Chapter 7: Gombwe
Uru and Sarabi led Zira through the grasslands, toward the large, gnarled baobab tree where the royal Mjuzi, Rafiki resided with Hiyori, his partner. The ancient tree stood out against the landscape, its twisting branches reaching up toward the heavens like the fingers of some forgotten deity. Beneath its canopy, the air was thick with the scent of herbs, incense, and ancient knowledge.
As they approached, Zira couldn't help but feel a strange unease. The vision still lingered, echoing in the back of her mind like a half-remembered dream. The faces of future lions—Nuka, Kiara, Kopa, and Kion—haunted her every step. And Taka… there had been something in his eyes last night, something she hadn't seen before. The image of his face, twisted into that terrifying grin, lingered in her mind, like the whisper of a fate too horrible to name.
Hiyori, one of the royal mjuzi sat perched atop a branch when they arrived. The mandrill was unlike any other Zira had ever seen. Her fur was not the customary grey of the mandrill clan but a striking, almost unnerving blonde. Her hair was tied into two spikey pigtails, a strange affectation that only added to her oddity. She wore a red jacket-like shawl, worn and tattered at the edges, giving her the appearance of an eccentric wanderer, a madwoman with wisdom few could comprehend. And yet, it was her crude mannerisms—scratching her rear, picking her nose—that truly set her apart. Zira eyed her with suspicion, but Uru and Sarabi seemed unfazed, so she held her tongue.
Rafiki, Hiyori's slightly older partner, watched from a corner, grinning mischievously as his companion went about her eccentric routine. He seemed to take great joy in her strange habits, laughing every time she scratched herself or waved a paw at someone in irritation.
"Lay down, child," Hiyori grumbled, motioning Zira toward a woven mat covered in leaves. "I need to poke and prod at you. Your head is full of smoke and clouds."
Zira did as she was told, glancing nervously at Uru and Sarabi, who stood by quietly. Taka and Mufasa had followed them, and now stood at the entrance to the tree, watching with concern. Zazu, ever the dutiful servant, hovered nearby, his beak clicking in a mixture of curiosity and worry.
"Tell me again, Uru," Hiyori said, waving her hand dismissively as she grabbed a handful of herbs from a nearby shelf. "Tell me about this Dream Weaver nonsense."
Uru, always the patient queen, began to explain once more. "Zira's heritage comes from the eastern Farlands. The Dream Weavers are an ancient clan who possess the ability to walk between dreams, to see what has not yet come to pass. They say the stars and planets guide them, showing them glimpses of fate."
Hiyori grunted, poking at Zira's side with a gnarled finger. "Yes, yes, the stars and planets. The gombwe speak through them. Spirits who walk between the worlds, guiding, tormenting, shaping. You see them, yes?"
Zira hesitated. "I… I see things," she whispered. "Things that haven't happened yet… but they're so vivid, so real."
Hiyori nodded as she ground the herbs between her hands, releasing a pungent scent into the air. "Of course, you do. The Gombwe have touched your dreams. They speak to you because you are one of theirs."
Zira blinked, confusion etched across her face. "One of theirs?"
The mandrill waved her hand dismissively again, this time smacking Sarabi on the head when she leaned in too closely. "Do not interrupt, girl! I can see your curiosity bubbling up."
Sarabi quickly stepped back, rubbing her head but remaining silent.
"The Gombwe are spirits that serve the Great Kings of the Past," Hiyori continued. "They move like shadows across the sky, drifting between the stars and the land of dreams. Sometimes they bring wisdom, other times chaos. They have a way of showing us the threads of destiny, but those threads are never simple." She grabbed a flask filled with some strange liquid and poured it into a bowl, stirring it with a carved bone. "They don't show you the future, child. They show you possibilities—shards of a dream that may never come to be, or ones that already have."
Taka, who had been silent until now, stepped forward, his voice tinged with worry. "So why are these spirits tormenting her? Why does she keep seeing such terrible things?"
Mufasa, ever the voice of reason, placed a comforting paw on Taka's shoulder. "Perhaps they aren't tormenting her, little brother. Father once told me the Gombwe show these visions to prevent what may come. They are guides, not tormentors."
Taka huffed, his frustration bubbling over. "Guides? She's suffering! How is that guidance?"
Hiyori let out a cackle, stirring the bowl with such vigor that the liquid splashed over the edges. "The boy has fire in him!" she said, grinning through her yellowed teeth. "But Mufasa's right. The Gombwe aren't here to hurt you, girl. They're trying to warn you."
