, Zev stood in the shower stall of his quarters at Swala Oasis, hot water pounding against his sore muscles. Days like this felt surreal. As a child, he never imagined becoming a guardian. That dream had belonged to his younger brother, Grey. But after Grey and Silas died, and Amare went missing, the Guild had offered Zev the only outlet for his raging grief.

    He rubbed at a knot of tension under his shoulder, remembering how Amare would wait for him outside his class with a ready smile and a small bag of sugarcane. The memory stabbed him like a dull blade. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cool tiled wall, forcing himself to breathe until the pain dulled. Wherever she was, he prayed she was alive, that she would find a way back to him, or he to her.

    Taking deep breaths, Zev slapped the shower button off and grabbed a towel from the shower-stall rail. He dried fast and stepped out, grabbing the second towel on the rack to dry his short locs.

    Barefoot, he walked to the sink and peered into the mirror above it. He pulled the towel off his head and leaned in to look at the fine line on his neck.

    Tonight’s mistake, he thought, running his index finger over the fine cut.

    A ghost wraith managed to dislodge his helmet at the thickest moment of the fight. One of its claws scraped his skin as he fought to get free from beneath it.

    Zev opened the medicine cabinet hidden behind the mirror and retrieved a large tube. He smeared on a dab of the Guild-issued medicinal cream and felt the sting recede.

    His hair was cut short on the sides, with his locs growing long on the top of his head. He let them grow because of his sister, Amare. Ignoring the fact that his locs were still damp, Zev picked up a leather tie from the counter and secured them in a tight ponytail.

    He dressed quickly in a T-shirt and shorts, depositing his damp towels in the laundry bin.

    When he stepped into the main room, his two best friends, Noah and Saul, were already there. Noah lounged on Zev’s bed, the glass screen on the far wall playing cartoons at low volume, while Saul perched at the reading desk, feet propped up, tapping at a video game on his phone.

    “Squad Leader sure likes to take his time in the shower,” Noah teased, tossing the remote onto the bed and rotating to face Zev. “Did the green goop3 clog your locs?”

    “Shut up.” Zev managed a small grin. “Why are you guys here this early?”

    “We wanted to check on you,” Saul said, rising from the desk and crossing the room. He gently lifted Zev’s chin, examining the cut on his neck.

    “You almost got eaten out there,” Noah added, scooting upright.

    “Your head looks best right where it is,” Saul said, dropping his hand. “Try not to lose it.”

    Zev let out a breath. He appreciated their concern. The night’s battle had cost three Guardians their lives. Hunter would oversee their final rites. The Theria Guild would manage the funerals, and Guardian Command would notify the families.

    Zev hated to imagine how his own parents would react if ever faced with that dreaded knock on the door. Not that he had heard from them in the last four years. His father had stopped sending him messages on his birthday.

    Zev rubbed his forehead. Still, he didn’t want to put his parents through more pain, so he needed to train harder.

    Saul cleared his throat. “Because we lost three, we’ll be getting two new recruits from the qualifiers in the fourth squad.”

    Zev stifled a groan. He knew what that meant: more responsibilities for him, Noah, and Saul. Their four-man team was ranked first among the cadets in Swala, which always earned them the task of training newcomers.

    “Give them a copy of the new training schedule,” Zev said, dragging himself to a shabby couch and sinking onto the cushions. He rested his head back, closing his eyes for a moment.

    “We also came by because there’s news from the main office,” Saul said, folding his arms.

    “What kind of news?” Zev asked, sounding more indifferent than he felt.

    “There is a Strike Force commander in-house,” Noah said. “He stopped here on his way to the capital city, Kirit. He wanted information about last night’s mission.”

    Zev sat up fast. He had waited so long for a chance at the Strike Force.

    “We can try to meet him in the mess hall,” Saul said. “We can ask him how to join the Strike Force. Either that or how to move to Sokwe Recon in the capital. We each have one more battle left before we strike twenty. We’ll be qualified to move up the ranks.”

    A spark of excitement flared in Zev’s chest. He had been working toward the Strike Force for years. If this commander had taken note of their squad’s performance, it might be the break Zev, Noah, and Saul needed.

    Black tattoos decorated his arms from his wrists to his elbows. Black chevrons4 to count the number of battles he had survived. Just like his sword, the chevrons reminded him of the number of times he returned alive from battle. He was two chevrons away from reaching twenty battles.

    After last night’s battle, he needed to add one more chevron on his right arm today, making them nineteen. This meant he only needed one more battle, and he would be at twenty.

    Twenty was a qualifying number to shift squads. Sokwe Recon would take him, Noah, and Saul. Then they could find a way to get into the Strike Force.

    Zev sat up straight. “It’s nearly seven,” he said, nodding at the clock on the screen. “Breakfast. Let’s head to the mess hall. If the Strike Force commander’s still around, maybe we’ll get lucky.”

    Wearing his socks and boots, he led the way.

    Behind him, Noah and Saul fell in step, their camaraderie as steadfast as the bonds of any true family, and for Zev, it might be the only family he could really trust until he found Amare again.

    <<Previous | TOC | Next>>

    Footnotes:

    1. Long blade – This is a specialized close-combat weapon used by Guardians of the Theria Guild in their fight against the ghost wraiths. ↩︎
    2. A hyper-comp pistol is a specialized firearm developed and modified by Santi Corp for use by Guardians in the Theria Guild in their fight against the ghost wraiths. They are referred to as modified Santi Corp hyper-comp pistols. The pistols have a compact black slide and silver barrels. They utilize specialized ammunition known as liquid-steel bullets. The technology for these bullets is calibrated by Santi Corp. ↩︎
    3. Green goop refers to the ghost wraith’s green blood. ↩︎
    4. Black Chevron tattoos -The chevrons are used to count the number of battles cadets have survived. They are pictured below. ↩︎
    Zev Chevrons

  • Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage -7

    Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage -7

    Zev returned home after finishing his session with Miss Leya at the academy. He carried a folder containing his class transfer paperwork and an admission letter to the Theria Guild Oasis nearest his home, Sokwe Recon Oasis, which managed the cadet program called Swala Force.1 Upon stepping inside, he found his parents still deep in mourning. Grief clung to every corner of the house, so heavy that he could not bring himself to speak of his decision.

    Luca Mablevi, his father, had moved out of Amare’s room. Though lucid again, he burned with a single-minded obsession: to find Amare. Each morning, he left to track down Officer Kwaro, determined to uncover even the smallest clue. Zev feared Officer Kwaro would never rest until Amare was found. Luca did not return home most nights.

    Zev’s mother, Elina, was even less present. She had locked herself in Grey and Silas’s room, shutting out the rest of the household. She paid no mind to Zev or his intentions.

    On the morning Zev departed for the Sokwe Recon Oasis, he told his grandmother only that he was going to school. She nodded in distracted acknowledgment, then carried a bowl of porridge to Elina, who lay curled on Grey’s bed. No one accompanied Zev to the training compound. Instead, he boarded a public Mobibus2 alone, one duffel bag in hand. It held a single change of clothes and a photograph of his family.

    When he arrived at the Sokwe Recon Oasis Training Compound, mid-morning rain drummed on the rooftops. An officer in a khaki uniform met him at the gate and escorted him to the admission hall, where Zev formally registered with the Theria Guild. From there, he was taken to the disbursement center, where two cheerful officers handed over three sets of uniforms, three pairs of socks, two pairs of boots, two sweaters, and a Theria Guild blazer. They stamped his name and officer number on a pair of tags, directing him to the trainee quarters.

