The sun filtered weakly through the compound's barred windows. Outside, voices murmured — guards changing shifts, boots dragging across gravel, metal doors opening and slamming shut. Inside, Muzi sat on the edge of his bed, sharpening a stolen knife on the concrete floor.
He wasn't sure why.
> [Spiritual Energy Stable. Shadow Vein strengthening slowly.]
[Current Rank: Outer Vein – Stage 1]
The system buzzed softly in the back of his mind, like a quiet engine. Maphanga's voice hadn't spoken yet today — and Muzi was starting to miss it.
He stood, stepping outside. The compound was surrounded by rusted fencing and grey concrete walls tagged with graffiti — most of it in coded symbols only gang members could understand. But even in this dull place, the morning felt… different.
And then he saw her.
Sphilile sat on the steps of the storage shed, patching a torn part of her jeans with a dull needle and thread. She hadn't noticed him yet. That's when Muzi really looked.
She was younger than he'd thought — maybe a year younger than him — with soft brown skin and thick black braids pulled into a rough ponytail. Her eyes… they weren't soft. They were stormy grey, rare in a Swazi girl. Calm one moment, wild the next — like they'd seen too much but refused to break.
She wore an oversized jacket over her black vest, but he could tell she'd been through hell too. There was a toughness in the way she sat, always alert, like a thread pulled too tight.
"Didn't think you were the sewing type," he said quietly.
She looked up, smirking faintly. "Didn't think you were the talking type."
Muzi sat beside her. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable — just real.
"I grew up fixing things," she added, eyes on her torn jeans. "Clothes, stolen radios, broken trust."
He chuckled. "You fix trust?"
She shrugged. "Not really. But I like to pretend."
They sat for a while, just breathing. Then she asked, "What's your story?"
Muzi hesitated. He couldn't tell her everything — not yet. Not about the system. Not about Maphanga or the ancestors whispering through his veins.
"I came from Mbabane," he said. "Needed to disappear. Ended up here."
She didn't press further. Just nodded. "People like us always have reasons."
> [Connection Level: Faint Thread → Subtle Pull]
Muzi didn't see the notification flash, but he felt it. Like something unseen between them had shifted slightly.
Maphanga's voice hummed faintly in his mind.
"Watch her, Muzi. Some threads… aren't meant to be cut."
...