THE BIRTH OF A LEGEND
The pain came in waves, unrelenting, merciless. It tore through Mandlavi's body with a force she had never known, reducing her to something she had never been before: helpless.
Inside the dimly lit hut, her screams shattered the stillness of the morning. Ramna knelt beside her, hands firm against Mandlavi's back, trying to steady her through the ordeal.
The birth had come too soon.
Mandlavi collapsed onto the floor, her trembling fingers clawing at the dirt as another contraction wracked her body. She was failing. Every shred of strength, every ounce of power she once commanded, was gone. She was no longer the celestial being feared across realms. She was only a woman now, a weak, fragile mortal. And her body was breaking under the weight of a life struggling to be born.
"Breathe, Mandlavi," Ramna urged, her voice edged with concern.
Mandlavi shook her head, her vision blurred from pain and exhaustion. "I… I can't."
"You must," Ramna said, tightening her grip. "The child is coming, Mandlavi. She is our last hope."
But the words barely reached her. She felt herself slipping. A hollowness seeped into her bones, a terrifying realization that she might not survive this. The shapeshifting had drained her completely. She had given up her divine essence, and now she had nothing left to hold on to.
A tear slid down her cheek. If she still had her celestial power, this pain would be nothing. A mere inconvenience. But now, as a mortal, it was all-consuming.
Another contraction hit. She arched her back in agony, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. The walls of the hut seemed to close in around her. And then… she felt it.
Stillness.
The child within her, so restless, so strong before, had gone silent.
"No," Mandlavi choked out, a fresh wave of fear gripping her. "No, no, no"
Ramna's expression darkened. She pressed her hands against Mandlavi's belly,
her brows furrowing in worry. "She's waiting."
Mandlavi's breath hitched. "Waiting for what?"
"For you to fight."
But how could she? Her body was failing. Her soul was unraveling. She had lost her essence, and now she was losing her child.
Then, suddenly
A whisper.
Not from Ramna. Not from the wind. Something else.
The air in the hut grew heavy, charged with an unseen force. Outside, the wind howled through the trees, carrying something ancient with it—something watching.
Mandlavi gasped. It was faint at first, a murmur threading through the air. And then, the whispers grew.
Not one. But many.
They echoed through the hut, curling around her like a ghostly embrace. The voices were old, older than time itself, speaking a language she once knew.
"The Isaki… the Chosen One…"
Ramna stiffened. "Do you hear that?"
Mandlavi forced herself to listen. The voices were speaking to the child.
Calling to her. Urging her to come forth.
And then, movement.
A flutter. A stir.
Mandlavi gasped as a sudden warmth spread through her body, not from within, but from something greater. Not her power, but something beyond her.
Her daughter was still there. And she was waiting to be born.
Ramna exhaled sharply, eyes wide with recognition. "It's time, Mandlavi."
Mandlavi's fingers dug into the earth.
She gritted her teeth and summoned what little strength remained in her fragile shell.
"One more push," Ramna instructed.
With a scream that echoed through the heavens, Mandlavi gave everything she had left.
And then
A cry.
Not soft. Not weak.
But powerful.
The sound resonated through the air, sending a ripple through the world itself. A shift. A new balance tipping into place.
Mandlavi collapsed against the ground, her breath shallow, her vision dimming. But she could still hear the echoes of her daughter's first cry ringing in the storm outside.
Ramna lifted the newborn, her hands trembling, not with fear, but with something close to awe.
"She's…" Ramna's voice faltered. "She's not ordinary."
Mandlavi turned her head weakly, her body too drained to move. "Let me… see her."
Ramna hesitated for just a moment before gently placing the infant into Mandlavi's trembling arms.
And as soon as she saw her, her heart stopped.
The child was identical to him.
The strong jawline. The sharp features. Kovu.
Mandlavi's breath shuddered. She had known, of course.
Who else could be her father? But seeing the resemblance so stark, so undeniable…
A lump formed in her throat.
The baby stirred, her tiny fingers curling against Mandlavi's chest. Then, slowly, her eyes fluttered open.
And Mandlavi swore she saw something celestial flicker within them. Not human. Not entirely.
"She looks like him," she whispered.
Ramna nodded, solemn. "She is not just his child. She is his legacy."
Mandlavi traced her daughter's soft skin, her fingers shaking as they brushed over her tiny hand.
Then, she saw it.
A mark.
A crescent, faint but unmistakable, burned into her lower waist.
Mandlavi sucked in a breath. "A mark of the celestial."
Ramna exhaled. "She is not just any child, Mandlavi." She looked down at the infant, her expression unreadable. "She is the one who will bring balance back to Tengaki. The Isaki's last hope."
Mandlavi let her head fall back against the dirt floor, exhaustion washing over her.
Her child was not ordinary.
Her child was bound to be something greater.
But as she gazed down at her daughter, one question lingered in her heart.
Would Kovu ever know?
Would he ever care?
Tears slipped silently from her eyes.
Karna had been born a legend. But would she ever just be a daughter?
Ramna glanced at Mandlavi's tear-streaked face and said nothing. But the weight in her eyes spoke volumes.
She knew the truth Mandlavi had yet to face.
One day, Kovu would find out.
And when that day came, the storm that raged outside would be nothing compared to what was to come.
Outside, the heavens wept, their cries mingling with the wind.
The balance had shifted.
The legend had begun.