    In what felt like the blink of an eye, Zev, at seventeen, became part of the most powerful army in the Afrotheria Empire. He had joined one of the most feared and revered forces in the land: the Theria Guild Guardians.

    In his heart, he knew why. The rage that consumed him traced back to the night he watched a pack of ghost wraiths tear apart his brothers, Grey and Silas, and leave him powerless to protect Amare.
    If not for those ghost wraiths, he might have kept Amare safe. That thought tormented him, guilt and grief roiling beneath every breath. He forced the darkness aside but could not silence it completely.

    The next morning, he found himself on the training field, lungs aflame and side aching as he sprinted for the red line painted across the track. Sweat stung his eyes. He pushed himself harder and managed to cross the finish line just as his legs threatened to buckle. He collapsed to his knees, gasping for air.

    “Again, Mablevi!” the instructor roared, his whistle shrilling in the damp air. “You’re too slow. One second too late, and you’re ghost wraith bait. Get up and do it again!”

    Zev glared at the instructor, torn between resentment and admiration. There were fifteen cadets in his class, and their merciless trainer intended to whip them into shape through endless drills and punishing runs. Every muscle in Zev’s body burned. His lungs felt as though they might never inflate properly again.

    A firm hand grasped his left arm, pulling him upright before he could even consider surrendering to the tarmac. Zev looked up, meeting the friendly grin of an older boy.

    “He won’t stop hollering until you quit collapsing at the line,” the boy said. “I’m Saul. I joined a month before you. The trick is to stay on your feet until you’re off the track.”

    Zev nodded, though he doubted he could remain upright another moment. A second boy, about his age, appeared on his right.
    “I’m Noah. I can pace you so you cut your time,” Noah offered.
    They returned to the starting line, Zev wedged between them.

    The instructor blew the whistle, and they bolted forward. This time, Noah and Saul stayed at his sides, giving him a sense of unity he hadn’t felt since losing his brothers. For a moment, it felt as if training might be bearable.

    Three days later, Zev realized how over his head he truly was.
    He stood in a Santi Corp Simulation Training Room3, wearing crisp white cadet armor and a pair of smart VR glasses perched on his nose. In his hand, he clutched a Santi Sword specially modified for simulation battles.

    “Mablevi, you’re seventeen and have never set foot in a simulation room,” the instructor’s voice echoed around the domed chamber. “You’re behind everyone else, so you’ll need to work twice as hard to catch up. We’re starting you at the most basic level. Here’s your first test: You’re in a forested village in the Teru hills, under threat of a ghost wraith reap. You don’t know how large the incoming pack is, only that it moves fast and will decimate any unprotected area. Your objective is to neutralize any ghost wraiths heading your way. Mission Commence: Cadet Mablevi, Basic Simulation 001, start!”

    At once, the training room went dark, and a lush forest materialized before him under a bright sun. Birds chirped overhead in an almost cheerful cacophony. Zev had barely stepped forward when a ghost wraith lunged out of nowhere. His reaction came too late.

    The simulation ended.

    “You are dead,” the instructor announced flatly. “An entire village would have fallen, Cadet. Rule number one: focus. This is not a game. No one’s coming to save you, you’re the one who must do the saving. Mission Commence: Cadet Mablevi, Basic Simulation 002, start!”

    No one’s coming to save you, you’re the one who must do the saving.

    He died ten more times, managing only two steps each attempt.
    By the fifteenth session he managed five steps. He hoped that by the thirtieth he might at least see the wraith before it shredded him. The ghost wraiths’ speed shook him to the core, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he had what it took to become a true guardian.

    Time marched on, and Zev turned eighteen at the Sokwe Recon Oasis. On his birthday, two messages arrived on his Theria Guild console. The first was from Officer Kwaro, who wrote that two more girls had vanished after Amare, leaving only the faintest traces behind.

    The second message was from his father, Luca: “We’re doing better. Happy birthday, Son.”

    Zev replied to neither. Instead, he immersed himself in training. He had just received his Theria Guild combat armor4, far heavier than the white cadet gear he’d worn before. Crafted from advanced metal and flexible fabric, it conformed to his body while shielding him from most ghost wraith attacks.

    Still, a ghost wraith’s bite was brutal enough to tear through an arm if it latched on hard and long. Only speed and skill could keep him safe.

    The armor came in two pieces: trousers and a matching vest. His feet were in steel-toed military boots that required a fresh kind of dexterity to run and fight in. Fine black steel gloves protected his hands, while a helmet, engineered by Santi Corp, offered communication, real-time health tracking, and mission monitoring.

    Every strike, dodge, and clash against a ghost wraith was recorded and analyzed by KISTech Researchers, who studied ghost wraith behavior, and by Theria Guild technicians, who used it for weapons development and advanced training.

    Sometimes Zev caught himself studying the helmet’s inner workings, an echo of the technological fascination he once held. But that dream had evaporated with the old life he’d left behind. Now he was a Theria Guild Guardian whose sole mission was to protect the people and destroy ghost wraiths.

    Finally, he received a cloak, clipped to his shoulders. Its color changed by rank; his was green5. The most revered cloak in the Theria Guild was red, reserved for the elite Strike Force Squad; an elusive unit that enjoyed unfettered freedom and resources. None knew exactly how to join, only that they accepted the absolute best.
    Zev vowed he would someday wear that red cloak.

    For four years after his eighteenth birthday, he lived, breathed, and trained for one goal: to earn a place in the Strike Force Squad, and to avenge the brothers and the life he had lost.

    <<Previous | TOC | Next>>

    Footnotes:

    1. The Swala Force is a unit within the Theria Guild Guardians, which is Afrotheria’s powerful army tasked with protecting its citizens from ghost wraiths. It serves as the starting point for newest recruits in the Theria Guild. ↩︎
    2. Mobibus – a public bus powered by solar power. ↩︎
    3. The Santi Corp Simulation Training Room is a specialized, large, dome-like chamber used by the Theria Guild Guardians for training purposes. Cadets, such as Zev Mablevi, use this room to practice combating ghost wraiths in simulated environments. ↩︎
    4. The Theria Guild Combat armor is a sophisticated and heavy protective gear worn by Guardians, the members of Afrotheria’s powerful army. This armor is distinct from the lighter cadet gear worn by new recruits during simulation training. ↩︎
    5. The Theria Guild Guardians wear cloaks, and the color of the cloak indicates a Guardian’s rank. Green Cloak: This is the color worn by Staff Sergeant Zev Mablevi, indicating his rank. Black Cloak: This color is worn by a squad leader. The Red Cloak is the “most revered cloak” in the Theria Guild and is reserved for the elite Strike Force Squad. These Guardians are the “absolute best” and are part of an elusive unit with unfettered freedom and resources. ↩︎
  • Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 6

    Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 6

    Zev never reached Gen.

    Strong hands seized him by the shoulders of his jacket, hauled him back, and slammed him flat onto the grass. His face pressed into dirt, his mouth filling with the taste of grass and dirt. He tried to twist free, but someone held him down with unyielding strength.

    “Stay put!” commanded a harsh voice above him. “Alpha Team, we have five targets around the compound, unknown civilian casualties in the cottage. One survivor here, in custody. Send a suppression team.”

