Senzangakhona awoke, disoriented, as an unfamiliar sensation washed over him. He felt weightless, as though stepping out of a warm bath, the burdens of the world momentarily stripped away. Yet beneath the comfort lingered a gnawing unease—a sense that something fundamental had shifted.
"What's happening?" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. His body felt whole, but his mind… stretched, as if trying to reach beyond itself.
As his eyes fluttered open, a voice pierced through the haze. It was melodic yet commanding, resonating deep within him:
"Oh, Senzangakhona, the Core of the Nexus,
Bearer of the Presence, the wisdom unending!
Your thoughts…"
The words wove a tapestry of praise and power, yet each syllable carried a weight he couldn't grasp. They didn't feel like mere flattery but truths—foreign and undeniable—spoken into existence.
He tried to turn toward the source of the voice, but his body refused to obey. Panic flickered in his chest. "What's going on?" he muttered again, this time louder.
"You're safe, my prince," came the response. The voice was soft yet steady, its tone cutting through his growing alarm.
His eyes darted to his periphery, where a familiar figure entered his limited view. Mbali, her face calm but watchful, knelt beside him.
"You—" His breath hitched. "You can hear me?"
Mbali nodded, her expression unreadable. "Yes, my prince. I can hear your thoughts. We all can. It is the bond we share in the Nexus of minds."
His heart pounded. "Nexus? What is that?"
Mbali hesitated, her eyes flickering with an emotion he couldn't name. Then, unexpectedly, she smiled—a dazed, almost childlike expression, before blinking rapidly and shaking her head.
"Apologies, my prince," she said, her voice soft but steady. "I assumed you knew. The Nexus of mind is… difficult to explain. Even it did not fully know of its existence until now."
He frowned, frustration bubbling. "That doesn't explain what's happening to me!"
Mbali's smile faltered with pride. "You are the Core. The headache you've been feeling feeling marked the connection forming with me, the first mind to link to yours."
Her words felt like an avalanche, overwhelming him. "This… this is madness," he muttered, shaking his head.
Mbali laughed softly, the sound light but tinged with sympathy. Without warning, she leaned forward and lifted him as though he weighed nothing, cradling him like a child. "No, my prince. It may feel like madness, but it is truth. The Nexus links us all—through you."
"What does that even mean?" he demanded, his voice cracking.
She placed him gently back onto the sleeping mat, her movements careful. "The Nexus is a hivemind of sorts," she explained. "A union of minds, but not one that controls or commands. It connects us, letting thoughts flow freely among the linked minds.
We feel each it and each other. Store, share knowledge, and understand one another in ways words cannot express."
He narrowed his eyes. "So, you can read my mind?"
"Not read, exactly," Mbali clarified. "It's more like… hearing a thought as you think it. But only if it's significant enough to resonate through the connection."
"That doesn't sound comforting," Senzangakhona muttered.
Mbali's lips curved into a small smile. "It purpose is unity. Not comfort."
He studied her for a moment. Her calm demeanor only unsettled him further. "If we're all connected, then… can I control you?"
Her expression turned serious. "No, my prince. The Nexus binds us, but it does not strip away our autonomy. It exists to serve its members, not to command them."
Curiosity mingled with skepticism in his gaze. "I need to test this," he said finally.
Mbali hesitated, then nodded. "As you wish."
Senzangakhona's tests were dark but simple. He instructed her to block his airways, a command designed to test the Nexus of mind's boundaries. Mbali obeyed, though she was reluctant, but the Nexus intervened, stopping her from harming him.
"It won't allow it," she said softly, withdrawing her hands.
"Interesting," Senzangakhona murmured, his mind already racing with possibilities.
He learned that the Nexus was more than just a connection—it was a shield, ensuring his safety above all else. But it also had its limitations. Such as the set number of members being 10, with that number growing by 2 every year.
While another limitation being that the hivemind could only provide knowledge already known by one of its members, a fact Mbali admitted with a faint smile.
"So no secrets about Area 51?" he asked dryly. A subtle to test whether she truly knew everything he knew.
She laughed lightly. "Only if someone in the Nexus knows them."
To which Mbali passed exceptionally.
The most intriguing part about the Nexus was that it could only connect to those who were already loyal to Senzangakhona. Once the connection was established, that loyalty became permanent and unchangeable.
For example, if someone's loyalty toward him was at 70% before joining the Nexus, their loyal would remain at that level permanently.
