32. Lionhearted Mercies
32
Lionhearted Mercies
ISSA
T he Alatyr sliced through the velvet pre-dawn sky, its sleek silhouette stark against the hush of the waking world below.
Dunia’s sun illuminated the rolling farmland as Ki’Remi guided the ship to the surface, scanning the land for any signs of movement.
The location lay just beyond a vast acacia grove, hidden between sprawling pastures of golden wheat and flowering orchards heavy with mangoes, pomegranates, and sweet figs.
Neat rows of coffee plants stretched into the distance, their dark leaves glistening in the daybreak illumination.
The ship’s landing thrusters engaged.
Sending a cloud of dust and loose grass into the air as they settled in a clearing near a dirt road lined with twisted baobab trees.
Scattered huts and homesteads dotted the horizon past the fields, their roofs still slick with morning dew.
In the distance, a handful of farmers emerged from their dwellings, baskets slung over their backs, their tools gleaming in the early light.
One of them, an older man with grizzled locs and a floppy-brimmed straw hat, raised a hand in greeting before turning back to his field.
Ki’Remi, unbuckling from the pilot’s seat, glanced at Issa.
‘Is this it?’ he asked, scanning the landscape.
Issa exhaled, her eyes locked onto a winding dirt path that led beyond the fields and toward a house at the base of a hill.
‘Tis the location my brother sent.’
She swallowed, shoulders braced in anticipation, fingers flexing as if she had to remind herself to breathe. ‘I’m so nervous. Why?’
Ki’Remi’s gaze lingered on her. ‘Tis anticipation. You’ve waited long for this moment.’
‘What else do you notice?’ she asked, buying time.
The Sableman’s eyes glimmered.
‘Love, hope, and the deep, aching need for family.’
She let out a soft scoff, though it lacked her usual bravado. ‘You see all that?’
His lips twitched. ‘I do. Relax, kidaya . You’ve got this.’
He reached out, his calloused fingers brushing over the back of her hand, grounding her, offering silent reassurance.
She gave him a brief, grateful look, squared her shoulders, and took the first step toward home.
With a hiss of depressurization, the gangway extended.
Outside, the air was crisp and thick with the scent of rain-soaked ground, sun-warmed grain, and mangoes ripening in a distant orchard.
Birds trilled from the trees, and the rustle of wind through tall grass whispered against the quiet of the countryside.
As The Alatyr’s rear deck hissed shut behind them, he took her hand as she led them to a modest yet sturdy farmhouse that rose from pale stone and warm red clay.
Its sloping roof was thatched in the heritage Dunia style, an old Earth tradition.
The windows were open, sheer white curtains billowing in the soft afternoon breeze.
A wraparound veranda framed the front, wooden posts worn smooth by time.
The steps led to a small vegetable garden teeming with lush greens and delicate sprouting herbs.
Issa inhaled, her shoulders stiffening, fingers twitching, resisting the urge to run forward.
The man beside her squeezed her hand in a grounding touch.
Just then, the farmhouse door flew open, and a tall, broad-shouldered man with deep bronze skin and graying locs stepped onto the veranda.
His burnished gold eyes swirled with the light of far-off constellations locked on Issa’s own, which were misted.
A moment of frozen silence.
Then, his entire frame trembled.
‘Issa?’
His gravel-rough, disbelieving utterance carried across the yard.
Issa gave a choked sound, something between a sob and a laugh, and then she ran.
The man just had a second to brace himself before she collided with him, encircling his waist like she never intended to let go.
A ragged inhale, and then his grasp crushed her against him.
‘My daughter,’ he murmured, tone thick. ‘My precious one.’
Next, a woman appeared, regal, with long coiled braids woven with silver threads, her luminous skin untouched by time.
Her eyes were like Issa’s: wild, astral, burning with galaxies.
With a cry, she joined the embrace, her arms wrapping around both husband and daughter, her breath coming in quiet, choked sobs.
‘I never lost faith,’ she muttered. ‘I always hoped you would find a way to heal baba and return to us.’
Her father pulled back and raked his eyes over her with raw emotion.
Issa closed her eyes, hands hovering over her father’s chest where the Sirr Sanctum stone had once drawn his life away.
A warm golden glow radiated from her fingertips, seeping into his skin and spreading through his veins.
Then, with a final energy pulse, she opened her eyes and smiled.
‘It’s truly gone,’ she whispered.
