Legend of The Cryptids

Legend of The Cryptids

🕸FOREIGN CAPTIVITY🕸

Holding her breath, Zuri watched her mother, a mage cast a spell on the bones she'd thrown on the air. Confined in their small hut, they watched in anticipation what was happening. The bones landed on the ground with a soft thud, hardly audible. With her two daughters, Zuri waited for her mother to utter words.

The wind rustled against the meticulous structure they were in causing a swishing sound followed by low whispers that filled the small building. Old truths were declared to them like a boldly written word in a book, truths that sent goosebumps all-over Zikaras skin as she fixed her eyes at the wrinkled old woman, her eyelids were fixed at the bottom, lips pursed forming a line and ears shooting up to the unknown voices.

Finally opening her eyes, Zikara's grandmother gave her audience a look, from the mother of the kids who possessed strength tranquillity and calmness and just as the earth, her magic was immeasurable. To her Firstborn Imani who just like her name was full of life filled with emotions running deep as a river, her magic flowed like water her nature full of hope.

Trailing to the little girl who was only eight cycles, attention at her form. She contrasted everyone with her sun kissed skin, her curious attitude that often caused trouble and her wild nature that blazed like forest fire consuming all the people around her.

Unlike Imani, her magic came from her heart, it led her like the wind in a sailors ship. Her fate was written, she was going to be the mother of what was known to only be myths, legends. The Cryptids.

"The ancestors have spoken, the spirits roar in blaze for the chosen of their own. Our dear Zikara is blessed by their presence, she will be the next keeper," her raspy voice echoed all through the hut.

Zikara staring at her bibi, turned to her mother, her face presented mixture of emotions, then she spoke, "Zikara is just a child mother, this is too much of a responsibility."

"Not so my daughter, Zikara is no less than any warrior, perhaps better by far much, she's born of greatness, with the guidance of our sweet Imani, her mshauri and you- you all play a major role," she held her daughter's hand proceeding, "You knew this day would come, a keeper has always been from our lineage, Zikara is the chosen."

Fear piled in her heart, Zikara her daughter was no doubt a momentous but she was just a Child. Not only that, as her mother, she knew of her daughter's outspoken temperament, she was fast to act unlike all the Keepers that have passed from their generation. Her mother, the community's sorcerer was preserved and barely spoke unless it was a matter of hand. As the fact that Zikara was now the Keeper.

"Mother-"

"My child, have no fear and trust the spirits of the great past witches, they know what is good for us, the gods are never wrong."

Are they?

What Zuri wanted was a normal childhood for her daughters, but it was now going to be impossible. She glanced over at her child, her mind was adrift. Her features almost resembling the man that had her heart, every passing minute of staring reminded her of him. He was a mgeni, a foreigner from waters past their lands. Zikara must have inherited his persona.

Soft winds blew the door beads that was made out of different seeds and stringed together used to cover the entrance.

"Something evil and dark is coming," she took a whiff of the air closing her eyes, "very soon."

Her words sent Zikara's spine chilling, she didn't understand but if it was her grandmother's warning, something bad was drawing near.

Heavy footfalls fell on their ears followed by screams and crys. The wails grew loud with each second, smoke reaching filling their nostrils.

"Mother, what is happening?" Zuri inquired to see her mother's neutral expression, she seemed unfazed but still eyed her grandchildren.

Standing up fright making her heart thump she heard close steps, ducking from the portier, a man with short dark hair entered his breaths short and heavy.

"We are under attack, men we've never seen are attacking, they are armed with sharp rods that kill whomever gets stubbed with," he looked over at the healer, "our people are dying."

"We have to escape, maybe another community may take us."

"What about our warriors?" Zuri's mother asked.

"They weren't prepared, non of us are," he said.

Her gaze fell on the child, she'd hoped for sometime until she was mature enough but it seemed as the gods had it all planned out. She took her grandchild, Zikara by the arm then chanted, a rhyme that all keepers spelled as a right of passage for the next generation, a glow inside from under her skin glowed crawling its way into her granddaughter. A scream left Zikara's lips as the Marja crawled it's way settling at her temple replacing the previous feeling with a fiery yet cooling essence that filled her core. It was alluring and calming the gist giving her tranquility that eased the fire.

