Page 20 of Sins of His Wrath (Myth of Omega: Wrath #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY

T he morning sun beat relentlessly against Naya's back as they rode across the parched landscape. Neither she nor Akoro had spoken since they'd left the palace gates, the silence between them stiff and vast. His presence loomed behind her, imposing yet somehow reassuring as he guided the nnirae across rocky terrain that gradually gave way to flat, barren plains.

Naya's thoughts raced with unasked questions. What was his plan today? Would it truly help her find the Solution, or was it another distraction, another way to justify his hatred toward her people? The tension between them had shifted since last night—not dissolved, but charged.

When the nnirae crested a small ridge, a glimpse of their destination came into view. Another village lay in ruins before them, similar to the one they'd visited yesterday. Broken stone walls still stood in defiant fragments, and unlike yesterday's site, occasional pieces of cloth fluttered from collapsed beams, faded but not yet completely decomposed by the elements.

Akoro brought the nnirae to a halt at the village's edge. His touch was firm but careful as he helped her dismount, placing her close to him. Though the heat of the day had barely begun to build, sweat already beaded along his brow, trailing down the strong column of his neck.

"What is this place?" Naya asked, breaking the hours-long silence between them.

Akoro's gaze swept across the ruins, a haunting look seeping into his face. "This was Nshaar. A farming settlement." His voice dropped lower. "I grew up here."

Naya turned to him, unable to hide her surprise. "Here? But it looks as devastated as the village we saw yesterday." Her eyes roamed over the destruction. "How could you have spent time in a place that was already destroyed?"

"It wasn't always like this." Akoro starting walking, carefully guiding her around a fallen beam. "When I was growing up, this was a functioning village. Struggling, yes, but alive."

Naya followed him, careful to match her footsteps to his as they navigated the treacherous path. "I don't understand. Yesterday's village was destroyed generations ago, you said. This looks just as old."

Akoro paused beside a partially standing wall, his large hand bracing against the weathered stone. "There were two waves of destruction." He turned to look at her, his expression grave. "The first caused by my ancestors' greed, as I told you yesterday. It devastated the region, but some places, like Onn Kkulma and outlying villages like this one, managed to partially recover. Life continued, difficult but possible."

"And the second wave?" she asked, sensing where this was heading.

"The second wave came just before I took the throne. It destroyed what remained of Onn Kkulma, where the Sy dynasty had begun to regroup, to rebuild." His expression hardened. "The second destruction happened when someone from your land removed the last remaining Sy magic artifacts. After that, it was discovered that the initial device that had caused the first wave had been interfered with."

Naya kept herself steady. "My land? You're certain?"

"Yes." The word cut through the air between them. "After the second wave, when the last artifacts were taken, the remaining magical infrastructure collapsed entirely. The Sy Dynasty was left with nothing. This village, which had been recovering, was reduced to what you see now."

Naya turned, taking in the devastation. "How can you be sure it was someone from my land? You've never visited the Lox Empire before me."

"They announced themselves." Akoro moved to a collapsed doorway, crouching to brush sand from a piece of carved wood. "We didn’t know they were here before the destruction, but afterward they told us where they were from.” His voice hardened. "They boasted that they were from 'the Known Lands,' a place they said Tsashokra would never be able to reach or touch."

The words sent a wave of disbelief through Naya. "The Known Lands?"

"Yes." Akoro's eyes met hers. "They spoke a different language and wore strange clothes. We had no idea what 'the Known Lands' meant until I visited your empire myself."

A heaviness settled in Naya's chest. It couldn’t be true, and yet she couldn’t say so confidently. She wanted to deny it, to argue that no one from her land would do such a thing. But history of the Known Lands is a cruel one—the conflicts, the ambitions, the lengths to which some rulers had gone to secure their power.

"It’s hard for me to believe," she said quietly. "I don’t know why anyone would do that—you’re no threat to us. There must be some mistake."

"There is no mistake," Akoro said, his voice unyielding. "I've spent years gathering proof, piecing together what happened. They said we were a threat because eventually we would learn how to come to your land. We would learn your Ancient Tongue, and we would be just ‘cruel’ to your people as we were to our people." Akoro’s eyes flashed with tightly-controlled fury. “They called us cruel!”

A coldness settled in Naya’s stomach. “What did you say? You would learn what?”

“The Ancient Tongue,” Akoro said. He watched her. “Do you know what that is? Is it from your land?”

Naya could do nothing but nod with dismay.

Akoro cursed in his language, his whole body rigid.

She looked up at him, studying the harsh lines of his face, weathered by sun and hardship and anger. "If what you say is true, then it's a terrible crime. But it still doesn't justify kidnapping me or threatening my empire. Most of our people would have known nothing about this."

Akoro said nothing for a long moment, his eyes boring into her. “If I never took you, I wouldn’t have known you were mine,” he muttered, low an guttural. “You cannot make me regret it.”

Naya sighed. His regret was the last thing she would expect. "You said you spent time in this village growing up. Why? If you're from the Sy Dynasty, why were you here and not in Onn Kkulma?"

Akoro exhaled long and heavy, as though releasing the steam of old anger. "After the first wave, the surviving Sy became obsessed with preserving what little remained of their status and wealth. They isolated themselves in what was left of the palace in Onn Kkulma."

Moving, he led her deeper into the ruins, to what might once have been a communal eating area. The stone floor was still partially intact, swept clean by wind and time.

