Chapter 7: The Secrets Of The Crest

"I absolutely don’t understand any of this!" Kren muttered to himself from his spot within their impromptu camp.

They had been on the road for the last three days, stopping in towns and villages to rest as their route took them through the formerly Kora-owned territory, now governed by the Ale snake kingdom — giving them the single largest territory in the entire empire. Unfortunately, having the largest territory did not exactly mean you could govern it properly.

Everywhere they passed, Kren had to endure the sight of his ancestral home in shambles. The roads were unmaintained, farms had died out, and wild beasts roamed the land far more than they ever had in his father’s time. Feline tribesmen of every breed suffered under the heel of oppression and slavery, unable to fight back.

It had been a lesson in willpower to turn his gaze away from his people’s suffering. Bernice was right about that much — he had to wait, he had to get stronger. Only then would he be able to do something meaningful, and the first step to all of that was returning home and ascending the throne as he ought to.

That was the start, and he was sure they could all feel it now — that they could cultivate Aura once more. But he also knew their oppressors would sense it too, and the crackdowns would only grow more severe. Only by going home and letting his people know their king had finally returned would they be safe.

Those who could would return to their small territory. Those who couldn’t would only be able to pray to the spirits of their ancestors, waiting for their king to come save them. Kren had absolutely no intention of disappointing them. He would be coming for them, and soon.

"Your Majesty?" Kren jumped slightly, drawn out of his thoughts by the carriage driver.

"I’ve made supper, Your Majesty. You need to eat." Kren waved a hand.

"I’m not hungry, Aki." The white-haired cat kin frowned, his right eyelid twitching in annoyance as he dropped the food in front of Kren with a grunt.

"Don’t give me that. The crest isn’t running away, Your Majesty. Eat! You’ve been at this all day, and not a drink of water or a bite of food has crossed your tongue. A beast might dwell within you, but you’re still a man. Now eat, or I’ll go get the Regent."

Kren hissed at Aki. The man rolled his eyes, completely unbothered. Aki was actually quite short, no taller than four and a half feet, which — set against Kren’s rather impressive height — was hard to ignore. But Aki was not intimidated by a man whose diapers he had once changed, and the way he looked at Kren proved it. Kren groaned and threw his hands up in resignation.

"Fine! I’ll eat. The stupid crest is refusing to show me those bloody techniques anyway. Nothing I’ve tried is working." He grumbled as he shoveled a spoonful of food into his mouth, chewing aggressively. Aki took a seat right beside him, the campfire flickering in front of them.

"Felines don’t force things, Your Majesty. You know that better than anyone. We’re precision hunters, even with all the brute force the larger of our species carry." Kren swallowed and looked at Aki with a frown.

"So what’s your point?"

Aki rolled his eyes and bonked Kren on the head. "The crest belongs to you. Tell it what you want. It wouldn’t deny its king." Kren blinked at Aki’s words.

"Would that even work?" he asked softly. Aki chuckled as Kren set the food aside, reaching for the crest again — only for Aki to slap his hands away.

"Food first, then crest after. And go to bed soon. I can’t focus on my watch if you keep pacing around the campfire." Kren nodded absentmindedly and attacked the food with renewed ferocity.

Aki, for all intents and purposes, was the last of the palace guards. Strange, how far a royal family had fallen that they had only one guard left. But Aki was different — Kren had been handed to him as a charge from the moment he was born, which meant most of his memories, his life, had been spent learning at the feet of Aki and Bernice. They were the two people he trusted most in the whole world. The two he could confidently say would die for him.

Aki got up and left Kren to his own devices as the soon-to-be king cleared his plate in record time. He set the plate aside, washed it down with a hefty swig of wine and water, wiped his mouth, and picked the crest up again.

Kren wondered how to go about it. The crest held techniques unique not just to the N’kora bloodline, but shared in some form by the other feline tribesmen — every other art or spell they used had been born from what the N’kora had gained from the crest. But the royal techniques were specific to the affinities of the royal family. In this case: Darkness, Earth, and Wind.

"Show me an N’kora wind art."

For a moment nothing happened. Then the crest began to glow, subtle lines creeping along the etchings that showed a lion roaring to the sky in fury. The glow deepened, and somehow Kren felt drawn into it. Aura began to gather subtly around them, leaves rustling softly as wind crept its way through the trees.

