There was something surreal about sitting next to a loved one who had long passed. Especially more surreal to have them look indifferent regarding the whole occurrence while they ate.
Lwazi could feel words fighting to escape from his throat. Yet, he didn't trust himself to have enough confident to be listened to. He suddenly felt unworthy and insignificant.
"You look just like your mother," the old man had spoken as his eyes shined with love and adoration.
Lwazi could feel himself fidget uncomfortably, he had never met his mother, unlike Moti, who all his life had safely grew up under her care.
"You hold her defiance Alarick Lwazi," he chuckled as he continued to pick on his food, choosing the most juicy meat he could find.
Lwazi's eyes started glowing from curiosity and sadness, whilst Moti knitted his eyebrows from confusion and a sudden longing.
"I remember when she fought to marry that young crowned prince. Choosing to forbid herself of her duty to inherit her birthright," he laughed out of adoration, remembering the olden days as if they were the best for him.
"Grandfather," Moti suddenly called out shyly.
Their little cousin had long had his mouth full of all the food infront of him, not having the time to witness the strange occurrence infront of him. He was still a child afterall.
"I understand your grievances Moti. Your enemy happens to be your brother, and all the characters you were known for happen to have already been inherited by someone else," he told him simply, reaching out to touch his hand.
"I cannot give you all the answers, that is your mother's place to say," he said, removing his hand from the hold.
"You do understand that you have commited a crime, don't you?" the man knitted his brow with fierceness, yet, kindness never left his eyes. Both Moti and Lwazi held their tongues, not knowing how to answer to their crimes.
"Why do you come here?" He questioned.
"Duty," Both Lwazi and Moti had simultaneously said. When they realised what had just happened, Moti found himself questioning all the character he had drawn in his head with the enemy infront of him. Yet, Lwazi, felt amused to see a mini reflection, who seemed as similar yet just as different from him.
"All three of you are the descendants, who from you then deserves to inherit my power?" he asked, beaming at himself as if his power was the greatest thing in the world.
Alarick Lwazi found himself losing his grandfather's gaze, not wanting to look at him in the eye.
Moti with determination beat his chest claiming himself as the best, "I should inherit your power."
Their grandfather instead chuckled, amused by the confidence and determination. "Why?" he asked him, interested to know what Moti would say.
"it is my birthright," Moti said simply.
"you do know that the heir has always been chosen simply from their character, don't you? It was only a coincidence that the first borns from the first branch for five generations straight were the ones to be heirs," he began to stand and started walking. The three kids followed in suit.
"Do you have the character? Do you truly deserve to hold such great power?" he questioned, but not in means to question him, just to only open his eyes clearer.
Moti found himself holding his tongue and doing a clear introspection in his head. Did he truly deserve to be the one? All he ever did was fight wars and kill, but that was only to protect his people. He felt guilt, suddenly, finding that he now understood, the people he also killed to protect his people, were sons and daughters.
"Lwazi, what do you think?" Their grandfather questioned him, finding that he was all too silent.
"if we talk about deserve, I fear no one would be fit to inherit your great power to summon the heavenly army, grandfather," he said lowly and simply, guilt eating his skin alive.
"But if you're to ask who is the better candidate, I should think our little cousin here would do well with slicing the throat of the enemy," their cousin smiled at him, and his eyes gleamed with adoration.
"Yes grandfather, I will cut their heads off with my blades, that they die even before I touch them," the baby boy started running around, pretending to hold blades, as if he truly was killing an enemy in front of him.
A small smile appeared on both Moti and Lwazi's mouth, yet when they realised they were suddenly smiling at each other, Moti snarled as his older brother, making sure to let him see it was only an accident that they shared such a moment together.
"and you? You don't think you could inherit?" the old man came to a halt, and they stood beside him in sync, waiting to see what happens.
The dark place, suddenly shined and up to twenty people started pouring in. "wow," the boy gasped in awe to see such glory. They were at the lower ground, and there were chairs surrounding the ground they stood in, the people took their rightful place at their chairs, all seeming mighty and powerful with too much glory.
Their grandfather made his way to his chair, as he took on the steps to take his place at his own chair that was at the higher ground in the room, along with the people that came in.
"Answer, child, you don't think you could inherit?" A woman of a small frame, questioned. Her left eye could have almost been taken out, judging by the scar going from her eyebrow to her eye end. Yet, even with such a scar, she still looked as pretty, deadly gorgeous even. With her high cheekbones and her demeaning look.
Lwazi was taken aback by her use of words, and how she seemed to think she was above all. But he seemed to notice how every one remained nonchalant to her character as if it was normal of her to be that way.
"I-"
Lwazi was cut off by another woman, who sat next to her, and looked quite similar to her, but her features only seeming more gentle, and her eyes kinder. "Have you no manners? Were you never taught to pay respects to your elders before engaging on a conversation with them? More so your first ancestor?" Lwazi could feel his eyes almost come out of its sockets from shock. So all of those people were their ancestors, and had once inherited the great power.
Lwazi found himself going up the stairs, moving to the woman. Moti rolled his eyes, realising just how stupid his older brother might be.
Everyone watched in awe, as he made his way to the higher place, only to kneel infront of her, he took her palm gently and rested his forehead in it, to show his humbleness, adoration and sincerity.
He then started speaking while he made his way back to the lower ground. "I don't think I deserve to inherit your power," he said honestly.
"I have killed too many, mercilessly, ruthlessly and I hold many desires that might exclude the wellness of the people," he spoke slowly and precisely, hoping he didn't get misunderstood.
"what are your desires?" A man sitting at the right of the first ancestor questioned. Seeming just as curious to know what went on the child's head.
Lwazi sighed, and he suddenly lost sight of what was infront of him. He could feel the peace, or to just stay and admire the flowing petals when the new year came. He could see it, his longing...
"I long for freedom," he said simply. It could never had taken any minutes longer for Lwazi to answer the question, because in his heart he always knew the life he imagined himself living.
"And you? Boy, what is your greatest desire?" Moti found himself thinking hard about the question directed at him. What did he truly desire? To hold the true power and be above all those under the clouds? To be as free just as his brother wished? "My greatest desire?" Moti questioned himself as he began to be deeper in thought.
He found his mind wondering to Eshe's black eyes. Her side view. He suddenly remembered admiring her side view thinking it was well better and comparable with the moon that hung up. Or just when she swore to be always with him. His heart took him to the moment they were crossing the forest. She had been so close, timid and her body had fit perfectly to his at that moment. And he had silently wished they would stay that way forever.
"My greatest desire..." he found himself, now saying the words, rather than questioning himself. A loving tone of playfulness lacing his tongue. He smiled at himself, understanding just how deeper he was falling.
She was the ocean, and he could not swim to save his life. But if it was by her soul that he would drown, He would willingly sink himself below the ocean's surface.