Page 85 of Sins of His Wrath

"Yes." Akoro's gaze swept over the red sands, the devastation beyond. "Determined to rebuild Tsashokra by any means necessary, including taking back what was stolen from us. The land, the resources... the future that should have been ours."

Understanding dawned on Naya with terrible clarity. "That's why you want my empire. Not just for revenge, but because you believe it's what your people deserve after everything they've lost."

Akoro's eyes returned to hers, burning with an intensity that made her skin prickle with awareness. "Isn’t that justice? Your people took the last of what we had. Now I will take what you have in return."

Naya shook her head, her throat tight. "But the people of the Lox Empire now—they had nothing to do with this. Most wouldn't even know this history."

"Neither did the people of Tsashokra deserve what happened to them," Akoro said. "Yet they suffered all the same."

They stood facing each other, the red sand swirling around their ankles, the weight of centuries of pain and destruction between them. In that moment, Naya could see it all—the depth of his anger, the vastness of his ambition, and beneath it all, the wounded boy who had watched his world collapse.

"There must be another way," she said softly. "Something besides more destruction, more suffering."

A flicker of something—uncertainty, perhaps, or a deeper emotion she couldn't name—crossed Akoro's face. For a heartbeat, the hard mask of the conqueror slipped, revealing something more vulnerable beneath.

Then it was gone, replaced by the impenetrable resolve she knew too well.

"You still don't understand, Naya," he said, his voice low and rough. "This isn't about suffering. It's about survival. My people cannot continue as we are. The wild magic grows stronger, our resources dwindle, and the memories of what we once were fade with each passing generation."

He stepped closer to her, so near that the space between them seemed to vanish, his scent—rich earth and musk—enveloping her.

"You asked me last night to tell you everything you want to know," he said. "Now I'm asking you: after everything I've shown you, after everything you've learned, do you still believe you can find the Solution? Do you still believe you can save this land?"

The question hung suspended between them, heavy with implication. Naya looked up at him, searching his face for some sign that he truly wanted her to succeed. The truth was, she didn't know if she could find the Solution. The magic here was more complex, more deeply woven into the land itself than in her land. But to admit defeat would mean condemning her people to invasion, her empire to conquest.

"I have to try," she said finally. "It's the only way to stop this cycle of destruction."

Akoro studied her, his expression unreadable. "You are stubborn," he said, but there was no heat in the words. "Like your father."

"You've never met my father," Naya pointed out.

"No. But I've heard enough about Emperor Drocco to know that stubbornness runs in your blood." A brief, somber acknowledgment softened his features. "It's why you survived when others would have broken."

The unexpected compliment warmed something in her chest. "Was that almost praise, Akoro?"

His expression remained serious, though a subtle shift in his posture betrayed a momentary easing of his guard. "Don't mistake honesty for praise, princess. You are more formidable that anyone I know,tmot zia," he said, but the sharpness was gone from his voice.

A strange weight settled between them—not tension exactly, but something awaiting resolution, a current running beneath their words that neither acknowledged—circling something profound, drawing closer with each exchange but never quite touching it.

"We should return," Akoro said abruptly. "The day is getting hotter, and you need to continue your research."

Naya nodded, trying to ignore the strange disappointment that filled her. As Akoro helped her onto thenniraeonce more, his movements efficient yet careful, she couldn't help but wonder what else lay buried beneath his hardened exterior—what else he kept hidden, what wounds still festered beneath the surface.

They rode in silence for a time, the crimson landscape gradually giving way to golden sand once more. Naya's thoughts were consumed with everything she'd learned—not just about the history of Akoro's land, but about the man himself. A man who had killed his own family to save his people. A man consumed by vengeance, yet capable of gentleness. A man who had called her by a name that clearly meant more than she understood, even as he threatened everything she held dear.

"There's something I don't understand," she said finally, breaking the silence.

"Only one thing?" Akoro's voice held a hint of dry sarcasm.

Naya ignored the comment. "You said the people who took your family's remaining artifacts were from my land, from the Known Lands. But you never said who they were exactly, or which country they came from."

Akoro's posture shifted subtly behind her. "That's because I don't know. The accounts from that time are... fragmented. Those who witnessed it described them as pale-skinned with hair like sand, speaking a language unlike any they'd heard before."

Naya frowned. "That could describe people from any number of places in the Known Lands."

"Yes," Akoro agreed. "Which is why I needed to infiltrate your empire, to learn which land was responsible." His voice deepened. "Until I met you."

A chill ran down Naya's spine despite the desert heat. "And what did meeting me tell you?"

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