    Zev struggled, barely able to move under the warrior’s grip. “My brothers,” he gasped, spitting out pieces of grass. “They’re behind the house, seven and five, there’s a six-year-old friend with them!”

    The unseen speaker relayed that information calmly.

    “Young survivors reported at the rear of the house.”

    “Let me go!” Zev snapped, desperation swallowing his fear. “I can help, let me find them!”

    “We let you go, you’ll get yourself torn to shreds,” came the brusque reply. “That little axe of yours won’t do a damned thing.”

    “How would you know?” Zev spat. Fury coursed through him, but the man clamped down harder.

    Then, just as quickly, the pressure lifted. He found himself hauled upright, forced into a kneeling position. From that vantage, Zev glimpsed five figures in green armor charging the ghost wraiths skulking near the shattered walls of Gen’s house. He recognized the armor immediately, Theria Guild Guardians.

    One Guardian leaped onto a towering wraith’s back with terrifying agility. A silver sword crackled with lightning in his hands, and he drove it deep into the wraith’s neck. The creature collapsed in a splatter of green blood, its roar abruptly silenced.

    “Think your axe could pull that off?” the same gruff voice asked, a hint of grimness in his tone.

    Zev’s stomach twisted, and he sank back, trembling at the sight of the other wraiths shrieking in rage. Thunder boomed overhead, and lightning streaked across an angry sky.

    In a deadly dance of violence, the Guardians clashed with the pack, blades sparking, monstrous roars rising to the heavens. Blood, thick and green from the wraiths, bright red from wounded Guardians, splashed the debris-littered yard.

    The fight was ferocious and short: five minutes of savage chaos. Then, eerie silence fell.

    Zev’s captor released him, but Zev no longer had the strength to stand. He remained on his knees, breath quivering, eyes fixed on the front door of Gen’s home. He could not bear to imagine what awaited inside, could not let himself think of Gen. Nor could he stop thinking about his little brothers somewhere in the back.

    “Kijana1,” the Guardian called from the threshold, switching abruptly to a terse directive in a language Zev recognized all too well. “We need identification. Kuja hapa2.” Come here.

    He rose shakily, dread fueling his stumbling sprint to the door. The man who beckoned him had removed his helmet, revealing dark war paint around his eyes. His red cloak, clipped onto the shoulders of his dented armor, was ragged at the ends.

    Zev swallowed, fighting nausea. The Guardian clamped a firm hand on his shoulder, steering him deeper into the ruined house before he could protest. A familiar sunny yellow paint covered the living room walls, but rubble, splintered furniture, and smeared blood painted a far darker picture.

    “W-where is Gen?” Zev managed, voice unsteady.

    The Guardian’s tone softened. “I’m sorry.”

    Zev blinked at him, not understanding at first. “Why—?”

    “Ghost wraiths leave nothing to claim for a funeral. Today is an exception,” a second guardian said, pointing to the small hallway leading to the kitchen.

    The second guardian wore his helmet, so all Zev saw was the black body armor stained with green ghost wraith blood. Zev followed the pointing finger, and a shout wrenched out of him. He saw small sneakers, bright green, Silas’s favorite color. He forgot every other presence in the house, lunging across the broken remains of chairs, shards of glass crunching underfoot. When he reached the kitchen doorway, he fell to his knees.

    There, just inside the rear door, Grey lay motionless across Silas, both of them still. Blood seeped through torn clothing, and Zev’s mind whirled with dizzying denial. He lifted the small sneaker in trembling hands, a keening sound tearing from his throat. It drowned out everything: the Guardians, the thunder in the sky, even his own heartbeat.

    His family did not survive the reckoning that the ghost wraiths visited upon Gathu Village. The election-day bustle and the newly tallied votes became meaningless in the face of such loss. Gen’s son and Zev’s two younger brothers, Silas and Grey, were simply gone. Any fragment of normalcy shattered the moment Zev realized the ghost wraiths had claimed them.

    Standing in the wreckage of Gen’s home, Zev felt numb as the Theria Guild’s Guardians coordinated with the local policing department and medical officers. He couldn’t bring himself to say a word when his parents arrived, the Theria Guild officer in charge stepping in to explain. Elina Mablevi spent hours holding her sons’ still forms, sobbing inconsolably. Luca, wrestling with his own grief, finally asked one of the officers to escort Zev home, worried about Amare.

    Zev moved in a daze, climbing into the Guild’s utility vehicle without protest. His mind barely registered the route or the fact that the driver already knew where he lived. All clarity returned, however, when he saw the front door of their house standing ajar, its wood splintered.

    “Amare!” he shouted, fear tightening in his chest. He bolted out of the vehicle, dashing through the ruined doorway. “Ama!”

    A Guardian stood at the threshold. “What’s wrong?”

    “My sister,” Zev said, tearing through the main room and into Amare’s bedroom. Switching on the light, he found only a neat, empty bed. Panic thundered in his ears. “She’s not here. Amare is not here!”

    The Guardian alerted his team, but they found no clue as to where she had gone or who might have taken her. The house itself showed no sign of a wraith attack, no claw marks, no structural damage other than the hacked-apart door. It was clearly the work of a human hand.

    And so began the search for Amare Mablevi, who vanished on the same day the ghost wraiths ravaged the village. Her belongings lay where Zev had last seen them, untouched.

    The Theria Guild deemed her disappearance a criminal matter, one for the Gathu Village Police Station rather than their own scope.

    Despair settled heavily over the Mablevi home. Grief consumed Elina, Luca, and Zev, each wrestling with the deaths of Silas and Grey. The family buried the two boys three days after Amare vanished, alongside numerous other victims of the wraith invasion. Any flicker of hope was smothered by the absence of their missing daughter and sister.

    Unable to remain in that sorrowful house, Zev practically lived at the local police station, hoping for any development that might bring Amare home. Two weeks dragged by. Two weeks marked by silence.

    One afternoon, Zev found himself seated in the station’s small lobby, staring blankly at a large glass screen on the far wall.

    News outlets broadcast the swearing-in ceremony of the new Elderon, Izra Taj, and his Chancellor, Kakura Jafar. Elderon Taj had paid tribute to Gathu Village, promising more Guardians for the Swala Oasis, but Zev couldn’t fathom how that helped him or his shattered family. Zev scoffed at the screen, uncomfortably aware that it was too late for his parents or for him. His family was down to him and his parents. The thought made him feel sick to the stomach.

    On the screen, Izra Taj placed his right hand on an ancient charter book, reciting his oath before the Head of Justice. “I, Izra Taj, do swear with honor that I shall guard the founding charter of the Empire of Afrotheria…”

    Behind him stood a woman and a girl about Zev’s age. She wore black, her long braids pulled back tightly, a sorrowful expression on her face. Zev wondered vaguely what might trouble the Elderon’s daughter. But his thoughts snapped back to the moment when the doors to the inner office swished open.

    Officer Kwaro, charged with investigating Amare’s disappearance, approached.

    Zev leaped to his feet. “Any news, Officer?”

    Kwaro shook his head, eyes flicking with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Zev. It’s been two weeks, and we still haven’t found any leads. I must be honest, the trail’s getting cold. We don’t have the manpower or resources the Theria Guild does.”

    Zev’s stomach twisted. “Then what am I supposed to do?” he asked, voice low and tight with frustration. “Why isn’t the village head doing more? Malachi hasn’t said a word about all this.”