This quirk left Senzangakhona feeling both frustrated and relieved. Frustrated because it drastically narrowed his pool of recruits to individuals foolish enough to pledge their loyalty to an infant who couldn't even speak.
Yet, he was relieved to know that those connected to the Nexus would remain loyal. Above all, he was determined to avoid the same mistake that had led to his current predicament: being reincarnated as a poisoned infant.
For now, Senzangakhona accepted these answers. Yet his mind remained restless, probing the edges of this newfound reality.
At least he was reassured that Mbali would not force-feed him any harmful substances again, knowingly at least. As she was the only one from the group of maids in Prince Jama's royal kraal to know about the Imbiza, let alone be the one to administer it to him.
Nonetheless, Senzangakhona remained cautious. For instance, he convinced Mbali to replace the harmful liquid with a safer substance.
To maintain the ruse, he would loudly protest and act as though the new liquid was just as unpleasant as the original. His goal was simple: if he stopped pretending to be sick, he could eventually convince everyone he was cured, thus eliminating the need for Imbiza altogether. This was his grand strategy, a plan he hoped would free him from his current predicament.
...
It had been several days since Prince Jama's royal edict was issued, summoning all sangomas within the Zulu chiefdom to his royal kraal. Messengers spread the word to every corner of the land. Some sangomas had already arrived; others were en route. A few, for reasons unknown, hadn't even heard of the summons yet.
One such person was Bantu kaThobela, a sangoma who had recently taken up residence in Zifa, one of the least populated kraals (homesteads) of the Zulu tribe.
Zifa was home to about 30-40 people, tiny by tribal standards, but it boasted something extraordinary: a sangoma among its ranks.
This was unusual for such a small settlement, but the locals cherished Bantu, who offered his healing services and spiritual guidance for a modest fee. His presence had brought them comfort and security, making the small homestead feel protected against misfortune.
However, the mood in Zifa soured when a royal messenger arrived, bearing Prince Jama's summons.
The locals feared the edict. They worried that the prince might strip them of their sangoma, leaving them vulnerable to sickness and bad spirits.
Yet, their fear couldn't show. When the messenger arrived, the people greeted him with forced smiles and clenched fists, all while seething inside.
The messenger was soon introduced to Bantu. When Bantu emerged to meet him, the man looked him over from head to toe, his expression betraying a hint of surprise.
Unlike most sangomas, who donned traditional attire made from ostrich feathers, leopard skins, or antelope hides and adorned themselves with beads to signify their sacred role and wealth, Bantu was dressed simply. He wore nothing but a cattle-hide loincloth, blending in with the common folk.
Still, the messenger knew better than to doubt the locals' word. To impersonate sangoma was no laughing matter as you risked offending both the chief and the ancestors. So, with a respectful bow, the messenger spoke: "Mkhulu, I bring news from the royal kraal. Prince Jama kaNdaba summons you."
Bantu's heart skipped a beat. He struggled to conceal his surprise that had an underlying fear as he replied, "Prince Jama? Why would the prince summon a nobody like me? Surely, he must mean another sangoma?"
The messenger shook his head firmly. "Mkhulu, there is no such thing as a 'nobody' sangoma. The prince knows of your presence here, and he insists that you come to his royal kraal without delay."
Bantu's mind raced. A summons from the prince was no trivial matter. The implication was clear: someone in the royal family was most likely ill. Even a minor sickness in the royal household could destabilize the tribe, opening the door to political turmoil. Or worse, inviting rival tribes to exploit the perceived weakness.
"But..."
He looked down, thought to himself,"...should I? But if i dont, what if...? What would Father do in this situation?"
The messenger watched him quietly. After a moment of silence, Bantu straightened up and said, "Will you be escorting me, or do I find my own way?"
"I will escort you, Mkhulu," the messenger replied.
Bantu nodded, retreating into his hut to gather his essentials. When he returned, he gestured toward the path leading out of Zifa. "Lead the way."
As they walked, the villagers lined the path to see Bantu off. The children sobbed openly, their wails piercing the air, while the adults struggled to keep their composure. Men and women wore brave faces, but their sorrow was evident in their tense expressions and tear-filled eyes.
Bantu couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. A storm of emotions churned within him: guilt for leaving the people who relied on him, fear of what awaited him at the royal kraal, excitement at the prospect of proving himself, and even a flicker of anger for being forced to leave this new home he was beginning to get accustomed to.
