Chapter 13: Whispers of Old Brass

The capital's streets buzzed under bright, steady clouds, their light spilling over cracked cobblestones where Kente walked, boots scuffing the dust that clung to his patched tunic—tan fabric streaked with orange and blue, frayed at the edges from too many days in Old Brass. His pendant, warm against his chest, hummed quietly, a faint reminder of Zuri's grin back in the orphanage. The bead at his ribs pulsed too, Umvelina's daughter stirring inside it, her hum bending the air into soft ripples he could feel but not see.

Kente's hands fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve, nerves bubbling up as he neared Miss Wolo's quarters—a tall, rune-lit building near the spires, its black stone humming with juju power. He wiped sweat from his forehead, the bead's itch prickling where it sat, and took a deep breath. Zuri's face flashed in his mind—red eyes, cold and empty, muttering in the prison cell Prophet described, chained by Harvesters' magic. Kente's chest ached, a tight knot he couldn't untangle. Zuri had done so much for him back then, scavenging trinkets, crafting their pendants to keep them connected, even thinking the juju sealed in Kente was dangerous and trying to fix it. Now, Kente couldn't leave him locked up, not after everything.

"Hey, Kente, you sure about this?" Tamara's voice piped up behind him, shaky but curious, his shell flickering faint as crumbs fell from his tunic. "Miss Wolo's pretty strict. What if she says no?"

Chioma walked beside, her gold eyes steady, hands relaxed but ready, fingers brushing the stone wall. "She won't," she said, voice firm but quiet, like a big sister's nudge. "She's Old Brass too—deep down. She'll listen."

Kente nodded, but his stomach twisted. "I hope so," he mumbled, kicking a pebble that skittered across the cobblestones, dust puffing up behind it. "Zuri's my friend. He didn't mean to join those Harvesters—he thought he was saving me."

Prophet Mirror trailed behind, cloak rustling softly against the stone, his dark eyes scanning the spires. "She's the Priestess's daughter," he said, voice calm and low, hands still at his sides. "Her juju could unlock prison seals, but the capital's scared of Harvester ties. We need to be careful."

Kente pushed open the rune-lit door, its hum buzzing against his palm, and stepped into Miss Wolo's quarters. The room was dim, lit by flickering torches, their blue-green glow painting shadows on black stone walls etched with juju symbols. Miss Wolo stood at the far end, her lava eyes glowing molten, crescent ornament gleaming on her tunic, hair tied back with a leather band. Her volcano juju pulsed faintly, bending the air with heat.

"Kente," she said, voice steady but sharp, turning to face him. "What brings you here? You look like you've seen Old Brass's ghosts."

He swallowed, hands twisting his sleeve, the pendant's hum steady against his chest. "It's Zuri," he said, voice soft, cracking a little. "He's in prison, Miss Wolo. Locked up after the Harvesters attacked. I need your help to get him out—he's my friend, from the orphanage. He did so much for me, even tried to stop my juju because he thought it'd hurt me. But now those Harvesters twisted him, and he's suffering. Please—can you use your juju, or talk to the Priestess, to free him?"

Miss Wolo's eyes softened, lava flickering, but her stance stayed firm. "Zuri's tied to the Harvesters," she said, voice low, careful. "The capital's on edge—afraid they'll strike again. Freeing him's risky. But…" She paused, glancing at the spires through a window, their runes pulsing bright. "I'll talk to my mother, the Priestess. Her hum might sway the Sturmguards, but it'll take time. And Kaelon—he's watching. That man's obsessed with juju secrets, Old Brass's power, and Zuri's knowledge. He might move first, and that's trouble."

Kente's heart sank, but hope flickered in his chest, the bead pulsing warm. "Thanks," he whispered, voice steadying. "I'll wait—do whatever it takes. Zuri's not gone. I know it."

Chioma stepped forward, hands steady, voice firm. "We'll stand with you, Kente. Old Brass doesn't leave its own."

Tamara nodded, shell flickering brighter, hands clutching his scrap. "Yeah, we'll figure it out together."

Prophet's voice cut in, calm and low. "Kaelon's a shadow—ruthless, like a hawk with too many eyes. We need to watch him, too."

Miss Wolo nodded, her lava eyes glowing steady. "Go train. I'll reach out soon. But be ready—Harvesters hum close, and Zuri's fate might pull them all here."

Kente turned, the pendant's hum syncing with his heartbeat, the bead's warmth guiding him back into the dust. The capital's streets stretched ahead, spires looming, their runes pulsing a quiet song—tying him to Old Brass's heart, to Zuri's chains, to a battle he couldn't run from, but wouldn't face alone.