The morning after the battle, the dawn bathed Mbanza in a strangely peaceful light. The usually bustling streets were empty, and a palpable tension hung in the air. The city, once prosperous and resplendent, seemed on the brink of collapse. The events of the previous night had left deep scars, and each one of them—Alaric, Kimpa Vita, Kael, and Luther—felt the darkness closing in.
Alaric rose in silence, his body still marked by the recent fights. The dark circles under his eyes betrayed his exhaustion, but he knew they didn't have time to waste. Kimpa Vita was already awake, gazing out at the city from the window of their inn, her face etched with worry.
"We have to find Damba," she said abruptly, breaking the silence. "He can't get away after what he's done."
Alaric nodded, though he knew this hunt wouldn't be easy. Damba was cunning, and he had likely set traps to delay them.
Kael, meanwhile, was focused on a scroll he'd found in the Council chamber the previous night. His fingers moved quickly over the ancient symbols, trying to unravel the mysteries hidden in the lines of text.
"This scroll… it's a clue," Kael murmured, squinting. "Damba didn't just flee. He's arranged a secret meeting with emissaries from Alokta in the catacombs beneath Mbanza."
"The catacombs?" Kimpa Vita clenched her fists. "They're vast. It will be hard to find him down there."
"We don't have a choice," Alaric replied. "If he's about to betray Mbanza to Alokta, we have to stop him before he seals the deal."
The group prepared quickly, knowing every minute was precious. They left the inn under cover of anonymity, weaving their way through the narrow, winding streets of the city. The walls of Mbanza, once filled with so much promise, now seemed to harbor dark secrets.
The catacombs beneath Mbanza were a labyrinth of tunnels and underground chambers, remnants of a bygone era. Built during the time of the Ancients, they once served as sanctuaries for the dead, as well as refuges during times of war. Today, they had become a playground for traitors.
"Stay alert," Alaric muttered as they passed a collapsed statue engraved with ancient runes. "Damba has probably left traps."
Kimpa Vita and Kael nodded silently. The tension in the air grew thicker as they descended deeper into the catacombs. Their footsteps echoed faintly off the stone walls, and the silence that surrounded them felt almost supernatural.
Suddenly, a chill ran down Alaric's spine. Something was wrong. He stopped abruptly, his eyes scanning the darkness.
"A trap," he whispered. But it was too late.
The ground beneath their feet began to tremble violently. Runes carved into the stone walls suddenly lit up, and a blinding light flooded the area. Kael raised his arms, trying to form a magical barrier, but an invisible force scattered them in an instant.
Alaric found himself alone. The cold of the stone mixed with a strange warmth in the air. His fists clenched as he tried to understand where he was. The darkness around him was dense, almost tangible. Then, whispers began to echo. Familiar voices. Too familiar.
The faces of his family appeared before him—shadows of the past. His parents, his lost brother. Alaric felt his heart tighten.
"Alaric…" His mother's soft voice, an echo from the past, resounded around him. "Why didn't you save us?"
"No…" he stammered. "This isn't real."
But the visions became more and more tangible. Buried memories, wounds never healed. The day his village was attacked. His parents' death. His brother's disappearance. The pain was vivid, burning, as if it had just happened.
"You could have saved them," the voice continued. "But you did nothing."
"Stop!" Alaric screamed, falling to his knees. His head spun. Everything felt so real. Damba's illusion magic was working. He was lost in his own nightmares.
Meanwhile, Kimpa Vita was also fighting against the illusions. She found herself in a maze of mirrors, each reflection showing her at different moments in her life. But it wasn't her. Not really. She saw herself as a child, carefree, the heir to a throne she never wanted.
Then she saw him. Luther. Her fiancé, captured and tortured. An image that haunted her nights.
"Luther…" she whispered, reaching out to one of the reflections. But as soon as she touched the mirror, it shattered into a thousand pieces. The shards scattered around her, each one reflecting a moment of her life.
"Why did you run, Kimpa?" asked a voice behind her.
She spun around abruptly and found herself facing her father, the deposed king. "You should have stayed and fought."
"I… I couldn't," she stammered.
"You abandoned your people for that man."
"No, I wanted to save him, and save Mbanza…" Her words felt hollow. The illusions closed in on her, trapping her in a spiral of guilt and doubt.
In another part of the catacombs, Kael was also ensnared in the illusions. He struggled to maintain his focus as visions of his own life flashed before his eyes. But in the midst of it all, a persistent shadow kept appearing: Alokta. The name echoed like a warning.
Kael sensed that everything was connected. Damba, Alokta, Mbanza, even Kwame… there was a thread, but he couldn't grasp it.
"Focus," he muttered to himself, trying to dispel the illusions. But Damba's magic was powerful, and even with all his intellect, Kael found it difficult to decipher the web that was being woven around them.
As Alaric, Kimpa, and Kael each fought their own demons, a low rumble echoed through the catacombs. Troops were approaching.
The mercenaries of Alokta, led by a towering captain, marched through the darkness, their objective clear: capture Kimpa Vita and her allies.
Alaric, still trapped in his visions, heard the footsteps approaching. He slowly rose to his feet, his eyes burning with rage. The pain of his memories, mixed with the anger he felt for all that had been taken from him, stirred a power within him he had never felt before.
He prepared to face the troops from Alokta, but in his current state, could he really defeat them?