    Kwaro glanced around the lobby, noticing other families waiting for their own updates. Lowering his voice, he clasped Zev’s arm and guided him out through the station’s main door and into the stark sunlight of the parking lot.

    “Look, Zev,” Kwaro said softly, genuine regret in his tone. “I see how much you care. You’re here every day, sleeping on that bench some nights. That alone tells me you’d do anything to find your sister. But I need to be straight with you. Four other girls have gone missing this year under the same circumstances: home alone, door hacked open, not a single clue left behind. We haven’t recovered a single one.”

    The words struck Zev like a physical blow. He swayed. “So…Amare is the fifth?” he whispered. “How is this not public knowledge? How can Malachi stay silent?”

    Kwaro’s gaze shifted, troubled. “I can’t speak for him, or what’s going on behind closed doors. I only know there’s an open case, five missing girls now, including your sister. And we’re nowhere closer to finding them.”

    Zev’s breath shook. “If you can’t do anything…who can I turn to?”

    “The Theria Guild,” Kwaro said simply. “They have resources and networks we don’t. We’re a small village force. We manage routine crimes, petty disputes. For something on this scale, we need help from a higher authority. But we have no direct line to the Guild, there’s been little cooperation.”

    “I’m not trying to scare you, Zev,” Officer Kwaro said after a moment. “I promise I won’t stop looking for Amare, but—”

    A cold weight settled in Zev’s chest. “You’re telling me I should join the Guardians?” he asked, a sense of horror creeping in. He thought of his little brother, Grey, once fascinated by the idea of becoming a protector. Grey would never get the chance now. Grey’s dream had died with him.

    Kwaro placed a firm hand on Zev’s shoulder. “I know it sounds extreme, but it might be your best shot. The Guardians live in a closed world, but if one of our own joined them, we could finally access their resources. They might be able to find those missing girls, your sister included.”

    “I’ve tried to reach out to the Guardians but had no luck. Our village has had no volunteers for the Theria Guild, so we have no allies among them. You also know how wary everyone in the village is of the Guardians. The Guardians are not comfortable working with us, or us with them. If you join, we’ll get an advantage because you know us. It will be different with you, Zev. I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry this is the best our station can do. You think on it.”

    Zev shut his eyes, grief and fury tangling into a knot that threatened to crush him. He was days away from an apprenticeship at Santi Corp, set on a path in the Tech Class. And yet here he stood, faced with a choice that contradicted everything he’d planned.

    Officer Kwaro gave him a moment, then spoke again, voice quiet. “I won’t stop investigating, Zev. But to be frank, we’re out of our depth. It’s no coincidence that all these abductions took place during times of chaos, like the wraith attack on Gathu Village. Whoever is doing this knows exactly when to strike. We need more resources, or we may never find them.”

    Tears burned at the edges of Zev’s vision, but he forced them down. His parents were mired in their own grief, too shattered to offer direction or solace. His little sister was out there, somewhere, taken by a stranger or strangers in the middle of a cataclysmic ghost wraith attack. He felt emptier with every passing hour, every unanswered question.

    He looked at Kwaro, voice hoarse. “Thank you, Officer. I—just let me know if anything changes.”

    Kwaro nodded. “Of course. And remember what I said: the Theria Guild might be the one place equipped to uncover the truth.”

    Zev could only muster a numb nod. When he finally walked away, he saw the reflection of his haggard face in the station’s glass doors. He looked like someone who’d lived a lifetime in two weeks, someone whose world had been torn to pieces.

    Home was lost, and the ones who might have helped him were drowning in their own sorrow. If he wanted answers, if he wanted any hope of bringing Amare back, he would have to find them on his own, even if it meant walking into a world he had never planned to enter.

    In that moment, Zev understood that his life had been irrevocably altered.

    For the first time, he truly confronted the possibility that his only chance of finding Amare lay in joining the very guardians his village held in deep awe and wariness. A bitter, hollow ache wrapped around his heart. Everything in him recoiled at the idea, yet the thought of those four other missing girls gnawed at him. If he did nothing, Amare’s trail might vanish forever.

    The prospect of giving up his future at Santi Corp and embracing a life in the Theria Guild terrified him. But as he stepped into the dusty street outside the station, Zev realized he might not have a choice. If he wanted to save Amare, he needed to become the very thing his family had always feared.

    Zev walked home beneath a sky dimming toward twilight, Officer Kwaro’s advice echoing in his mind. Along the way, villagers stopped him, offering condolences for his brothers’ deaths and well-meant hopes that Amare would soon return.

    Yet in their eyes, Zev saw shadows of doubt. Most believed she, too, had been lost to the recent ghost wraith attack. But he refused to accept that. Amare was alive, taken, perhaps, but alive.

    He stepped through the gate of his family’s home, finding the front door ajar. Inside, his grandmother quietly moved through the house, preparing the evening meal and tidying up. She caught his eye as he entered but said nothing, her expression heavy with sadness.

    The muffled sound of his mother’s sobs drifted down the hallway from Grey and Silas’s room. His father, he knew, was in Amare’s bedroom, sitting on her bed without speaking or moving for hours at a time.

    The entire house felt stifling with grief. Every breath Zev took felt weighed down by sorrow. He managed a few sips of warm milk in the kitchen before retreating to his own room, shutting the door against the unbearable ache saturating the air.

    He sank into his chair, logging into Luna VR and entering the Pink Piggy workspace he’d built over three years. The virtual space flickered to life, revealing rows of digital cards and prototypes scattered across long code tables. Waweru—Weru—waited for him there, concern etched into his avatar’s expression.

    “I’m so sorry about your brothers,” Weru said, pulling Zev into a rough, virtual hug. “And Amare…I still can’t believe she’s missing. How are you holding up?”

    Zev rubbed a hand over his face as though he could banish the exhaustion. “We’re not doing great,” he admitted. “My parents are…shattered. And I don’t have any leads on Amare.”

    Weru’s sympathy showed in the slump of his shoulders. “I wish I could do more. Everybody at school’s been worried, waiting to see you. Miss Leya wants you to confirm your apprenticeship paperwork for Santi Corp.”

    A chill darted through Zev. He thought of the conversation with Officer Kwaro, about how only the Theria Guild might help him find Amare. “I’m…not sure I’ll do that,” he said quietly. “Things have changed.”

    Weru’s eyes widened. “You love tech. Santi Corp is your dream.”

    “I can’t talk about it,” Zev muttered, shaking his head. The mere thought of giving up the Pink Piggy, a creation that Amare had enthusiastically championed, stung. “What about you? When do you leave for KISTech?”

    “Next week,” Weru answered, managing a subdued smile.

    “Congrats,” Zev said, though the word tasted hollow on his tongue.

    Weru hesitated. “I could come by, you know. Visit your house instead of meeting like this in VR.”

    Zev pictured his mother’s tear-stained face, his father’s vacant stare. “It’s…not a good idea,” he managed. “I can’t really explain how things are right now.”

    Weru nodded, understanding flickering in his gaze. “All right. I’m here if you need anything.”

    “Thanks,” Zev murmured. “I need to log off. I’ll call you soon.”

    Zev waved at his friend and logged his avatar out of their shared space. Removing his Luna VR glasses, he found Dahlian’s UserID and sent her a message.