Zira, lying on the mat, stared up at the thatched roof of the tree. The smell of the herbs, the strange concoctions bubbling around her, and the surreal sensation of Hiyori's words began to blur her sense of reality. The visions returned, unbidden, swirling like a storm around her mind.
She saw the stars above, constellations shifting, twisting into the faces of lions—Kion, Nuka, Kiara. They shimmered like fireflies in the night sky, dancing above the Pride Lands, only to be swallowed by a great shadow. The shadow took form, growing larger, until it became Scar, his eyes burning like embers in the darkness. Zira saw herself standing beside him, not as she was now, but older, with a cruel smile etched into her features, her heart hardened like stone.
In the distance, she saw the Pride Lands burning, the flames licking at the dried grass as the sky above roiled with storm clouds. The river below, once calm, now overflowed with muddy water, rushing toward her, pulling her down into its depths. And there, at the bottom of the river, the faces of the lost—her children, her future—stared up at her, their mouths open in silent screams.
She wanted to scream, to cry out, but the weight of the visions pressed down on her, suffocating her, trapping her in the swirling dreamscape.
"Gombwe," she whispered through clenched teeth, her body trembling.
Hiyori nodded, stirring the liquid once more before dipping her hand into it and flicking droplets over Zira. "You feel their pull, don't you? They show you what could be. The path ahead is a river, and you are standing at its edge. One step into the current, and you may be swept away into the future you fear."
Zira shuddered, her breathing shallow as she fought to remain anchored in the present.
"But," Hiyori continued, her voice lowering, "the river can be changed. A single stone can alter its course. The Gombwe show you these visions so you may know where to place that stone. Perhaps you must defy them. Or perhaps you must follow their flow. Only you can decide."
Zira blinked, the visions slowly fading as Hiyori's words grounded her. The swirling dreamscape gave way to the warmth of Taka's eyes, the concerned faces of Uru, Sarabi, and Mufasa. She was back in the tree, safe for now, but the weight of the future still pressed on her chest.
"What… what do I do?" Zira asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Hiyori shrugged, wiping her hands on her red jacket. "That's for you to figure out, girl. The Gombwe have given you visions. Now it's up to you to decide what to do with them."
Zira lay there, feeling the enormity of her burden settle in. She had seen the future—terrible, nightmarish possibilities that threatened everything she loved. But Hiyori's words echoed in her mind.
The river can be changed.
And maybe, just maybe, she wasn't doomed to become the monster she feared.
Zira lay there, her heart heavy with the weight of the future. As Hiyori's cryptic words lingered in her mind, she felt the room around her blur once more, as if the spirits of the Gombwe were not done with her yet. The lines between waking and dream began to melt, folding into one another like waves crashing against a shore.
Hiyori watched silently, her gnarled hands weaving through the air, tracing symbols that Zira couldn't comprehend. The herbs burning around her made the air thick, their scent heady, pulling Zira deeper into a strange, half-dreaming state. The Gombwe, she realized, were still speaking to her, whispering from beyond the veil.
Her vision shifted again, more vividly this time, as if she were fully immersed in another reality. She saw the Pride Lands, but they were different now—covered in an eerie twilight, the landscape darker, distorted. The grass was sharp and brittle under her paws, the sky above full of swirling, shifting stars, each one a flickering ember of life lost or yet to be.
The stars formed constellations, but they moved in patterns unfamiliar to her. Lions walked among them—ancient ancestors of the Pride Lands, their faces solemn and their eyes aglow with wisdom. They moved like smoke through the sky, some looking down at her with pity, others with silent judgment. One, in particular, caught her eye—a massive lion with a scar across his chest, his mane flowing like a cloud of black smoke. His eyes burned with intensity, and though he did not speak, Zira felt his presence ripple through her. She knew, instinctively, that this was one of the Great Kings of the past, though his name escaped her.
The lion gazed down at her, his mouth moving as if he were speaking, though no sound reached her ears. Instead, his words formed in her mind like a cold wind, carrying a message she barely understood.
"The path you walk is narrow," the Great King whispered. "But the river's course can be changed. You must choose wisely, for the fate of your pride and all that follow you rests in your paws."
Zira's heart raced. She tried to respond, but her voice seemed lost in the dreamscape. The lion only continued to watch her, his eyes deep and full of both sadness and strength. He stepped aside, and in his place, the faces of those she loved appeared in the sky.
Taka stood there, but he was different now. His eyes, once full of ambition and cunning, were hollow, reflecting the emptiness she had seen in her vision. His face was twisted in a snarl, but beneath that, there was fear—fear of what he would become, fear of the power he sought but could never truly control. The Gombwe's warnings echoed in her mind again.
