The royal barge of Kusha'zan, The Solar Barque of Ra's Journey, was a masterpiece of enchanted architecture. Carved from the wood of the eternal acacia and inlaid with gold and lapis lazuli, it floated not on the Nile-inspired river, but several feet above it, gliding silently on a cushion of condensed sunlight. Its great, lateen sail was woven from the hair of star-beings and caught winds that no mortal could feel. At the prow, a massive, golden figurehead of a lion-headed goddess kept watch.
On the deck, under a canopy of striped silk, Kazuyo held court. Neema stood at his right hand, her gaze scanning the riverbanks for threats. Zahra sat cross-legged on a plush rug, studying arcane patterns in a tray of black sand. Amani was near the stern, her hands trailing in the water, listening to the river spirits.
Their journey had begun. The Griots—the historian-bards of the land—were already spreading the tale of the Null-Son and the coming Sun-Bearer. Hope was a fragile seed being planted in the drought-stricken heart of the south.
But hope attracts parasites.
They were two days downriver from the capital, entering the region of Nubia's Grasp, a land of stark mesas and deep canyons, when the first attack came.
It was not from a Demon King.
The air grew cold, and the bright sun seemed to dim. From the shadow of a towering mesa, a vessel of bleached bone and tattered black sails slid into the river, blocking their path. It flew no standard, but on its deck stood figures clad in armor of obsidian and gold, their faces hidden behind masks of jackals and vultures.
"The Followers of Apep," Neema snarled, her hand going to her khopesh. "Carrion-eaters. They worship the concept of entropy and serve the Demon Kings as heralds."
The lead figure, a tall man with a high priest's headdress shaped like a coiled cobra, raised a staff of twisted ebony. His voice echoed, magically amplified, devoid of warmth.
"Kazuyo Jamal Hiroyuki. The Null-Son. You who would defy the great unraveling. The Serpent of Chaos hungers for your silence."
"Setekh," Zahra whispered, her face pale. "The High Priest of Apep. He is a master of shadow and decay. His magic does not attack the body; it attacks the soul, the memory, the very concept of one's existence."
Setekh pointed his staff at the royal barge. "Apep claims this offering!"
A wave of palpable nothingness, a void far different from Kazuyo's controlled Nullify, erupted from the bone ship. It was a nullification of meaning. Where it passed, the vibrant colors of the barge's silks faded to grey. The enchanted wood groaned as if forgetting how to float. A young deckhand screamed as he looked at his hands, his memories of his own name starting to dissolve.
This was Kazuyo's opposite in a different way. Where he created a null field of safety, a purposeful silence, this was an annihilating oblivion.
"My field cannot protect everyone from this!" Kazuyo gritted his teeth. "It's too diffuse!"
"Then we must be the spear!" Neema roared. She leapt from the barge, a golden lioness descending upon the river. She landed on the bone ship's deck, her khopesh already cleaving through a jackal-masked warrior.
Zahra rose, her hands weaving. "I will give his decay something to feed upon!" She chanted in the old tongue of the pharaohs, and the river itself rose in response. A colossal hand of water, shimmering with defensive hieroglyphs, formed and swatted at the wave of oblivion. The two forces met with a hiss, the water evaporating into grey mist, but blunting the attack.
Amani began a counter-chant, a song of names and lineages. She fought to reinforce the identities of the crew, her voice a thread of memory holding fast against the unraveling.
But Setekh was powerful. He ignored Neema's onslaught, his warriors swarming her. He focused his staff on Kazuyo.
"Your power is a pale imitation of the true void, boy," Setekh hissed. "Let me show you."
A thin, black beam shot from the staff. It didn't aim to kill. It aimed to unmake.
Kazuyo met it with his own Nullify.
The collision was silent and terrifying. Two forms of nothingness warred in the space between the ships. Kazuyo's was a clean, surgical absence. Setekh's was a cancerous, consuming void. Kazuyo felt the pressure, a psychic cold that sought to negate his will, his reason, his very soul. He was holding back the tide of cosmic indifference.
He could not erase Setekh's attack, only contain it. And he was tiring.
"He is too strong alone!" Amani cried out, her song straining.
It was Neema who changed the tide. Seeing her master in peril, she broke from the warriors she was fighting and threw her khopesh with all her might. The golden sword spun through the air, not at Setekh, but at his staff.
The priest, arrogant, simply redirected his null-beam to erase the sword.
It was the distraction Kazuyo needed. For a split second, Setekh's focus was divided.
Kazuyo pushed. He didn't try to nullify the entire beam. He focused his power to a razor's edge and sliced through the connection, severing the beam at its source.
Setekh staggered, his staff flickering. Surprise and fury radiated from him.
"You fight for a dying world, Null-Son!" he spat. "The Demon Kings rise! The Sun-Bearer will be extinguished, and you will be the final silence before the eternal night!"
With a wave of his staff, the bone ship dissolved into shadows and was gone, leaving only a chill in the air and the faint echo of mocking laughter.
The battle was over. They had held, but it was a pyrrhic victory. The barge's enchantments were weakened, several crew members were catatonic, their memories shredded, and a grim reality had settled upon them.
The Followers of Apep were not a mindless horde. They were a coordinated, intelligent enemy, and they saw Kazuyo and the coming Sun-Bearer as the primary obstacles to their apocalypse.
As Amani and Zahra tended to the wounded, Neema returned to Kazuyo's side, her fur matted with the ectoplasmic residue of the shadow warriors.
"They knew we were coming," she growled.
"They fear us," Kazuyo corrected, his eyes hard. "Setekh did not come to kill me. He came to test me. To measure my strength. The real battle is not here on the river. It is for the soul of this land."
He looked towards the south, where the second of the Twenty Demon Kings held sway—the Sphinx of Riddles, a creature that devoured not flesh, but knowledge, leaving civilizations as hollow, ignorant shells.
"Setekh serves a master," Kazuyo mused. "This was a warning. An attempt to delay us. Which means we are on the right path."
He placed a hand on Neema's shoulder, a gesture of gratitude and solidarity. He looked at Zahra, who gave him a determined nod, and at Amani, whose eyes were full of a fierce, protective light.
"They have shown us their hand," Kazuyo said, his voice regaining its calm authority. "Now, we show them ours. We do not wait for the Sun-Bearer to solve our problems. We carve a path for him. We head for the Library of Thoth. If the Sphinx seeks to starve the world of knowledge, then we will remind it what true wisdom looks like."
The Solar Barque adjusted its course, turning towards the canyons where the ancient, sand-buried library was said to lie. The journey was no longer just a quest for alliance. It was a declaration of war. The Null-Son of Kusha'zan would not be cowed by shadows. He would meet the coming sun with victories already won.