Kianzo

I loathe your prayer. I wallow in sin. Let the nightmare begin.

The dark prince had been…disgusted with his father’s abdication. To the glided black young man, there was nothing more alluring than power—this had always been his way, since he had seen the Reaper call his first meeting in the Basin.

And now—to live with his father a ex-King…Dark, dangerously glittering blue eyes stared out from the Edge’s murky shadows. The mists swirled in and out, playing tricks on the high sun’s stark glare. But what did not waver was the blue daggers thrown from the shadows.

He watched for a few long moments, hateful eyes scouring every long trench his father dug through the rich, black earth. There was so much power there, in his sire. The son knew, he had seen it. The magma elephants, the tusks, the magic. Why didn’t his father use it? Why did he toil so, dripping sweat and allowing sharp shrubs to knick the thick, buckskin hide? The sight caused something to stir in his gut—something he had not felt since Kiada had confessed her worthlessness to the spotted cat so long ago.

Black-rimmed ears tilted back, intense stare breaking (finally), gaze caught by the nervous, twining movements of Mbwene’s trunk. Keusi’s teeth sheared against each other; she did not like the small matriarch that had ruled over her and Kahari’s hunting tendencies with an iron fist trunk. Too many matriarchs in the kitchen—or something like that.

But Kianzo (strangely) didn’t mind the small elephant. Perhaps it was her no-nonsense attitude and thus power she wielded so easily in her small body. Or, perhaps it was Mbwene’s obvious disapproval of Tembovu’s absence in the twins’ life (and any disapproval of his father endeared her to the colt).

So, slowly, stealthily (thanks, Laurelin), the ashen man stepped out of the shadows, coming up alongside his father’s bonded. Bright blue gazes met—one worried, one dubious—before the matriarch motioned towards the Elephant with her trunk, as if urging the son to go to his father.

A deep breath filled the colt’s sides, hesitation filling his filling-out body…and then he stepped onto the freshly torn earth. “Hello, father,” was his quiet, deep murmur. Dark eyes flickered from the Elephant to a stand of old juniper trees. Slowly, poisonous hot gas and ash gathered at his chest; hyena’s jaws snapping as Kianzo’s magic went out and shriveled the trees to ash.

Questioning, defiant, challenging eyes stared at his sire. Waiting.