Whispers and Spirits

Chapter 3: Whispers and Spirits

"So your people worship the spirits of the natural world?" Elara Meadows says, trying not to look directly at Maliwe with a slight blush gracing her cheeks.

"Yes, something like that. We honor the spirits of the natural world, elemental forces, and the afterlife," Maliwe explained, his eyes gleaming with reverence. "We believe that everything in this world possesses a spirit. The trees, the rivers, and the mountains all have spirits that dictate their purpose in the natural order. As shamans, we train to hear their whispers. Through these whispers, we can reach out and make contact with a spirit or multiple spirits. If contact is successful, the spirit will carry our own whispers to the rest of the natural world. It's through our own whispers that we can influence and, in a sense, bend the natural order a bit." Maliwe explained.

Elara nodded, hooked on your words. "So, what do the spirit whispers say?" She took a sip of her tea and a bite of the cake in front of her.

The two sat in a small bakery. Class for the day ended uneventfully. Maliwe took this easy as a chance to speak with Elara again, seeing this as a chance to see what the church may have planned for the future.

Maliwe smiled softly, observing Elara's genuine interest. "That's... that's not something I can say," he responded.

Elara's face slowly saddened as she realized she might have overstepped. Her eyes widened with worry. "Oh... oh, I'm sorry!" she stammered. "Every religion has its secrets that outsiders aren't allowed to know. I—I'm sorry for asking such a thing!"

Maliwe closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. "No, it's nothing like that. As I said, I cannot explain it fully. Hearing the whispers isn't like someone whispering in your ear. It's more like hearing a harmonizing song that your spirit connects to. Your spirit has to harmonize its own song with theirs. If there is harmonization, it's like... colors, tastes, feelings, and visuals all colliding with your senses simultaneously. It's chaos and harmony, creation and destruction... balance." Maliwe stopped and stared at his drink, sitting in silence for what felt like forever as he struggled to honestly explain it all.

"Maliwe..." Elara's soft, shy voice called out, catching his attention again.

"Oh, sorry, I just got lost in...it," the Maliwean said before drinking his entire drink in a single gulp.

Elara reached out, lightly touching Maliwe's hand. "I think I understand a little better now," she said gently, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. "It's not something that can be easily put into words."

Maliwe looked at her hand on his, his eyes a mix of surprise and something softer. "Thank you for trying to understand, Elara."

Maliwe gently withdrew his hand, feeling a twinge of something unfamiliar yet oddly comforting. He smiled a gesture that felt more genuine than he'd managed in a long time. "I appreciate your curiosity, Elara. It's rare to find someone so eager to understand our ways."

Elara returned the smile, her eyes twinkling with sincerity. "Well, I believe that understanding each other is the first step to true friendship. Besides, your people sounds so fascinating compared to what I'm used to."

Maliwe doesn't say anything; he looks at her with sympathetic eyes. I know exactly how your church is; on the surface, it shows a kind, loving, and welcoming from under the name of your goddess. But behind the mask, it's as ruthless and political as any other institution.

---

Zahara Mbeki strolled through the bustling marketplace of the Thralia Kingdom, her eyes absorbing the differences in architecture and wares being sold. Vendors called out their wares, and the air was filled with mingling scents both familiar and exotic to her. Despite the noise and chaos, Zahara searched for the sense of battle and adventure, something she thrived on.

As she turned a corner into a quieter alley, a group of men emerged from the shadows. Their leader, a burly man with a scar on his cheek, stepped forward with a sneer. "Well, well, what do we have here? A pretty little foreigner wandering all alone," he taunted, his companions chuckling.

Zahara raised an eyebrow, her hand resting casually on her hip. "Step aside, smelly one," she said dismissively. She stood in a relaxed pose, utterly unconcerned by the three men before her. To her, they were weak and untrained, hardly worth her words, let alone a fight.

The burly man's sneer deepened, his eyes narrowing at Zahara's lack of fear. "You've got quite the mouth on you," he growled, stepping closer. "Let's see if you're still so brave after using it better."

"Is there a problem here?" a calm voice asked from behind Zahara.

A tall, imposing figure approached, his presence commanding immediate attention. It was Lucius Ironheart, his hand resting confidently on the hilt of his sword.

"Do you three have some business with a foreign princess of Maliwea?" he asked, stepping smoothly between Zahara and the thugs. His voice was calm but carried an unmistakable authority.

The leader of the thugs hesitated, clearly recognizing Lucius Ironheart. His bravado wavered as he stepped back, raising his hands defensively. "No trouble here, just a misunderstanding," he muttered, motioning for his men to back off.

Lucius' gaze bore into the thug. "Leave now and take your misunderstanding with you," he commanded. The thugs didn't need to be told twice. They slinked away, casting wary glances over their shoulders.

