Rami returned to the village long after the sun had sunk behind the rolling hills of Maroo. The sky burned with reds and golds, but he did not notice. His eyes were hollow, his thoughts folding in on themselves, trapped in a relentless spiral.
He had sold Hakeem.
Not stolen from him.
Not betrayed him in word.
He had sold him.
The son of the strongest man in the village — a boy he had grown up beside, laughed with, sparred with, envied.
The screams followed him all the way home.
They echoed in his ears, sharp and desperate, refusing to fade with distance. Every step he took felt heavier than the last, as though the ground itself resisted him. When he finally reached his door and closed it behind him, the silence was unbearable.
Rami slid down against the wood, clutching his head.
He told himself he had no choice.
That the foreigners were powerful.
That the silver would secure his future.
That Maroo was naïve to believe the world beyond the sea was kind.
He told himself many things.
None of them silenced the truth.
He had betrayed Maroo.
And worse — he had betrayed Shankeka.
The thought of her struck him harder than any blade. His chest tightened painfully, breath coming in shallow gasps. He pressed his palm against his heart as if he could calm it, but it only beat faster.
How could he face her again?
How could he look into her eyes knowing what he had done to the man she loved?
Rami did not sleep that night.
He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, listening to the wind whisper through the village. Every time his eyes closed, the same image returned — Hakeem being dragged away, his feet scraping the ground, his hands reaching out.
Calling his name.
By the time dawn broke, Rami's mind was fractured, his thoughts sharp and erratic. Fear, jealousy, guilt — all tangled together, feeding one another.
---
The Owari household woke to dread.
Hakeem had not returned home.
For a boy of his age, this was unheard of. He was disciplined, responsible, and deeply respectful of his parents. Shaka searched the house first, then the surrounding paths, his jaw tightening with each unanswered question.
Yewende questioned Akem, Nairobi, and Afumi. None of them had seen their brother since the previous evening.
Panic set in.
Shaka did not waste time. He alerted the elders, then the village. Word spread quickly through Maroo — Hakeem Owari was missing.
Fishermen left their boats tied to shore. Farmers abandoned their fields. Groups formed naturally, moving through forests, along the coast, calling Hakeem's name into the wind.
Whispers followed them.
Some spoke of the strange ship on the horizon.
Others spoke of omens.
Rami heard everything from inside his home.
Every shout was a blade twisting deeper into his chest.
Then came the knock.
At first, he did not move, hoping it was only his imagination. When the knock came again, firmer this time, he forced himself to stand. His legs felt weak beneath him as he opened the door.
Shankeka stood there.
Her eyes were swollen and red, her face streaked with tears she had clearly stopped trying to hide.
"Rami," she sobbed. "Hakeem is missing."
For a moment, the world stopped.
The woman he had loved for as long as he could remember stood before him broken, her pain raw and unguarded. And every tear was his doing.
"I heard," Rami said quietly. "I'm… I'm so sorry."
He stepped forward instinctively, reaching out to comfort her — or perhaps to steady himself.
She turned away.
The rejection burned more sharply than he expected.
"Have you seen him?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Anything at all?"
"No," Rami replied quickly.
Too quickly.
The lie sat heavy in his mouth, but he forced it down.
Shankeka studied him, her brows knitting together.
"The whole village is searching," she said. "And you're just in here?"
Her words struck something ugly inside him.
"Not everyone cares," he snapped. "I have better things to do."
The moment the words left his mouth, he saw the hurt flash across her face.
"That's not true," she said firmly. "Hakeem would do this for you."
Silence followed.
The air between them felt thick, oppressive.
"Shankeka," Rami said suddenly, unable to bear it any longer. "There's something I need to tell you."
She looked at him, confused, wary.
"I've always loved you," he said. "Ever since I was old enough to understand what love was."
The words spilled out, desperate and unguarded. For a fleeting moment, Rami felt relief — as though a weight had lifted from his chest.
Then Shankeka spoke.
"Rami… I never knew," she said gently. "But I don't feel that way. You've always been like a brother to me."
The world tilted.
"But I can be more," he insisted, stepping closer. "Let me be more to you."
She shook her head slowly, tears returning.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I love you — but not like that."
Something inside Rami snapped.
"Hakeem may never return," he muttered.
The room went deathly still.
Shankeka stared at him, horror dawning across her face.
"What did you just say?"
Her voice sharpened, fear creeping in.
"No one knows about me and Hakeem," she continued. "So how could you say that?"
Rami looked away.
"My three goddesses…" she breathed. "Rami, what have you done?"
She stepped backward, her hand brushing the door.
"I'm going home," she said carefully. "We'll talk tomorrow."
Rami did not move. He looked at Shankeka with a look she had never seen before a look of pure hatred. Tears begin to fall for his eyes.
"I can't let you leave," he said quietly.
Shankeka screamed.
Rami lunged.
His hand closed around her throat, slamming her against the door with brutal force.
"I loved you!" he screamed. "You chose him over me!"
her body went limp.
Rami released her.
Shankeka slid down the door, lifeless.
Dead.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Rami collapsed to the floor, sobbing, his mind finally catching up to reality. He rocked back and forth, staring at her body, unable to accept what he had done.
A knock at the door shattered the moment.
Panic surged.
He dragged Shankeka's body beneath his bed, hands shaking violently.
"Just a moment," he called weakly.
When he opened the door, Shaka stood before him.
"Are you alright?" Shaka asked, concern etched into his face.
Rami nodded numbly.
Shaka noticed the scratches.
Her nails clawed at his face, raking deep, desperate lines across his skin.
" Did you scratch yourself" Shaka asks inquisitively.
Shaka panics he didn't even realise he had been stractched such was his descent in madness in that moment. He stares at shaka sheepishly with a lump in his throat stuggling to speak.
Before he could speak, a deep horn sounded in the distance — foreign, powerful.
Shaka's face drained of colour.
"No… it can't be."
He ran.
Rami sank to the floor.
Another knock followed.
This time, it was his mother, Nafumi.
One look at her son told her everything.
When he confessed, she struck him.
"You are twisted," she said coldly. "But you are still my son."
"Two men will come tonight," she whispered. "They will take care of it."
---
Across realms and dimensions, the goddesses watched.
They saw betrayal.
Jealousy.
Murder.
And they withdrew their blessing.
---
At the horizon, Captain Stephan Kirks of Pladora ordered his ship forward.
The sea was calm.
The wind welcoming.
The horn sounded in triumph.
Maroo would soon learn the true cost of its sins.