Chapter 415: Rika’s Resting Place in N’folu

Colossal Zaira surged southwest across the open desert, leaving the noisy war camp and forty thousand marching spears far behind.

The endless red plains of the border slowly gave way to towering dunes of golden sand that rolled like frozen ocean waves beneath the midday sun.

Sagiri sat quietly atop Zaira’s broad neck, his hands resting on the dark silk shroud tied securely beside his saddle.

Inside the shroud lay the light, still body of Rika, the last elder daughter of the N’folu clan.

After sixteen years of living in shadows, hatred, and alchemical pain, she was finally returning to the earth that gave her life.

Sagiri looked down at the dark fabric, remembering the terrible hatred that had burned in Rika’s eyes when they first clashed in the canyon.

She had spent her whole life trapped in the bitter shadow of his mother, Rina, poisoned by jealousy and manipulated by cruel men who used her as an expendable puppet.

Yet in the underground laboratory, after the dark seal shattered and her mind cleared, all that poison had melted away into weeping remorse.

Her dying wish had been simple: to be buried in the sacred sands of her homeland, beside the people she had once loved.

By late afternoon, the golden dunes flattened into a vast, silent basin of ash-grey earth and blackened stone.

The air grew strangely cool, carrying the faint scent of old ash and dry wind as they crossed the ancient boundary markers into Nkara.

Ahead of them rose the ruined skeleton of ancient N’folu, stretching across the desolate plain like a forgotten graveyard of giants.

Scorched stone foundations, shattered marble arches, and roofless halls stood half-buried beneath drifting sand.

The last time Sagiri walked through these ruins, the Archive had overwhelmed him with unbearable visions of fire, screaming families, and slaughtered warriors.

This time, however, the dead city stood in absolute, unbroken silence under the pale desert sky.

There were no screaming phantoms and no roaring flames, only the quiet hum of the ancient earth waiting for its child to return.

Zaira slowed her pace as she entered the wide central avenue, her heavy scales grinding softly against the cracked flagstones.

She came to a gentle halt in the wide courtyard before the broken pillars of what was once the grand sanctuary of the Archive.

Sagiri stepped down from Zaira’s brow and carefully lifted Rika’s shrouded body in his arms.

He carried her past the collapsed colonnades and shattered stone steps, walking toward the quiet grove behind the ruined sanctuary.

In the center of the grove stood a massive, withered acacia tree, its dry roots gripping the rocky ground like twisted iron fingers.

This was the ancestral burial garden of the Keeper lineage, where generations of matriarchs and clan leaders had been laid to rest before the great massacre.

Sagiri walked to the base of the old tree, where a clean patch of dark soil lay sheltered from the desert wind.

He gently placed Rika’s body down onto a flat stone slab and unclasped Nokai from his back.

Sagiri held the dark blade in his right hand, channeling a faint, controlled pulse of energy into the tip.

Instead of cutting like a weapon of war, Nokai glowed with a soft, warm darkness that touched the ground with deep reverence.

The dry soil and sand parted smoothly, opening a deep, neat resting place beneath the roots of the ancient tree without disturbing the stones around it.

Sagiri knelt beside the stone slab and folded back the top of the black shroud.

Rika’s pale face was completely calm in death, free from the dark alchemical veins and madness that had tormented her for sixteen years.

She looked remarkably like his mother Rina, sharing the same sharp cheekbones and high forehead of the ancient southern bloodline.

"You are home now, Aunt Rika," Sagiri said softly, his voice carrying clearly in the quiet courtyard.

He gently covered her face once more with the shroud, lifted her body, and lowered her with steady hands into the cool earth.

Sagiri scooped up a handful of fine red desert sand from the edge of the grove and let it trickle slowly over the black silk.

"From the desert we rise, and to the desert we return," Sagiri whispered, reciting the ancient burial rites preserved within his mind.

"May the wind carry away your pain, and may the earth grant you eternal peace."

He used both hands to return the dark soil to the grave, smoothing the surface until it was level with the grove floor.

Sagiri then gathered smooth, dark river stones from around the collapsed fountain and arranged them carefully over the mound in a traditional circular cairn.

When the final stone was placed, Sagiri stood up straight and closed his crimson eyes.

"Mother," Sagiri spoke into the quiet wind. "Your sister has returned to your side."

"The hatred that tore our family apart is gone," he continued. "The lies that blinded our people are broken. I will not let our clan’s memory be defined by vengeance."

As his last word left his lips, a sudden, deep vibration pulsed through the bedrock beneath the entire ruined city.

HUMMM.

A low, melodic resonance rose from deep within the earth, vibrating through the soles of Sagiri’s boots and spreading across the courtyard.

Nokai began to glow brightly on his back, its dark sheath pulsing with bright veins of silver and gold light.

Faint ribbons of luminous energy rose from the soil of the burial grove, dancing through the air like glowing fireflies.

The ancestral earth of N’folu had recognized the burial rites of its last daughter and the pure heart of its living Keeper.

The floating ribbons of light swirled around Sagiri, sinking gently into Nokai’s twenty floating blades before flowing directly into his chest.

A profound, soothing warmth spread through his spiritual pathways, clearing away the lingering dark trauma that had haunted his connection to the Archive for months.

The ancient memories within his mind no longer felt like sharp, jagged knives tearing at his soul.

Instead, they aligned into a smooth, brilliant ocean of living knowledge, unlocking a deeper, purer harmony with the cosmic memory of his ancestors.

Suddenly, a sharp, burning ache flared deep within his chest, making him catch his breath and press his hand against his ribs.

The heavy toll of absorbing the primordial relics and the strain of continuous battles were beginning to press hard against his mortal body.

He took a slow, steady breath, regulating his cellular flow until the burning heat subsided into a faint, manageable throb.

He knew his physical limits were being tested, but his spirit had never felt clearer or more focused.

Sagiri stepped back from the stone cairn and bowed deeply toward the grave of his aunt and the silent ruins of his clan.

"Rest well," Sagiri said. "I will protect the living, and I will build a world where our children never have to fear the dark."

He turned on his heel and walked back across the courtyard, where Zaira was waiting with her massive head resting against the flagstones.

Sagiri leaped smoothly onto the titan serpent’s neck, settling into the saddle and taking hold of her armored crest.

"To Thazir, Zaira," Sagiri commanded, his voice filled with iron determination. "We must secure the homeland before we march north."

Zaira let out a deep, rumbling hiss that shook the dust from the ruined pillars, her giant body coiling with renewed power.

With a sudden burst of speed, the colossal serpent surged out of the ancient ruins and swept across the sunlit dunes like a dark river of iron.

The Last Keeper rode toward Thazir with an untroubled heart, ready to secure his rear, face the council, and unite the continent for the war ahead.