Her father exhaled, running a trembling hand over his torso. ‘I knew twas you when it shattered, and my spirit returned to me.’
Her mother was tearing up by now, pressing her hands over her mouth.
Issa finally pulled back, her breath catching as she moved into Raquel’s grasp.
Her mother’s scent, jasmine and spice, the lingering essence of sacred oils, wrapped around her, poignant and comforting.
Issa inhaled, steadying herself before motioning to the man always at her six. ‘ Baba, Mama , I want you to meet someone.’
‘This is Ki’Remi Sable, the love of my life, and why we all stand here today. Remi, please meet Zephyr, officially General Zephyr Astraeus D’Leqan. First Blade of the Dawning Flame, Father of Storm and Mercy, Keeper of the Lionhearted Line of Sacra. He who stood beneath a thousand suns and did not waver, whose roar once silenced the battlefield, whose embrace sheltered the stars. Wounded but unbroken, cast from the heavens yet carrying the sky within him. A father not just to his kin, but to courage itself.’
Ki’Remi arched a brow and gave the illustrious man a bow. ‘Tis my pleasure to meet you,’ he intoned.
He turned to the older woman beside Issa. ‘Who is this stunning beauty?’
Issa’s eyes misted as she pulled the woman close to her. ‘This is Raquel Asilla Ministrant D’Leqan. My Heartmother of the Seven Winds, Flame-Womb of the Radiant Lineage, The Quiet Star That Endures. She birthed brilliance beneath shadowed skies, whose lullabies once calmed celestial storms. Gentle as the dawn, fierce as comet fire, her love carved a safe passage through ruin. A healer of soul, a weaver of legacy, a constellation unto herself.’
‘I am pleased to make your acquaintance,’ the Sableman said, reaching for Raquel’s hand and kissing the soft skin on its back.
She simpered and blushed as her daughter explained. ‘It’s a human tradition that bestows esteemed honor to you, mama.’
‘I know of it and accept it,’ said the woman with a smile.
Zephyr’s gaze flicked toward the Ki’Remi’s looming presence.
Twas the contemplation of a man who was intimate with hell, who’d been flung into the abyss and dared it to look back.
The old warrior’s eyes held no warmth, no hostility, only the still, measured weight of judgment.
Ki’Remi met it without flinching, welcoming the solemn scrutiny.
Then Issa’s mother stepped forward with a soft smile
‘So,’ she murmured, her husky voice loaded as if she still had a thousand untold stories to tell. ‘I acknowledge you, warrior. You’re the warrior who anchored our daughter with the sheer force of care, devotion, and warlock powers. You also helped liberate my beloved’s soul.’
Ki’Remi straightened. ‘I am.’
Her gaze did not waver.
‘Do you love her?’
His jaw tightened, muscles flexing beneath the shifting gold and silver of his metanoid tattoos.
‘With everything I am.’
Issa felt the jolt of his claiming and the rush of joy as silence settled on them.
Raquel nodded with the quiet acceptance of a woman who wanted only happiness for her child. ‘Then we will feed you.’
A startled laugh burst from Issa. ‘That’s it? That’s all he had to do to earn your blessing?’
Raquel shrugged. ‘Child, he fights gods, defies celestial armies, walks through fire for you; what more could we ask for? Even better is that he loves you.’
Her mother went on, smiling, her glittering eyes crinkling at the edges. ‘I sense his power is exponential, yet he still chooses you; he wants to sit at your heart, to inhabit your home and your heart. How can I refuse so pure a sentiment?’
Ki’Remi’s mouth quirked at the words.
Still, Zephyr had not spoken.
Without warning, the grizzled warrior extended his hand.
The Rider grasped it, meeting the older man’s grip with equal strength, neither overpowering nor yielding.
Their arms locked, and for a beat, there was no sound but the wind through the golden fields, no movement but the shifting of shadows across the ground.
Issa blinked as Zephyr’s gaze bore into Ki’Remi’s.
At last came a single, measured breath.
‘ Sante ,’ Zephyr murmured. ‘For bringing her home.’
His voice was redolent and rich with appreciation.
Ki’Remi nodded, unable to find words that mattered.
Issa stared at her man and then at her parents, still lost in disbelief that the moment they hoped for all these years was now a reality.
For the first time, she understood that some battles did not just prevail in the war zone.
They were conquered in a farmhouse, deep in the hinterlands of Dunia, in the victories of holding the people you loved and knowing they were free.