Aki’s ears twitched. He turned and looked at Kren with a small smile, then glanced toward the carriage, where the curtains had been pulled back and Bernice was watching Kren with a focused look in her eyes. She observed him a few seconds longer before shifting her gaze to Aki. They exchanged a subtle nod and returned to what they’d been doing, leaving Kren alone.

Kren, meanwhile, had fallen into a trance. The world around him blurred at the edges as the fire died down. He raised his head — but there was no one around him. He found himself in a pitch-black space, with only the flames in front of him as his sole light source. Then he heard a growl from the darkness.

Kren scrambled to his feet, surveying the area. But no matter which way he turned, he saw nothing. No one. And then a voice spoke from the darkness.

"Blood of Kora, you stand before your ancestor’s spirit. What do you see?" ℯℯ𝘭.

A lion roared out of the darkness — mane and hide black as night, claws gleaming in the dim firelight. It tore past Kren faster than his eyes could track, the wind of its passing dragging razor-thin lines of pressure across his thighs.

"Argh!"

Kren cried out, staggering back as the lion vanished into the dark again. He cursed under his breath and looked down at his leg. There was no wound. He’d felt the pain — real, sharp, undeniable — but there was no blood, no mark.

"N’kora."

The rumbling voice spoke again, and Kren snapped to attention. N’kora — that was the formal way to address someone of the bloodline, the same way Bernice’s family name, Mbezi, became N’Mbezi. Blood of Mbezi. Blood of Kora. But there was a weight to the way this voice used it, as though it meant far more than a simple acknowledgment of lineage.

"What do you hear?"

This time the lion came from behind. Kren heard it, felt it coming, but couldn’t react fast enough — the next swipe of claws took his legs out from under him. He hit the ground hard, and before he could rise, the lion was already on him, paws pinning his chest, massive jaws hanging inches above his face, fangs glinting like drawn moonlight.

"I asked you a question, cub. What do you see, and what do you hear?"

The lion was speaking — but that was the least of Kren’s worries right now. He didn’t understand what was happening, only that it had everything to do with the crest. So he would answer, and maybe the damn thing would let him go find the art he’d come for.

"I see you, Gamade N’kora." Kren blinked in shock. How did he know that name? How did he know, with such clarity, whose spirit this was, whose inner beast stood over him?

"G-grandfather?" The lion growled and pressed down harder on his chest. Kren could barely breathe as it asked again, "What do you hear?"

Kren opened his mouth to answer, then stopped. Unlike the first question, there was no instinctive answer waiting for him this time, and he had the distinct feeling that a wrong answer here would carry consequences far beyond a scratch. He took a breath and thought hard — about the king pinning him down, and about what he could actually hear around them.

His grandfather had not had an illustrious reign. There was no way the N’zar would have left an N’kora alone long enough for a peaceful one — there had always been plots, always machinations to end them. Gamade had been called the Lion of the Wind. People said he spoke to it — to the spirits of the four winds — and that they served at his whim.

But that was history. This was now. And the question had been simple: what can you hear? Perhaps it was foolish, but Kren closed his eyes and let go of what his sight was telling him. He leaned into his ears instead — listened to the earth beneath him, to the darkness pressing in around them, to the soft crackle of the dying fire. Nothing answered him directly. Only the faint trickle of wind, flowing steadily from all four directions at once. Kren opened his eyes and met the lion’s gaze. Piercing golden eyes bore into his, daring him to fail. Kren met that challenge without flinching.

"I hear the wind. It flows here from the north, just as it is carried from the south, pushed from the east, and delivered from the west. I see you, N’kora, and I hear the wind — I hear it clearly."

The lion pulled back. Kren saw acknowledgment in its eyes, and acceptance. Pride. In the space of a breath, it shifted — mane receding into thinning hair with an obvious bald spot, claws folding into fingers. Blink and you’d have missed it: one moment a lion stood before him, the next a man in the twilight of his years, still standing strong, still fierce. He reached out a hand and pulled Kren to his feet.

"You are not ready for the deeper knowledge of the crest, boy. Not at your level of strength. But the spirits of the four winds have chosen you, just as they chose me. Understand them. Master them. Surrender yourself to them, and they will defend you without fail. It took me many years to understand this spell. It is now my gift to you. Go, N’kora, blood of my blood. and show the world our POWER!"

The crack of a gunshot split the night as an Aura-propelled musket ball smashed into the log Kren had been sitting on, missing his leg by mere centimeters. The vision shattered. He was left kneeling in the dirt, crest still clutched in his hand, as the woods around them erupted into motion — Aki already sprinting toward him, mouth open in warning.

"AMBUSH!"