    Pink_Piggy to Dahlian: Are you free to talk?
    Dahlian to Pink_Piggy: Now you decide to show up? I’ve sent you countless messages and got nothing. WTH?
    Pink_Piggy to Dahlian: I’m sorry. It’s…personal stuff. Do you have time?
    Dahlian to Pink_Piggy: Sure. Meet at the Pink Piggy?
    Pink_Piggy to Dahlian: No. Invite me to a private room. I have something to give you.
    Dahlian to Pink_Piggy: Done. Check your DM for an invite link.

    The private room turned out to be a charming virtual café, complete with cozy tables and a window overlooking a digital re-creation of Kirit’s bustling streets. Dahlian, looking unexpectedly relaxed, sat at one of the tables. A steaming mug of coffee rested in front of her. Even in this avatar form, Zev noticed how her warm brown skin contrasted with a sleek black outfit, and how her braids framed her face.

    He kept his Pink Piggy mask—white cartoon pig ears and all—though she had chosen not to hide herself. The difference only highlighted the dissonance between their worlds.

    “Fancy place,” Zev remarked, sliding into the chair opposite her.

    She flashed a playful smile. “I wondered if you’d keep that mask. I’m glad you did, it’s nice to see you again, Piggy.”

    “You’re…unmasked,” Zev said, noting details of her appearance. She was striking in a soft, subtle way that made him feel a pang of wistfulness.

    “This is my private domain,” Dahlian explained. “No one else can see me here, so I’m not worried. Besides, you’ve never tried to dox me or anything.”

    Zev gave a halfhearted chuckle, his gaze drifting to the café’s virtual window. The simulated traffic crawled past in endless lines. “Is Kirit really that crowded?”

    “It is.” Dahlian shrugged. “I wouldn’t know what to do in a quiet place. Probably go crazy without the horns and MobiGari noise.”

    Zev swallowed. “I’m from the countryside,” he admitted, though he wouldn’t specify where. “It’s…different.”

    She studied him with open curiosity. “So, what’s this about? You asked me here. Something about your code?”
    Zev thought about the code Dahlian wanted to use. He had completed it the night before the elections.

    He had wanted to do more before sharing it with her, but the decision he needed to make now meant he would not get the chance to develop it further.

    He thought she was the only person who would have use for it.

    Zev sighed, retrieving a small digital card from a pocket in his VR interface. He placed it on the table between them.

    “I updated the code you want, though it is still a work in progress. I’m giving you permission to use it in your research. This card holds the full version. It’s yours now.”
    Dahlian’s eyes lit up, and she picked up the card gingerly. “Thank you! But…this feels like a goodbye, Pink Piggy. Why?”

    “I’m going away,” Zev said, letting go of a lifelong dream. He let out a soft sigh and faced Dahlian. “I’m closing the Pink Piggy. At least for now. I won’t be able to maintain it.”

    Alarm flickered across her features. “Close it? You built this brand from scratch, helped so many with your plug-ins. Why give it up?”

    Zev shrugged, his gaze going back to the busy street. He would have liked to visit Weru at KISTech in Kirit. Maybe visit the Santi Corp Headquarters in the capital when he was older. That would have been a sight to see.

    “It’s just something I have to do,” Zev said, voice tight with emotion. “I can’t…explain it all. But I need to step away. If—if things work out someday, maybe I’ll return to it and make it a real store. My sister always wanted that.” He paused, throat constricting. “But for now…this is the end.”
    Dahlian glanced between the code card and Zev’s mask, concern clouding her expression. “If you really need to stop, I understand. Still, if you’d rather someone keep it running in your absence, I can help—”

    He shook his head, the memory of Amare’s animated chatter about a future Pink Piggy storefront hitting him like a wave. “No,” he said quietly. “It just hurts too much right now. I—I’d rather it stays dormant.”

    For a moment, she said nothing. Then she gently tucked the card away.

    “All right,” Dahlian said. “If that’s what you want.”
    “It is,” Zev said. “I wanted you to have the code I’ve been working on in case it helps you find a breakthrough on fighting the ghost wraiths. Promise to work on it.”

    “I promise I’ll work on your code. It’s too brilliant to go to waste. You have my word.”

    Zev nodded, pushing back from the table. “Thank you. I won’t forget this.”

    She stood as well, stepping close enough to rest a hand on his arm. “Something bad happened, didn’t it?” she asked softly, searching his masked face. “I can tell you’re hurting.”

    Zev swallowed hard, unable to keep the tears from falling in the real world. He had no way to explain the absolute tragedy ravaging his family. “It’s complicated.”

    Her voice dropped to a comforting hush. “If you ever want to talk, or just sit here and stare at digital Kirit, this space is open to you. I won’t change the link code. You’re welcome anytime. Deal?”

    Zev smiled and looked at the glass windows and the virtual view of Kirit Capital beyond.

    “I suppose staring at the MobiGaris packing the street is soothing in a way,” Zev said.

    “I’ll update the street view to match the actual street often,” Dahlian said with a grin.

    He exhaled slowly. “Deal,” he managed, summoning a faint smile. “See you, Dahlian. Good luck with your research.”

    She answered with a gentle nod, her eyes full of concern. “Good luck to you, too.”

    Zev logged out, removing his VR glasses with a trembling hand. He had never felt so uncertain about the future.

    That night, he methodically shut down the Pink Piggy’s virtual shop, archiving years of work with a few taps. Each click was a small heartbreak.

    Morning found him at the academy, standing outside Miss Leya’s office. The halls were emptier than usual, students either graduating or off to new classes.

    At her desk, Miss Leya reviewed the final forms for apprenticeship placements. She looked up in surprise when Zev presented a different document.

    “You’re submitting a change-of-class form?” Miss Leya asked, stunned. “I thought you were set for Santi Corp.”

    Zev held himself stiffly. “I can’t do it anymore. I need to switch from Tech Class to the Protector Class.” He swallowed, recalling how helpless he’d felt watching the Guardians fight the ghost wraiths. “I have my reasons.”

    Miss Leya’s face tightened with sympathy.

    “Zev,” she whispered, “I know about your losses. But please, reconsider. Transitioning to the Protector Class is difficult. You’ll be behind students who’ve trained for years.”

    “I have no choice,” Zev cut in, blinking back tears. “If I’d been stronger, my brothers might still be alive. My sister might still be here.” The weight of that realization pressed down on him until he could barely stand.

    Miss Leya pressed trembling fingers to her mouth. “You can’t know that,” she said softly.

    He shook his head. “I know how I felt that day, helpless. I can’t go on that way.”

    She glanced at the form, then back at him. “And the apprenticeship? You’re a rare talent, Zev. I hate to see you throw it away like this.”

    “I’m not throwing my tech skills away,” he said, voice low but determined. “I’ll use them in the Theria Guild if I can. Whatever it takes to protect the people I have left, and maybe find my sister.”

    For a long moment, neither spoke. Then Miss Leya sighed, picked up a stamp, and pressed her seal onto the form. She returned it to Zev, her eyes brimming with concern.

    “Zev Mablevi,” she said, standing from her chair to offer him her hand. “I suspect this is the last time we’ll meet like this, as teacher and student. The next time you’ll be in the guild, and I’ll have to address you by your rank.”

    His throat felt tight, but he managed to clasp her hand. “Thank you, Miss Leya. For everything.”

