CHAPTER 16

SPIRITUAL REALM-MBALI

-Before mbali went into a seizure-

The last thing I remembered was staring at my trembling hands, slick with blood, my body wracked with pain. I saw Umkhulu placing red and black beads around my neck, muttering something about the Khumalos not appreciating me. Then Siya appeared, lifting me into his arms, and the last words I whispered were…

"I love you."

Then… darkness.

Now, I woke on a dusty road. The same red and black beads pressed against my chest. Around me, the land was rough, rural, dry—sunlight cutting through the air in streaks.

Instinctively, I knelt and let my fingers sift through the soil. It was familiar—ancient, grounding, as if it remembered me.

I stood, a slow understanding settling in.

"...eSwatini."

Where my royal ancestors rested. I had been here before, physically, but now… it felt different. Alive. Waiting. I began walking, unsure where, but unwilling to stand still. Then a small figure appeared—a child in spiritual regalia, eyes wide, urgency in every step. She grabbed my arm, and we ran.

Me: "Haibo… siyaphi manje?"

Child: "Awuphephile lana! Woza ngokhushesha!"

I didn't hesitate. Her grip was fierce, but comforting in a strange way. I followed blindly. We arrived at what looked like a cows' kraal. The child pushed the fence open, but I froze. A sharp tug at my chest—painful, relentless, like the strings of my heart were being pulled tight. I shoved it aside, focusing on each step. The moment my foot crossed into the kraal, my body seized. Every muscle went rigid. Screams pierced the air, raw and jagged, and I caught Nkanyezi's voice somewhere distant, commanding, urgent.

And then… darkness swallowed me again.

-After she went through the sezuire-

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the same dirt road.

Again.

Yhooo… hay ini… what is happening, nkosiyami?

I pushed myself up, dust falling from my clothes, and for the first time I decided to walk in the opposite direction. The air felt heavier this way, almost alive, humming under my skin.

Then I saw a figure ahead. I ran without thinking, my heart hammering in my chest.

It was Siya.

Crying.

Shit.

I reached out, desperate—but my hand passed right through him. Like he wasn't real. Like he was trapped in this strange in-between, untouchable.

Frustration burned inside me. I needed to reach him. Needed to break through—if only to let him know I was here, that I was still fighting, still present.

So I did the only thing I could think of.

I took a deep breath… and shouted his name.

"Siya!"

The sound tore through the air around me, vibrating against the dirt, echoing into the invisible space between worlds. The wind stirred suddenly, carrying my voice like it was bending toward him, trying to bridge the impossible distance.

I shouted again. And again.

Something shifted.

A faint shimmer appeared around him—like the edge of a mirror. A pulse of warmth touched my chest.

I didn't know if it was hope… or just the universe mocking me.

But I kept shouting.

Because even in this place… even between the worlds… I refused to let him feel alone.

SIYA

Mandla and I were just sitting on his car bonnet, staring at the star-lit sky. The quiet was heavy, comforting, the kind that makes you forget the world for a while.

Then… faintly… I heard it.

A whisper.

My name.

I turned, squinting into the dark hills below, but no one was there.

Me: "Do you hear that? Someone calling me?"

Mandla: "Who would be calling you… on a hill, muntu wenkosi?"

I shook my head, trying to brush it off. Probably my imagination, I told myself.

But then it came again.

Louder. Sharper.

My name.

So loud it felt like my eardrums were about to split. And… I knew the voice.

It was her.

Mbali.

My chest tightened. My heart slammed against my ribs. I jumped up instinctively. Mandla followed, panic in his eyes.

Mandla: "Yini manje? Usuyahlanya ndoda?"

Me: "No… we need to get to the hospital. Now."

Mandla didn't ask any questions. He just nodded. We jumped into the car, engines roaring to life, tires skidding slightly on the gravel as we shot off down the hill. The stars blurred above us, the wind whipping past, and my mind was already back in that hospital room, imagining her calling me… needing me. I slammed the accelerator, ignoring the fear, the doubt, the exhaustion.

All that mattered was her voice.

All that mattered was Mbali.

-

We finally pulled up at the hospital. As soon as I opened the door, I bolted out, ignoring everything—the honking cars, the nurses rushing past, the concerned glances. Mbali's voice still echoed in my ear, sharp and urgent, pulling me forward like a magnet.

I barreled into the waiting area where my family was seated, chest heaving, sweat damp on my forehead.

Me: "Upi uNyoka noNkanyezi?"

Ndlovukazi: "Sebenzisa amazwi akho… asikuzwa."

I gulped down some water, letting it slide past my throat, forcing my breathing to even out before speaking clearly.

Me: "Ngifuna uNyoka noNkanyezi."

Themba: "Nyoka went to get water, Nkanyezi went to Mbali's ward with the doctor… Uthi kwenze njani? Why do you need them?"

I opened my mouth to explain, still tapping my ear as Mbali's voice persisted, urgent and piercing. But then, as if the universe had answered me, Nkanyezi and Nyoka appeared simultaneously.

Nkanyezi: "Uyamuzwa, angithi?"

I nodded, my eyes wide. Without another word, he spread his traditional mat, motioning for me to sit.

Nyoka: "uEsihle akekho lana."

Nkanyezi: "Uyena azosi siza zikhulume noMbali."

Themba and I exchanged a glance, then back at Nkanyezi, who had already begun lighting imphepho. He placed a blue candle—he said it represented me—a yellow one for Mbali, and a pink one for Esihle. The moment the flames caught, the candles flickered violently, as if caught in a storm, though the air in the hospital remained perfectly still. And then—the voice in my ear vanished. A sharp, unearthly sound cut through the silence. I looked at Nkanyezi, my heart racing.

Nkanyezi: "Her spiritual vibrations are higher now… you won't hear her anymore."

Suddenly, Esihle stirred. Her body moved mechanically at first, then she rose onto her knees and fixed her gaze on me. My stomach dropped. I glanced at Nkanyezi, who remained calm, unshaken.

Nkanyezi: "Kuzomele ukhulume naye… njengoba ukhuluma noMbali."

My jaw dropped. How am I supposed to do that… looking at my little sister?

Themba: "Yah… no… kusazoba weird."

Mandla: "Awuthule wena."

Themba: "Sorry keh."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, and looked at Esihle.

Me: "…Mama."

Her lips moved, but the voice that came out wasn't hers. It was Mbali.

Esihle/Mbali: "Sthandwa sam… kuzomele sithole ubuhlalu obubomvu nobumnyama ningifake bone. Bese bakuyenzele ilinda ebomvu… ngizokwaze ukubuya kuwe."

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could speak, Esihle's body went limp. She collapsed gently to the mat, unconscious once again. Almost immediately, the candles extinguished, as if an unseen hand had swept across them. Nkanyezi and Nyoka exchanged a long look, full of unspoken understanding.

Themba: "Yabonake… sisazonya."

The air felt charged, thick with the weight of ancestors watching, waiting. Every instinct in me screamed that what Mbali had just said was not just a request—it was a command. And if we failed… I shivered thinking of the consequences.