Zuri watched her daughter's pupils change from black to a red glow a silhouette of a dragon looming over her a roar heard as it moved.

Seeing the great image before them, the people got on their knees. Zikara's monotonous words echoing in their ears just before the girl made contact with the floor short of breath, her body felt weakened as she fixed her eyes on her mother's worried face.

"Zikara. Child," Zuri reached out to her daughter fright in her words.

"Have this child," Zikara's grandmother held a bowl of elixir against her lips. The cold liquid sending a cool flow in her veins, she felt much better.

"Are you okay?" Zuri asked rubbing her daughter's hair from her face.

The child nooded gazing up to her family. Zuri helped her daughter to her feet allowing her to adjust to her own weight.

"We have to leave, they are drawing nearer."

"Here, take this," the old woman handed zikara the eggs which were wrapped in a white fabric, that would help her carry them with ease. "Take care of them and listen to me Zikara, no one should touch the eggs- only you can."

Still perplexed by the situation, Zikara carried the eggs, the goods weighing more than she could carry. She looked at the eggs then back at her grandmother, for the first time in all her cycles had she seen fragility and fear settle on the old woman's features.

Her grandmother was one of the fiercest people she knew, always displaying bravery and intelligence, the old woman was rarely phased by anything unlike today, Zikara was unsure if it was the new passed on heritage or something utterly different that gave her a clearance. The young girl held onto the goods tightly, grasping the white sheet till her knuckles turned pale.

She would do as her bibi declared. Zikara would take care of the eggs even if it cost her life.

"Healer we have to leave, I can see the men," the man Zion spoke in worry.

"You four leave, I'll hold them off," the healer said only to receive a disapproval look from her daughter.

"No mother, I shall not leave without you, without you-"

"Without me the chances of you escaping from here is minimal... You have to leave," insisted Zuri's mother in a more commanding tone.

Knowing her mother she knew it best than to argue back. Zuri took her daughters, taking them by their hands and following their guard.

Running on the sand was not easy, Zikara would often trip and fall to her knees. Smoke filled the once clear atmosphere instead of the saline fragrance that always lingered, a strong pungent smell of burning huts laced with blood filled the air, sounds of metal clinging to eachother stuck to their ears. Zikara could see her people being murdered by the strange looking men, what was even strange about them were their skin colour. It was different, like the shell of an egg.

Her running halted when she saw a boy a little older than her age kneeling on his knees, a bloodied woman lying on the once white sand. He cried calling to her. Zikara walked to him and patted his back, her heart was saddened for him, she couldn't imagine losing any of her family member.

"Drue!''

For the first time since arriving, the boy looked up to follow the voice. Zion ran to him holding his hand out and like a moth to a flame, the young boy got up off his knees and ran, reaching to the elderly man hugging him.

"Uncle!" The boy called between sobs.

"Oh my boy, I'm so dearly sorry," looking at his sister's dead body, his heart ached, a feeling of sadness and anger enveloping him. This triggered a tear. The man wiped the tear then turned to look down at the boy who was less than three feets from his height their contrast laid only in their height and a bit on the young man's nose, he had his father's nose aside from that, the young boy was his mother's replica.

"Listen boy, we shall leave and you are to join us,"

"Go. Where shall we head to uncle and what about our tribe?"

"Our tribe is doomed, for now our only way out is through retreating," Zuri's voice was heard answering the boy's question.

"Abandon our people when they need us?" Drue turned to look at the other remnant of his family and added, "certainly that is not a chivalrous conduct, you never raised me to be a coward."

"It's not cowardly to accept defeat Drue, sometimes cowardice is brought by fighting a fight you know you can not win."

Zion held his nephew in a tight embrace. Drue tightened the embrace not understanding the man's words but trusting in him.

"We have to hurry," Zuri interrupted the two.

Tearing their embrace, Zion walked to his keen's body and kissed her forehead muttering some words before going back to the group. However before they could take another step further, a soldier in an armor charged towards the group, a couple more surrounding the five.