    She nodded, offering a shaky smile. “May the almighty creator guard your steps, Zev.”

    He slipped the authorized form into his bag. “And yours,” he answered.

    Then he turned and walked out of the office, out of the academy, leaving behind the only life he had ever planned for himself. His fate now pointed in a direction he could scarcely imagine, one that might ultimately lead him to Amare, or at least to the truth.

    And even through the haze of his grief, a spark of determination took root: he would not give up, no matter how impossible the road ahead.

    <<Previous | TOC | Next>>

    Footnotes

    1. Kijana – ‘Young man’ in swahili. ↩︎
    2. Kuja hapa – ‘Come here’ in swahili. ↩︎
  • The Price of Sight by Gitahi Ngunyi

    The Price of Sight by Gitahi Ngunyi

    The Price of Sight book cover

    Trapped in darkness, witnessed a crime. Would anyone believe him?
    Mukeni, a gentle soul with a developmental disability, faces a terrifying fate when his head is sealed inside a clay pot, left to suffocate on a lonely Kenyan hillside path. His desperate struggle for air intertwines with visions of his beloved late mother—visions that may be his last.
    His discovery comes from Wacera, his devoted guardian since childhood. Rushing to deliver milk before dawn, her shortcut leads to a horrifying Mukeni, seemingly lifeless, his head grotesquely imprisoned. Her screams shatter the silence, rallying the village.
    As Mukeni fights for survival and recounts witnessing a brutal burglary next door, the community scrambles. But justice proves elusive. The thieves targeted Gathii, a man Wacera secretly longs for, yet Mukeni’s testimony is dismissed—the law deems him unfit to speak. While pragmatic villagers focus on recovering stolen goods, Wacera rages against the injustice done to the man she protects like a brother.
    The Price of Sight is a poignant and suspenseful tale set in rural Kenya. It explores the bonds of family and community, the crushing weight of prejudice against disability, and the quiet resilience of those fighting for dignity and love in the face of cruelty and indifference. Can Mukeni find safety? Will Wacera secure justice for him? And will her own heart find its answer with Gathii?

    Available on Amazon

    Thoughts:

    The Price of Sight is a short story about Mukeni, who lives in a small rural community where he faces prejudice for his learning disability from the larger community, but receives infinite kindness from Wacera, a young woman who treats him like a younger brother.

    This short story offers a sharp commentary on the callous indifference and distorted perceptions of those with disabilities in our communities, and how such neglect can leave them voiceless, unrecognized, and without legal empowerment.

  • Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 5

    Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 5

    Zev’s work at the Village Center on voting day felt straightforward. He answered questions from voters, explaining how to use the voting machine, and shuttled bottles of water to other volunteers. In between, he coordinated with security to keep order in the lines.

    During a trip to the supply room, he noticed the metal shelf holding water bottles wobble precariously. With a sigh, he grabbed a power drill, an electric screwdriver, and extra bolts from the adjacent tool rack. Crawling beneath the shelf, he tightened the bolts until it felt secure.

    Just as he finished with the last screw, something jostled his left leg. “Who’s there?” he called out, voice echoing under the shelf.

    No answer came, so he muttered a soft curse, made sure the bolts were firm, and inched out, only to bang his head on the corner above. Rubbing his temple, he scowled when he emerged to find Jiru, the son of Malachi, the Village Head, leaning against the worktable.

    Jiru was a puzzle: never entirely friend, never quite foe. He sat perched on the table that held a basket of bread buns destined for the voting hall staff, his polished black boots propped on the only chair. His hair, styled in a precise box cut, only added to the self-assured aura that Zev found vaguely irritating.

    “What?” Zev asked, still rubbing the sting on his forehead.

    Jiru grinned. “Word is you’re set to join Santi Corp’s apprenticeship at the Swala Oasis,” he said. His tone hovered between genuine curiosity and veiled mockery.

    Zev stood, returned the screwdriver to its case, and stretched, ignoring Jiru’s stare. “You sound interested,” he said, only half-joking. “Thinking of applying yourself?”

    “No,” Jiru replied flatly. “Will you see the Theria Guild cadets while you’re there?”

    Zev dropped his arms at his sides and leaned on the tool shelf.

    “No, actually,” Zev said. “All I saw when I visited for registration was their transport vehicles.”

    “That’s a shame. I’d go find them if I were you,” Jiru said, his tone smug.

    Zev sighed. The conversation was typical Jiru, vaguely smug, perpetually needling. Without another word, Zev picked up the basket of bread buns he needed to deliver. He headed for the door, not bothering to hide his annoyance when Jiru followed.

    Outside, the sun shone brightly on the lines of voters milling about. Many families waited with children, and the tension of the day mixed with a polite hum of conversation. Zev felt a flicker of gratitude knowing his mother and father had cast their votes. His younger brothers would be safe at home soon, and Amare, who couldn’t vote yet, was helping watch the children in a nearby center. His parents were somewhere on the ‘M’ line.

    Amare could not vote yet, so she had to be watching his brothers in the children’s center. The playground at the children’s center allowed kids to play football. He, too, loved the field behind the children’s center. He and Weru sometimes played when they had time. They hadn’t been able to play of late, too busy planning the future.

    “I bumped into your sister earlier,” Jiru said conversationally. “She’s volunteering at the children’s center. I hear she wants to enter the Education Class. My father’s got connections, you know. I could talk to him, help her secure a spot.”

    Zev’s grip on the bread basket tightened. “Amare can qualify on her own.”

    “Sure,” Jiru said, giving Zev a sideways glance. “But I’m always happy to help a pretty girl. Maybe she’ll appreciate it more than you do.”

    That was too much. Zev stopped abruptly, swinging around to face him. Jiru was two years older—nineteen to Zev’s seventeen—and his interest in fifteen-year-old Amare set Zev’s nerves on edge.

    “Leave my sister alone,” Zev said, trying hard to keep his voice low. “She’s not someone you can toy with.”

    Jiru’s grin widened, unperturbed. “Make me.”

    Rage coiled in Zev’s chest, and he nearly spat out a retort when Malachi’s voice boomed from across the hall. Zev forced himself to step back. He found Malachi waving him over to the staff refreshments area. Casting one last glare at Jiru, Zev followed Malachi.

    “Finished with the store?” Malachi asked, stopping by a long table covered with bottles of water and paper cups.

    “Yes. I even secured the shaky shelf,” Zev said, setting the basket of bread buns among the drinks.

    Malachi checked his watch. “Your parents left a while ago. They took your brothers home and asked Amare to stay and help. It’s nearly four. Hand me your token card so I can log your hours. Then you can pick up Amare and head home.”

    Zev fished a small rectangular card from his pocket. Malachi swiped it against a device linked to his phone, nodded at the beep, and handed it back. A quick thumb scan confirmed his new total of four thousand tokens, enough for the next tablet upgrade.

    “Thanks,” Zev said, flashing a grateful smile.

    Malachi returned the smile. “You’ve done good work here, Zev. I know Jiru can be difficult, but try to be patient. He wants to be your friend.”

    Zev said nothing. He didn’t trust Jiru’s motives, but Malachi was oblivious to his son’s bullying. Changing the subject, Zev gestured toward the exit. “I’ll go meet Amare now.”

    “Go ahead,” Malachi said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll call you if we need more help.”