As the homestead faded behind him, Bantu resolved to face whatever lay ahead. Whether it was a test from the ancestors or a task beyond his understanding, he would meet it with courage.
...
Meanwhile, in the chief's hut, another meeting unfolded, more personal in nature. The chief sat across from his two granddaughters, Mkabayi and Mamme.
"So," the chief began, his sharp gaze fixed on the sisters, "are you both saying that you'll negotiated with the Sibaya people to give you one of their princesses?"
Mkabayi flashed a mischievous smile. "Yes, Grandfather. That's exactly what we did."
Her sister, Mamme, avoided the chief's piercing eyes, fidgeting in her seat.
The chief sighed. "It seems to me that while you were handling the Sibaya people, your sister did... nothing."
Mkabayi's smile vanished. "First things first, Grandfather," she said flatly. "While it's true I approached the Sibaya people, none of it would've been possible without Mamme. If not for her persistence in begging Father to let us travel, we'd have been buried under suspicion and rumors before we even started."
The chief raised an eyebrow. "Rumors? What rumors?"
Mamme, uncharacteristically bold, spoke up. "Before I answer your question, let me ask you this: do you really believe Father sent us here as a reward for finding him a wife?"
The chief leaned back, considering her words. His son was a fiercely protective father, unlikely to send his daughters away to their grandparents without them begging for them. Let alone as a reward. "What are you suggesting?" he asked.
Mkabayi, sensing his intrigue, pressed forward. "Have you heard about Thandeka's son?"
The chief narrowed his eyes. "Your brother?"
Mkabayi's tone turned sharp. "That thing is not my brother."
The chief's expression darkened. "Mind your words, child. You're speaking to your chief, not one of your little friends."
Realizing her mistake, Mkabayi bowed her head. "I'm sorry, Grandfather."
Mamme intervened, her tone placating. "Forgive her, Grandfather. My sister is... passionate. But her point is valid. While rumors paint us as wild, cursed, and unworthy, our so-called 'brother' is praised endlessly—even though he isn't even a true Zulu.
"Even now, after everything we've done to preserve the Zulu lineage, we're treated as though we're expendable. Meanwhile, our 'brother' basks in unearned glory, as if he's slain a lion himself."
The chief pondered their words. Was it possible that sending the girls to the Sibaya people was an effort to dispel rumors of them being curses, by letting the clan see them for who they truly were? Or was there a deeper strategy at play?
Before he could dwell further, an elder entered the hut, bowing low.
"My chief, forgive the interruption. A messenger has arrived from Prince Jama, requesting sangomas to attend his court."
The announcement shocked the twins. Why would their father send for sangomas?
The chief frowned. "Did the messenger explain his purpose?"
"He says he'll only speak to you face-to-face, my chief."
The chief sighed and waved a hand. "Very well. Bring him in."
As the elder left, the chief turned to his granddaughters. "Do you know anything about this?"
Both shook their heads, though Mkabayi hesitated before speaking. "Grandfather, please let us stay and hear the news. If there's trouble in Father's court, we should know."
The chief studied her for a long moment before nodding. "Fine. Perhaps this concerns you more than I thought."
Moments later, the messenger entered, bowing deeply. The twins leaned forward, their curiosity sharpening as they awaited his words.
...
The very next day, Senzangakhona couldn't shake a troubling thought. Though he didn't want to admit it, not even to himself, the words echoed in his mind: "I think I'm dying."
...
Kraal - a traditional African village of huts, typically enclosed by a fence.
Mkhulu - Grandfather in Zulu, but also used when referring to sangomas ( Which is why I left in Zulu, so that people don't get confused.)
...
A/N : 😅 So uhh- how is everybody doing?
I know I said I was leaving for good, and I was. But in the midst of leaving. I realised something. Am broke😁. Not a cent to my name.
So I planned on continuing to write Shogun : in another world 👹👺. But shame got the best of me and i couldn't bring myself to face all my readers again🫣
Yes, despite what I claim, am not really shameless🥲
So I thought, what is the best next thing? Well an original I was planning on making for a very long time.
So I know a lot of y'all are probably pissed that I only came back because the video industry is kicking in my teeth. But I promise I will continue to write for the next 2 to 3 years no matter how successful I get 🙇♂️. Please forgive me.
Last Spear of the Zulu Empire: Bring the 21st century to Africa/ 5 chpts per week🐆