Zahara, arms crossed and unimpressed, watched them go. "That was unnecessary," she said.

Lucius turned to face her, and a small, confident smile formed. "Unnecessary or not, I'd rather avoid an international incident of another national princess being attacked on Thralian soil."

The dark-skinned woman's eyes narrowed at the noble swordsman. "I am not a princess! I belong to the warrior caste, a spirit warrior, to be exact," she retorted, her voice firm and defiant.

"Yes, I've been thoroughly briefed about your people's caste system. Not to be disrespectful, but aren't you the daughter of Kwame Mbeki?" Lucius asked.

"That's Grand High Shaman Kwame Mbeki, and yes, what of it?" Zahara replied.

"My apologies. Isn't he the highest political figure in your land, capable of making laws and rules?" he continued.

"In the sense that you're probably thinking, yes," she conceded.

"Then you are a princess," Lucius stated plainly. "In the eyes of Thralians, he would be viewed as a king. It's best to keep these things simple for the common folk."

Zahara's eyes flashed with irritation, but she managed to rein in her temper. "Fine, if it simplifies things, think of me as a princess. But don't expect me to act like one."

Lucius chuckled softly. "Duly noted. I was just out to eat lunch. Would you care to join me if you haven't already eaten, m'lady?" the young knight said, giving a formal bow.

At this, a flame ignited in Zahara's eyes as she instinctively began to call upon the spirits of fire. Lucius quickly raised his arms in surrender, chuckling.

"I jest! I jest!" he exclaimed, still smiling. "But my offer to dine with me was entirely sincere."

The flame in Zahara's eyes dimmed. "Fine, I grow hungry anyway, and the eldest one went out with the thick one, leaving me alone." She turned to return to the open market area with Lucius by her side.

"The... thick one?" Lucius asked, clearly confused.

"Yes, the one whose hair is the color of the sun," she replied.

"The sun... you mean Elara?" The young knight paused, thinking about how the future saintess is indeed quite curvaceous, before shaking the thought from his mind.

"That's what I said, the thick one," Zahara repeated, causing Lucius to stifle a laugh.

"Hold on, you two! Did I just hear you correctly?" a third voice called from the side.

Zahara and Lucius turned towards the source of the voice. Standing a few paces away was a well-groomed, slightly overweight guy with a round, chubby face. Victor Emberforge approached them with a confident stride.

"Victor," Lucius acknowledged with a polite nod. "What brings you to this part of the market?"

"I was just finishing up a business deal, but more importantly, did I hear correctly that my sweet little Elara is alone with that Maliwean?" the chubby merchant asked, his face shifting to dread.

"Indeed," Lucius replied, rolling his eyes, his face giving off a 'here we go again' expression.

Victor's face flushed with annoyance, his eyes narrowing. "No man has any business being alone with Elara. Only I am good enough for you!"

Lucius sighed, exasperated, accustomed to Victor's possessive attitude towards Elara. "Let's try not to cause an international incident... or a religious one," he says.

Lucius tired away from Victor to Zahara. "Well, M'lady Zahara, shall we resume getting lunch? After all, food waits for no one," he said.

"Call me 'M'lady' again, and I'll set you ablaze," the Maliwean retorted, a hint of warning in his voice, before turning on his heel and striding off in the direction they were initially heading.

"Wait, where are you going?" the merchant cried out in alarm, but it was too late. The pair were already out of sight.

"I have to find her before that man corrupts my woman!" Victor shouted, running off randomly, unaware he had no idea where the shaman and the saint-in-training were.

---

Maliwe and Elara spent the entire day together, and now, as night fell, the Capitol was gradually quieting down. Elara unknowingly clung to Maliwe's arm, pressing her chest against it and resting her head on his shoulder as they walked through the empty streets.

With her eyes closed, Elara let Maliwe guide her wherever he wished, lost in peaceful bliss. A small smile played on her lips, the only sound of her soft breathing. Maliwe's body stiffened at the physical contact. The young shaman tried to ignore the warmth spreading throughout his body, focusing on guiding Elara to the dorms.

"Maliwe," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

"Yes, Elara?" Maliwe answered.

"Thank you for today. I had a lot of fun," she said, her voice dreamy.

Maliwe smiled, "I'm glad. Maybe we can do this again?"

"Of course! I would love that," Elara replied, her smile growing wider.

The rest of the walk passed in comfortable silence, the two enjoying each other's company with the bright moon in the sky.

---

The following day, the Maliwean siblings silently walked through the school grounds.

"You were out late last night, youngest one," Maliwe said.

Zahara didn't bother to look at her brother. "You're asking the spirits about my location now, dear eldest?"

"Absolutely. I need to know that you aren't feeding people or places to the flame," he responded, not looking at her.