"He will be great, but at what cost?"
She saw herself by his side, older and colder, the warmth of her youth gone, replaced by a hardened, cruel lioness who knew no love, only loyalty to a dark future. Her reflection was a monster she didn't recognize but feared she was destined to become.
Next, she saw her cubs—Nuka, Vitani, and Kovu, the future she had envisioned for them now muddied by the Gombwe's vision. Nuka, desperate for approval, torn apart by jealousy and neglect. Vitani, strong and fierce, but hardened by a life of war and cruelty. And Kovu, her youngest, standing in the middle, his future the most uncertain of all, as if the spirits had yet to decide his fate.
The river of time stretched before her, and Zira stood at its edge, her paws sinking into the mud. The current was fast and strong, carrying with it glimpses of what could be—a Pride Lands bathed in flame, Taka on a throne of bones, Mufasa fallen, and the royal bloodline shattered.
"You must choose, Zira." The Great King's voice returned, cold and distant. "The river flows, but you can change its course. Only you can decide what future you will walk toward. Only you can place the stone."
Zira struggled to respond, but again, her voice was lost in the dreamscape. The visions swirled around her faster now, the river's waters rising, threatening to pull her under. She saw Taka once more, his face twisted in that terrifying grin, his shadow looming large over the Pride Lands, casting all beneath him into darkness.
But then, she saw something else—something small but powerful. In the midst of the chaos, a tiny pebble fell into the river, its ripples spreading wide, altering the current. The ripple grew, turning into a wave, and as it did, the visions began to change.
She saw herself again, but this time, she was not the cruel, cold lioness of the future. She was strong, yes, but there was warmth in her eyes, love for her cubs, and loyalty to her pride. She stood beside Taka, but not in darkness. Instead, they stood together, united in a different kind of power, one that did not rely on fear or cruelty, but on the strength of their bond and the choices they made together.
Zira gasped, the dream breaking around her like glass. She sat up suddenly, the smell of Hiyori's herbs still thick in the air. Her heart was racing, her fur damp with sweat. The visions had been so vivid, so real.
But now, she knew.
The future was not set. The Gombwe had shown her what could be, but also what might be, if only she had the strength to change it.
She looked up at Hiyori, who stood there with her arms crossed, a knowing smirk on her face. "Well?" the mandrill asked, her tone as sharp as ever. "Did you find your stone?"
Zira took a deep breath, nodding slowly. "I… I think I did."
Hiyori chuckled, her laugh like the crackle of dry leaves in the wind. "Good. Then go place it, girl. The river waits for no one."
As Zira stood, she felt the weight of the vision still pressing on her, but it was different now. The fear was still there, but beneath it, something else had taken root—hope. The future wasn't written yet. The Gombwe had shown her the way, but now it was up to her to decide which path to walk.
Taka approached her, his eyes full of concern. "Zira, are you alright?"
She looked into his eyes, seeing the uncertainty there, the love he had for her, even if he didn't always know how to show it. She smiled softly, though the burden of the future still hung heavy between them. "I'm alright, Taka. I think… I think I know what we have to do."
Mufasa, who had been silent throughout the ordeal, stepped forward, his brow furrowed in thought. "The Gombwe have given you a warning, haven't they?"
Zira nodded, her voice steady now. "Yes. But they've also given me a chance to change things. We don't have to walk the path they showed me. We can be better than that."
Taka glanced at Mufasa, then back at Zira. "Whatever you saw, we'll face it together."
Zira's heart swelled with determination. The road ahead would not be easy, and the shadows of the future still loomed large. But now, she understood that the river's course could be changed, and she would do whatever it took to place that stone, to protect her pride, her future, and the ones she loved.
The Gombwe had spoken, and Zira had listened.
But now, it was time to act.
Zira took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her visions settle but no longer overwhelm her. The clarity that followed the dream's stormy currents was almost surreal. The path ahead, though fraught with uncertainty, shimmered with possibilities. The Gombwe had shown her both the horrors of what could be and the potential for something better. She was not powerless. She could steer the fate of the Pride Lands, her pride, and her loved ones.
Taka, still watching her intently, was waiting for her to speak. His eyes, filled with concern, held the spark of ambition that had always both drawn her to him and frightened her. He was her mate, but the future she had seen—his future—terrified her. She knew he wasn't the scarred, cruel lion she had seen in her vision, not yet. And if she acted quickly, maybe he never would be.
"Taka," Zira said softly, stepping closer to him. "I need to tell you everything I saw."