    Zev snagged two bread buns from the basket and headed out, crossing the street to the children’s center. A short while later, he found Amare guiding a group of boisterous kids in a painting session. He lingered at the door, finishing one bun in swift bites as he watched her gently correct a child on using a brush. When she saw him, her eyes lit up with excitement.

    “Want to help?” she teased. “When’s the last time you played with paint?”

    He grinned, washed his hands in the corner sink, and joined a table of enthusiastic six-year-olds. They giggled riotously whenever Amare threatened to dab green paint on Zev’s hair. By the end of it, he had a streak of teal running across his left eyebrow.

    When the day wound down, brother and sister left the children’s center and started home at a comfortable pace. Zev carried Amare’s paint supply bag in addition to his own worn book bag. She chattered happily about the joys of teaching small children.

    “So, are you still going to run the Pink Piggy if you join Santi Corp?” Amare asked. “Mom mentioned that you might open a real shop one day.”

    Zev hesitated, memories of his mother’s advice mingling with a creeping anxiety about Santi Corp’s strict policies. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “If I work for Santi, all tech I develop might belong to them.”

    “I think a real Pink Piggy store would be so cool,” Amare said earnestly. “You help so many people with your code, imagine turning our entire village into a place full of your gadgets.”

    He snorted. “You’re too biased,” he said.

    She laughed. “I’m your sister. I have to be biased.”

    A burst of engine noise interrupted them. A motorcycle sped by, stirring a swirling cloud of dust. Zev instinctively maneuvered Amare to his far side to shield her. They were five minutes from home when a siren screamed across the village, loud and ominous.

    Zev looked toward the Village Center. Dark clouds gathered above the rooftops, and jagged lightning ripped across the sky. Thunder rumbled in quick succession.

    Amare went rigid. Zev seized her hand. “We have to run,” he urged, his voice tense. He broke into a sprint, half dragging her down the road. She stumbled several times, but each time he steadied her, and they kept going.

    As they neared home, a convoy of black Theria Guild vehicles roared past on the main road, heading toward the swirling storm clouds. Panic flared in Zev’s chest. No time to wonder what exactly was happening, only that it was terrible.

    They dashed through the open gate of their compound.

    Zev pushed his sister into the house. Amare collapsed just inside, breathless and terrified. Zev dropped their bags by her side and hurried deeper into the house, calling for his brothers.

    “Grey! Silas! Mama, Baba?” He checked the time on the kitchen’s digital clock. Five o’clock. His parents should have been home by now. His heart hammered even harder when he found every room empty.

    Getting his cell phone from his pocket, he paused in the corridor when he found a message from his mother. His parents had dropped the boys at their neighbor’s house. His mother needed to return to the conservancy center, and his father was meeting a supplier in the next town. Zev and Amare were to pick up the boys from Gen’s house. Zev shut his eyes, fighting back a wave of dread.

    He wished he had checked his phone earlier. Running back to the living room, he found Amare had gotten up, though she was clearly shaky.

    “They’re not here?” Amare asked, her voice trembling.

    “No. Grey and Silas are at Gen’s.” He opened a closet in the living room, removing a heavy jacket lined with a fine mesh of silver netting. Sliding it on, he winced at the weight, but it was their only real defense against a ghost wraith’s bite. Next, he grabbed a small axe stored in the same closet.

    Amare shook her head, tears pricking her eyes. “You can’t go out there. It’s too dangerous!”

    “I have to,” Zev said grimly. “Our brothers are out there. Mama and Baba aren’t back, so it’s up to me. You stay here in case Grey and Silas come home on their own and I miss them.”

    She hurried to retrieve a jacket, too. She struggled to wear the heavy jacket, so Zev helped her zip the coat, hoping it would protect her if something breached the house. Then he pulled her into a quick hug.

    “I’ll be back soon,” he promised. “Keep the door locked and watch for the boys if they show up first.”

    Amare wiped her cheeks, nodding despite the terror in her eyes. Zev grabbed the axe and stepped outside, activating the silver security net. An electric crackle rippled over the roof, forming a protective barrier around the house.

    Screams echoed from the direction of the Village Center. Dark acrid smoke billowed beyond the treetops. Zev swallowed hard, hoping his parents had found shelter somewhere. Right now, all that mattered was Grey and Silas.

    He ran, lungs burning, turning onto the main road. He turned left toward the Village Center.

    Gen was a family friend, and she had a son the same age as Grey. The boys liked playing together, so their mom often left Grey and Silas at Gen’s house.

    Gen’s house was only five minutes away, but each second felt like an eternity. Zev ran like a madman, ignoring the growing screams in the neighborhood.

    As he approached her gate, the sound of something massive striking stone made his blood run cold. A bloodcurdling scream came from Gen’s compound.

    Heart pounding, Zev rushed through the open gate and froze in horror. The cottage roof had a gaping hole, the walls collapsed in a jagged crack. Standing amid the rubble was the largest ghost wraith Zev had ever seen, nearly as tall as the cottage itself. Its slick black skin rippled like oily tar, and a long spiky tail flicked behind it in agitation.

    Before Zev could act, the beast turned to him, revealing a mouth streaked with blood. Its jagged teeth glistened under the storm-dark sky, and a thunderous roar tore through the air. Fear clutched at Zev’s throat.

    Then he saw Gen, desperately swinging a broken lampshade at a second wraith. Blood stained her blouse, and she screamed in pain as it lunged at her. She frantically hurled a chair at its head, then caught sight of Zev.

    “Zev!” she choked out, voice trembling. “The kids… they’re in…”

    Her words died as the second wraith clamped down on her shoulder, silencing her scream. In one horrifying moment, both wraiths descended on her.

    An anguished cry tore from Zev’s lips, but all he could do was watch, helpless, as the creatures ripped into the woman who had been like an aunt to him. Fury swallowed his fear, and he gripped the axe so tightly that his knuckles ached. Adrenaline pulsed through him like lightning.

    He sprinted toward the house, unthinking, determined to reach Gen, or what was left of her, and to find his brothers. If the wraiths killed him in the attempt, so be it. He would not stand by and watch.

    <<Previous | TOC | Next>>

  • Jenny Han’s Summer Trilogy

    Jenny Han’s Summer Trilogy

    Salt, Sunscreen, and Second Chances: Jenny Han’s Summer Trilogy

    I read this trilogy for its coming-of-age heartbeat and stayed for the way it lets you sit inside Belly’s messy, sun-drenched firsts: first love, first heartbreak, first real loss, and the first steps toward independence. Belly isn’t always lovable; sometimes I wanted to shout at her choices and her naïve ideas about love (and even her mom’s decisions). But there’s an honesty to how she stumbles and learns. The result is a story that’s painful, and sometimes painfully beautiful, in the way growing up really is.

    Snapshot
    Titles: The Summer I Turned Pretty, It’s Not Summer Without You, We’ll Always Have Summer

    Author: Jenny Han
    Genre: YA contemporary romance • coming-of-age
    Vibes: beach house summers • love triangle • family and grief • firsts that change you
    Heat Level: low (YA-appropriate, closed-door)

    Why it worked for me

    The courage to be imperfect.
    Belly makes choices that can frustrate you as you read. She’s impulsive, naïve, sometimes blinded by what she wants love to be, but that’s exactly why the arc works. The trilogy doesn’t tidy her edges; it lets her be wrong, learn, and try again. Watching her move from wanting to be seen to learning how to see herself, her family, and the boys who matter makes the story worth it.