As they continued walking, their silence was heavy with unspoken words. The school grounds were bustling with students, but the siblings seemed isolated in their own world. After a while, the younger sibling finally broke the silence.

"You worry too much, dear eldest. The spirits guide me as they do you. I just can't hear their song the same way you can."

For the first time that morning, Maliwe glanced at her, his expression softening slightly as he placed his hand affectionately on her head. "I know, dear youngest. But you still hear the song of flames, and the flames want nothing more than to burn, as is their nature... your nature. I don't wish to stop your nature, only to ensure it doesn't burn indiscriminately," he responded.

Zahara looked up at her brother, her fiery spirit momentarily subdued by his gentle touch. "I understand, eldest. But sometimes, the flames must blaze to clear the way for new growth. You can't always contain them."

"True, dear youngest. But in this foreign land, we must tread carefully. Our actions are watched, and our purpose is to build trust."

They walked on, their footsteps echoing through the courtyard until they reached the training grounds where the other envoys and students were gathered. The sight of Prince Cedric Ardent sparring with Sir Lucius Ironheart caught their attention.

The prince's skill was remarkable, and his form was fluid and elegant as he gracefully deflected his opponent's blows, making the attacks seem effortless. Yet, it was apparent Lucius wasn't even trying. To the untrained eye, the fight seemed equal, but the difference in their sword skills was as stark as night and day.

After exchanging a few more blows, Prince Cedric lunged towards the noble swordsman, hoping to catch him by surprise. Instead, Sir Ironheart simply stepped out of the way, his body as fluid as water.

"It's over," Zahara said simply.

Sir Ironheart struck out with a quick flurry of blows. The prince tried to block them, but to his surprise, the strikes connected, causing him to flinch. Before the young prince could recover, the swordsman kicked out, sweeping the prince's legs from beneath him. With the prince flat on his back, Sir Ironheart quickly stepped over him, placing his sword at the prince's throat.

"You're dead," Lucius said simply.

"So I am," the prince conceded, rising from the ground with an effortless grace as if the entire training session had been nothing more than a show.

The students gathered in the courtyard watched the demonstration in awe, wondering if it would ever be possible for them to move with the grace and elegance of the noble swordsman.

The eldest of the Maliwean siblings, Maliwe, stepped forward and asked, "Sister, do you wish to let your fire burn now?"

Zahara looked at the flames dancing within her eyes. The fire that burned within her demanded release, but she didn't answer.

"How about we give them a show—a duel between siblings?" the eldest Maliwean sibling suggested with a grin. "You already know you don't have to hold back against me."

A grin spread across her face. "By the glory of the flames, I am Zahara Mbeki, a child of fire, and I shall burn!"

Maliwe knew his sister would say that, before walking towards the center of the training ground followed by him. "I am Maliwe Mbeki, a child of spirits, and I shall transcend," he said with confidence.

As the siblings stood across from each other, a heat haze enveloped Zahara, shimmering around her form before flames erupted in her right hand, coalescing into four throwing knives that gleamed between her fingers. Simultaneously, a second flame burst forth in her left hand, shaping into a giant, triple-bladed boomerang.

In response, Maliwe raised his hands, and a staff materialized before him—an ancient, sturdy oak weathered and twisted with age yet pulsating with an aura of timeless wisdom. At the staff's top, a large, luminescent crystal was securely cradled by the branches, glowing with an ethereal light that changed colors with the spirit's mood.

Maliwe felt the ground tremble beneath his feet, a prelude to the spirits' ancient song. "Begin!" he commanded, unleashing a surge of spiritual energy that erupted outward from his being, compelling all but the strongest to seek refuge from its overwhelming **** in the courtyard.

The ground shook violently as massive stones began to rise from the earth, surrounding the Maliwean siblings. Then, enormous stone walls came crashing down over Zahara, intending to crush her beneath their weight.

The heat haze surrounding Zahara erupted into a raging tempest, incinerating any stones that dared to fall in her vicinity, leaving her completely unscathed.

The Heat Haze Shield. Zahara only uses that when she's up against someone she has a slim chance of winning against. The fact that she started with that technique and hasn't dashed into melee range yet shows she's worried about what her brother will do, Jamal pondered, observing the scene through Maliwe's eyes.

We'll stick to elemental spirits for now; if I need to call something else... we'll just have to wait and see, Jamal thought again as he reached forward. Maliwe also extended his hand forward, a giant talon of flames manifesting and launching at Zahara to grab her.

However, Zahara swiftly dispersed the fiery talon with a spin and a downward wing, revealing a furious spirit warrior. "H-HOW DARE YOU CHALLENGE A CHILD OF FIRE WITH FLAMES?" Zahara exclaimed angrily.

