Blessyway

Betrayed by blood. Stolen from her homeland. Sold across the sea.

Nyasha wa Kinywa, daughter of Chief Kinywa wa Kobia, once danced beneath the sacred mountain as the pride of her people. But her stepmother’s jealousy delivers her into the hands of slavers, tearing her from the land she loves.

A mighty storm shatters the ship meant to carry her to chains. Nyasha survives — only to be swept into the heart of a foreign empire. There, in the Dragon Emperor’s palace, she is offered as tribute to the imperial harem.

But Nyasha is no ordinary concubine. She refuses to beg for favor. She refuses to break under the weight of schemes and cruelty. She speaks of her home — of warriors, chiefs, and the power of Kiini Kiro — and with every word, she draws the emperor’s heart closer.

When jealous consorts accuse her of witchery, Nyasha is cast into the cold palace. Forgotten. Despised. Until the truth emerges: she carries the emperor’s heir — a child long thought impossible.

TOUGH EBONY:The Queen from beyond the sea

The chamber fell silent after Nyasha spoke.

Li Wei, the Dragon Emperor, leaned forward in his golden chair, eyes narrowed not in anger, but in intrigue. This woman — this stranger who stood proud and unbent before him — spoke in a tongue none around him knew. Yet her posture, her gaze, her refusal to kneel… they spoke louder than any translation.

> "She does not fear me," he thought. "She does not grovel like the others."

He raised a hand. The attendants froze. The guards stepped back.

And so, for the first time, Nyasha stood alone with the emperor of the greatest empire under heaven.

He rose from his throne and stepped toward her. His robes whispered across the polished stone floor. Gold embroidery caught the lantern light — dragons stitched in motion. But Nyasha did not move. Did not flinch.

She met his gaze with eyes full of earth, fire, and the mountain skies of home.

She tilted her head slightly, then placed a hand over her chest.

"Nyasha wa Kinywa. Daughter of Chief Kinywa wa Kobia. I do not come from your world — but I do not come in shame."

He did not understand her words — not yet — but her voice was like a song wrapped in iron. So he gestured for her to sit on the cushioned dais near the window.

And then, with only the stars as witnesses, Nyasha began to speak.

She spoke of her homeland — not in broken attempts at his language, but with her whole being. Her hands painted the plains of Meru, her voice shaped the wind over Kirimaara, her eyes shone as she spoke of elders who danced with rain, of warriors who hunted lions not for sport, but for protection.

"In my land, when a woman stands, she does not stand behind a man. She stands beside him. Or above him, if she must."

Li Wei listened. At first in confusion. Then in silence. Then in awe.

> "She was a gift," he thought, "but not from men. The sea itself sent her to me."

Time slipped away. By the time she finished speaking, the moon had shifted. The lanterns burned low.

Still, Nyasha had not begged for favor. Had not once asked for mercy or power. She simply spoke, as one who knew her worth.

"Tomorrow, I will have a translator brought to you. I want to understand every word."

And for a brief moment, as his gaze lingered on her — her poise, her quiet strength — he felt something stir that had not stirred in years.

Outside, the palace slept. But inside, something had awakened.

The Emperor’s Gaze