His brow furrowed, but he nodded, leading her away from the others for privacy. As they moved under the shade of a nearby tree, the golden sunlight dappling their fur, she felt the enormity of what she was about to say weigh on her like the river she had seen in her vision.
"The Gombwe," she began, her voice quieter now, "they showed me a future where everything we love is destroyed."
Taka's jaw tightened. "Destroyed?"
"Yes," she said, meeting his gaze. "I saw you….Scarred."
He recoiled slightly at the name, the sting of it evident in his expression. "Scarred? What do you mean?"
"I saw a version of you, twisted by ambition, by jealousy. You killed Mufasa," she whispered, the words catching in her throat. "You became something… unrecognizable. The Pride Lands were in ruin, Taka. Everything burned. You were king, but it wasn't the way we imagined. You ruled with fear. Sarabi was—" Zira choked on her words. "It was a nightmare."
Taka's eyes darkened, but Zira could see the conflict in him. The word "Scar" seemed to hang between them like a curse. He hated Mufasa's natural leadership, his father's favoritism toward his older brother. Zira knew he had his own insecurities, but she also knew he wasn't evil. Not yet.
"So, I become a monster," Taka said bitterly, looking away. "The king of ashes."
"It doesn't have to be that way," Zira said, her voice firm now. She stepped closer to him, nudging his muzzle with hers until he looked at her again. "The Gombwe showed me this future as a warning, but it's not set in stone. We can change it. You and I, together."
Taka's gaze softened, his usual arrogance slipping. "But how? How do we stop something like that? If the spirits have already shown you the future, what can we do?"
Zira shook her head. "The Gombwe don't control the future—they guide us, warn us. They've given us a choice, Taka. We can choose to be better than that. You don't have to be Scar. I don't have to become the lioness I saw."
He remained silent for a moment, clearly grappling with the gravity of her words. Then, after a tense pause, he spoke. "I don't want to be like that. I don't want to lose everything."
Zira's heart swelled with relief. "Then we won't. But we have to be careful. We have to be smart. Mufasa… Mufasa can't be our enemy. Not like this."
Taka flinched at the mention of his brother, and Zira knew she was treading on thin ice. But it was the truth. The future she had seen was born from bitterness and jealousy, from ambition twisted into something dark and poisonous. If they were to avoid that fate, Taka would have to put aside his hatred for Mufasa, or at least learn to control it.
"I know he frustrates you," Zira continued. "But fighting him, resenting him… it's what leads to that dark future. We have to find a way to work with him, not against him."
Taka's eyes flickered with a mixture of emotions—anger, resentment, but also uncertainty. "I don't know if I can do that."
Zira pressed her forehead against his, her voice low but insistent. "You can. I'll help you. We'll figure it out together."
He closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath, and Zira could feel the tension ease from him, if only slightly. It wasn't a solution, not yet, but it was a start.
As they stood there, the sun casting long shadows across the Pride Lands, Zira felt the weight of the future lift just a little. She wasn't alone in this. Taka was with her, and together, they could change the course of the river. They could place the stone.
The rest of the Pride Lands didn't need to know about the visions, not yet. This was their burden to bear, their responsibility to change. The Gombwe had shown them what could be, and now, they had to act.
--
Back in Hiyori's tree-laden lair, the mandrill watched as Zira and Taka walked away, a knowing smile creeping across her wrinkled face. She scratched her rear absentmindedly, then glanced at her partner, Rafiki, who was diligently grinding herbs at the far end of the room.
"Well, Rafiki," she muttered, her voice dry as sand, "the river may still carry them, but at least the stone is in their paws."
Rafiki looked up from his work, eyes wide with curiosity. "What do you mean my junior?"
Hiyori chuckled, shaking her head. "The future is a fickle thing. The Gombwe show us the paths, but in the end, the choice is always ours. Zira and Taka... they're walking a dangerous path. But maybe, just maybe, they'll surprise us."
Rafiki tilted his head, scratching behind his ear. "And if they don't?"
Hiyori sighed, her gaze drifting to the far horizon where the Pride Lands stretched endlessly into the distance. "Then the river will carry them where it wills. And we'll all have to live with what comes next."
The male mandrill frowned, still not entirely sure what she meant. But as he watched her turn back to her strange concoctions, he couldn't shake the feeling that something larger than any of them was at play—something even the Gombwe themselves couldn't fully control.
As Hiyori mixed her potions, Rafiki returned to his work, wondering what the future would hold for the Pride Lands and for the two lions whose fates seemed so intertwined with its destiny.
To be continued…..