The youngest Maliwean retaliated by hurling a flaming boomerang at Maliwe, then dashed to the side, attempting to outmaneuver him while launching knives one by one.

Maliwe anticipated his younger sister's movements, She's always been easy to rile up, and that makes you lose your sense of tactics, he thought to himself. With a swift motion, he twirled his staff, deflecting the incoming knives effortlessly. As the fiery boomerang flew towards him, he summoned a gust of wind to divert its path, sending it harmlessly spinning away.

"Not this, gotcha!" Zahara yells, pulling her left hand back into a closed fist. Despite riding the wind, the flaming boomerang continues to spin and turn around, heading right back at Maliwe from one side. At the same time, Zahara dashes at him directly from the front, flames propelling her forward at a drastically increased speed, shooting from her back. A spear of flames had been formed in her right hand without Maliwe realizing it, and she was ready to drive it through her brother's chest.

"Maelstrom Shield!" Maliwe's voice boomed, commanding the elemental forces to his aid. Instantly, he became enveloped in a swirling cyclone of stormy winds and dark clouds, crackling with bursts of lightning that arced outward unpredictably. A single lightning bolt struck, striking the flaming boomerang precisely, shattering it into harmless embers.

As the intense battle unfolded, the training ground had emptied of most students, leaving only a select few spectators. Prince Cedric, Sir Lucius, Sir Damian, and Sir Roland Evergreen witnessed the due. Suddenly, another lightning bolt crackled through the air, aimed directly at the prince. However, before a disaster could happen, Sir Damian leaped into action, drawing his blade with lightning speed. With a swift slash, he intercepted the bolt, splitting it into two matching streams of energy that surged toward opposite ends of the training field, sparing the prince from harm.

"Your highness," the hero chosen by God spoke up, concern evident in his voice. This may be growing too perilous. Should we not intervene?"

Undeterred by the escalating danger, the prince remained steadfast in his decision. "No," he responded calmly, his demeanor unwavering despite the imminent threat. "Let them continue. This is a rare opportunity to witness firsthand the true extent of the Maliweans' abilities. I am curious to see just how far they will push themselves."

Despite having narrowly avoided a direct strike moments before, the prince stood resolute, his gaze unwavering. He stared unflinchingly into the heart of the raging storm, a beacon of unwavering courage amidst the chaos.

Zahara collided with the Maelstrom Shield, her Heat Haze Shield erupting into a fiery tempest that deflected the lightning bolts. She pressed forward relentlessly, her determination unwavering, until she finally cracked the shield, only to find it empty inside. The shield exploded, sending her flying with a mighty wind **** across the training ground.

As the dust and debris settled, Maliwe was nowhere to be seen. The spectators looked around frantically, searching for any sign of him. Suddenly, Maliwe appeared behind Zahara and lightly tapped her on the head with his staff. "I win. That's enough for now, youngest one."

"W-wait, what?" Zahara exclaimed, stunned. "I can still fight! I'm not done!" she nearly yelled.

"Of course, you can," Maliwe replied calmly, gently touching her head. "But this is just a friendly duel, remember? Not a fight to the ****."

Zahara's fierce expression softened slightly, though her pride still burned. "I know, but—"

Maliwe interrupted her with a caring smile. "I'm very proud of you. The way you redirected your attack back at me was impressive. I didn't realize you had such a deep connection with the flame spirits that they'd fight alongside you that way."

Zahara's eyes widened at her brother's praise, and she felt pride and gratitude. "Thank you, eldest," she murmured, her voice almost filled with embarrassment.

"But what did you do at the end? Where were you?" Zahara asked, bewildered.

"Oh, I used the wind to bend the light around me, making myself invisible to the naked eye," Maliwe explained calmly. "I also used the wind to mask my footsteps so your keen hearing couldn't track me by sound."

Zahara frowned, considering her brother's explanation. "You're always one step ahead, aren't you?" she asked, a mix of admiration and frustration in her voice.

Maliwe chuckled softly. "Not always, dear youngest. But we can learn from each other."

Their conversation was interrupted by a slow clap from the edge of the training ground. Prince Cedric stepped forward, followed closely by Sir Lucius and Sir Damian.

"This proves it!" Prince Cedric declared, his voice filled with conviction. "I need to speak with you two privately. Tomorrow at lunch, please come to the private dining room. But for now..."

He paused, his eyes quickly averting. "M'lady Zahara, you might want to get yourself some clothes."

Neither Zahara nor Maliwe seemed particularly bothered by their nudity. With a shrug, Maliwe summoned vines and plants from the ground, which wrapped around their bodies to create makeshift clothing. Sufficiently covered, they returned to the dorm without a hint of embarrassment.

AN: Still haven't decide if i should make this a nsfw story or not...