    Firsts, rendered with honesty.
    The series nails the visceral feel of firsts: the dizzy high of being truly noticed, that painful moment of a first heartbreak, the ache of losing a second-mother figure, the strangeness of preparing for college when home still needs you. None of it is melodrama; it’s every day life. Even when the situationships hurt, it feels earned.

    Family as an anchor.
    Mothers, sons, divorce, illness, tradition, each of these family dynamics tug at every decision. The beach house isn’t just a setting; it’s a memory bank where love and grief live. That family bond anchored so deep at Cousins Beach gives the romance stakes and situates Belly’s choices within a wider web of loyalties.

    Summer as a structure.
    By returning to Cousins Beach year after year, the books show how time changes everything. How the same porch light can look different once you’ve been broken and rebuilt. The seasonal rhythm becomes a mirror for Belly’s growth. Each year, Belly’s experiences in life give Cousins Beach a new meaning.

    Favorite Quote

    “Sometimes it’s like people are a million times more beautiful to you in your mind. It’s like you see them through a special lens—but maybe if it’s how you see them, that’s how they really are.”
    ― Jenny Han, The Summer I Turned Pretty

    Read if you enjoy

    • Coming-of-age romance that feels lived-in, not polished
    • Love triangle dynamics with emotional consequences
    • Family-centered stories where mothers matter
    • Beach-town nostalgia threaded with grief and hope

    Content notes

    Grief/illness (loss of a parental figure), underage drinking, heated arguments, breakup/make-up cycles, love-triangle jealousy.

    Your turn

    Which coming-of-age heroine frustrated you at times, but still had you rooting for her by the end? And what’s your favorite beach-set YA romance?

    The Summer I Turned Pretty is a series on Prime Video.

    Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage

  • Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage- Prologue

    Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage- Prologue

    Prologue: Njaro Mountain

    Reading Time

    1–2 minutes

    Njaro Mountain rumbled with a deep, earth-shaking roar that struck fear into every living soul. Dark billows of smoke swelled over its peak, thicker than the heaviest rain clouds, and rushed down the slopes as if guided by a malevolent force.

    Within minutes, wildlife erupted from the forests encircling the mountain. Men, women, and children in nearby villages felt their courage evaporate. After all, when lions flee, what choice does a person have but to run?

    Within the hour, seething red lava burst from Njaro’s core. Scalding and furious—hotter than any hell humankind can imagine—it poured down in rivers of molten fire, annihilating all in its path. Neither ancient trees nor birds, insects, or the last frantic animals escaped. Certainly, no human who remained, praying for divine deliverance, survived its touch.

    When at last the flow cooled, it left behind a silent expanse of devastation stretching a hundred miles. Yet out of those hardened vents crawled a calamity even worse than the lava. In a violent twist of nature, new creatures emerged; what the people of Afrotheria would come to call ghost wraiths. These massive, dark beasts sported oily black hides and jaws lined with teeth that could shatter a human body in a single bite.

    Thus, began a new era in the Empire of Afrotheria1, one overshadowed by the menace of the ghost wraiths2.

    TOC | Next Episode>>

    1. Empire of Afrotheria – A fictitious empire found in the horn of Africa with high-tech capabilities. It is the setting of the story Theria Guild Guardian: Code & Courage. ↩︎
    2. Ghost Wraiths – Massive, dark beasts with oily dark hides and jaws lined with teeth that could shatter a human body in a single bite. ↩︎
    Ghost Wraiths image from Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage
    Ghost Wraiths: Scary and deadly

  • The Veiled Investment by Felicita Churie

    The Veiled Investment by Felicita Churie

    The Veiled Investment book cover

    The Veiled Investment is a book that highlights the many cultural changes from 1945 to the present, encompassing the different generations. The information about these effects may not appear in history, but is told as stories. During our time, it was obligations and responsibilities; now, it is about rights and entitlements.

    Why She Calls Herself the Veiled Investment:

    In Felicita Churie’s community, a girl’s price was tallied in cows, not dreams. Eight decades later, that “veiled investment” has yielded returns no dowry could measure.

    She outruns an arranged marriage, wins a British Scholarship, teaches a generation of girls and boys, and—when her son’s life hangs in the balance—gives him her kidney. The child earmarked for dowry becomes a teacher, scholar, commissioner, kidney donor, and grief-tempered advocate. Each milestone proves her grandmother’s quiet prophecy true: a woman’s worth is compounded in resilience and service, not cattle or coin.

    Her life proves that the “investment” everyone else once claimed is, in truth, her own: education, faith, and an iron-clad will to keep going when tragedy strikes.

    The Veiled Investment is both a ledger and a love letter to women whose quiet labour bankrolls families and nations. It is Felicita’s luminous memoir of classrooms and hospital corridors, showing how one determined woman turns every setback into capital for those she loves.

    Available on Amazon: U.S. | U.K. | Germany Nuria Online Bookshop

    “I’m a member of the Silent Generation,” Felicita writes, “and my story is about my determination, resilience, wisdom, hard work, and independence—all rooted in my cultural background and the times in which I have lived.”

    new book alert banner

    And what times! The Veiled Investment paints a colorful tapestry of a woman who has walked step by step through eight decades of change. As I read her story, admiring her determination to attend school in a world where girls were not expected to, I realized that we, the children of the current times, often take such privileges for granted. In contrast, the Silent Generation fought for these opportunities, sought them out, and turned them into the norm.

    Felicita tells the story of a girl once viewed merely as a source of dowry, who transformed that expectation into an extraordinary life for herself and her family.

    In The Veiled Investment, Felicita demonstrates the value of the priceless, silent labor a woman gives to her family and those she loves.

    Our grandmothers and mothers of the Silent Generation hold remarkable stories that show us where we have come from. Felicita recalls asking her husband to sign her passport application so the government would know he had given his permission for her to travel. I marveled that I can now walk into a passport office as freely as I please and sign my own application. I promised her I would never take that privilege for granted again.

    I thank women like Felicita, who lived the struggle so that we might dare to take these privileges for granted. It falls to us, to every reader, to guard those hard-won rights and extend them to those who come after us.

  • Save My Heart is now Available at Nuria

    Save My Heart is now Available at Nuria

    Save My Heart

    by Elly Kamari

    Leila Karani fell in love, thinking it was forever. She got pregnant and went to see her boyfriend, Nathan Njeru, thinking he would support her and their baby, but she was wrong. Nathan declared he did not love her anymore and instead urged her to abort their baby.

    Eight years later, Leila is a single mother running a fabric and tailoring shop in Nairobi, and her daughter’s happiness is her only concern. When a Fashion Design opportunity comes her way, she unexpectedly encounters Nathan. Now, Leila must make a decision that will profoundly impact her daughter’s future, especially when she learns the truth about Nathan’s past actions.

    Can Leila navigate the tumultuous waters of forgiveness and allow her heart to love a man she’s despised for so long yet still feels connected to?

    This is a standalone and the first book will be printed in January 2025.

    This Printed Book is now available at Nuria Bookstore. Buy it online and get it delivered, or visit the Nuria Bookstore here: The Bazaar Building, 1st Floor.

    On a side note, I am low-key excited to finally be posting about a printed book available for purchase in my city, Nairobi! It was quite an amazing moment, and I’ve been smiling and feeling super excited when I think about it. Here’s to more and more books printed and available in Nairobi!