"I was one of the younger children in the Sy family after the boundaries failed," he continued. "I grew up in a world that was collapsing around me and saw firsthand the devastation it caused. While my family huddled in the palace, trying to relive their past glory, I spent time in villages like this, helping the people rebuild their lives. Elders are precious to our culture, and it’s in places like this where you hear them talking, reminiscing. Where you can absorb what our culture truly was—not just the dynasties but the people who made it great. The artists, engineers, musicians, architects , designers, writers, laborers, teachers, farmers, crafters. His voice petered out.

Naya tried to imagine him younger, less hardened, moving among these ruins with purpose rather than bitterness. "That doesn't sound like what you told me yesterday—about how ruthless the Sy were, how they hoarded their advantages."

"My family was ruthless," Akoro said, his voice low. "When the Sy lost everything after the second destruction, instead of building back what they had with the people, they abused them. They lied and betrayed their trust. They tried to preserve their noble status at any cost, even though people were dying around them."

He kicked at a piece of broken pottery, sending it skittering across the stone. "They were in denial, refusing to accept that they must adapt to survive. Instead, they tried to strike a deal with a foreign power from the North. In exchange for safety and noble privileges, they planned to sell away what remained of Tsashokra—its land, its resources, even its survivors."

Naya's brow furrowed. "And you disagreed with this plan?"

A sound escaped him—not quite a snort, not quite a sigh, but something bitter and wounded. "Fiercely.” His brow furrowed, his whole face a picture of rage. “My parents couldn't understand why I cared about the common people at all. To them, I was a disappointment, too concerned with those they considered beneath us."

They walked in silence for a moment, the only sound the crunch of debris beneath their feet.

"Come," Akoro said suddenly. "There's something else I want to show you."

They returned to the nnirae , and soon they were riding again, this time toward a reddish smudge on the horizon. As they drew closer, the landscape transformed dramatically. The golden sand gave way to rust-colored earth that glowed under the sun's rays. Tall, jagged formations of red rock rose from the ground like the spines of some ancient beast.

"The Ushrǒ Sands," Akoro said close to her ear, his words warm against her skin.

Naya couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight. The crimson dunes seemed to shimmer, the sand itself appearing almost metallic as it caught the light. In the distance, she could see what looked like the collapsed remains of mining equipment—evidence that this place had once been industriously worked.

"It's—" She stopped, the word leaving her lips.

Akoro snorted, and could feel his smile in his words. "It is not as beautiful as you, but yes, it is a sight to see. These sands are rich in iron and rare minerals. Once, they were the source of our wealth and power."

Naya lowered her head and smiled, her inner Omega purring with glee. This handsome, dominant Alpha who smelled better than anything she knew, thought she was beautiful.

The nnirae came to a halt at the edge of the red sands. Akoro dismounted and lifted Naya down, steady and sure. She couldn’t look him in the eye, her heart quickening despite herself.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked, trying to focus.

"Because this is where I truly understood the damage my family had done," he said, kneeling to scoop up a handful of the red sand, letting it sift through his fingers. "And where I decided to change it."

Naya watched as the grains caught the light, like droplets of blood falling back to the earth. "What happened?"

"The conflict with my family grew worse," Akoro said, rising to his full height. "When I learned of their plan to sell our land to foreigners, I challenged them openly. Many were on my side. I demanded they step down and let me lead Tsashokra toward rebuilding through strength and conquest."

His swallowed, dropping his hand and staring out over the sand. "They refused, of course. I was only twelve. They saw me as too young, and a barbarian because I learned how to fight. I was traitor to my own name. The conflict split the remaining survivors into two halves." He was silent for a moment and then barked out a laugh. “I was too young to lead but not too young to be sold. That’s what they tried to do.”

"And Oppo?" Naya asked, recalling the healer's gentler demeanor. "What did he do?"

Akoro's face remained stoic, but his eyes revealed the depth of an wound. "Nothing. He did nothing. He was caught between loyalty to our parents and the reality of our situation and couldn't decide. He left me to take control, even though he is the older sibling."

The bitterness in his voice was palpable, a wound that had never fully healed. Naya stared at him, hardly believing he carried all this pain and hurt with him.

"What happened next?" she asked, her voice quiet.

Akoro's eyes met hers, dark and intense. "What do you think happened, tmot zia ?” He gestured to the red sands. “The Battle of Sy took place. Too many people wanted their cities and their culture back than wanted to keep following the Sy Dynasty. It was a bloody battle, but I made sure I killed them. I ensured that the future of Tsashokra belonged to a Sy who would keep their promise to their people, and correct the old mistakes."

The blunt admission stunned her into silence. She had known he was capable of violence, had experienced his ruthlessness firsthand. But this—the revelation that he had killed his own kin—sent a chill through her.

"All of them?" she whispered.

"All who stood against me," he replied, his voice cold. "Oppo survived, but his indecisiveness marked him. He became a shadow of what he could have been. He has a lot of guilt, and I love him, but he doesn’t carry the Sy name, or the Sy mistakes, the way I do."

Naya swallowed hard, aligning this dark truth with the man who stood before her—the same man who had held her through the night, who had comforted her through her heat.

"And so now you rule," she said lightly.

"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 the nnirae once 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?"

"That it doesn't matter anymore," he said, his voice strangely quiet. "The Lox Empire is the greatest power in your Known Lands. Taking it means taking everything."

Naya twisted in the saddle to look at him. "And if I find your Solution? If I save your land from the wild magic?"

Akoro's eyes met hers, dark and unreadable. "Then we negotiate, as I promised."

"But will you keep that promise? Or is this all just a way to keep me here, to distract me until my time runs out?"

For a long moment, he said nothing, the only sound the steady rhythm of the nnirae's hooves against the sand. Then his hand came up, fingers brushing gently against her cheek, trailing along the place where the magical wound had been.

"I gave my word," he said simply. "And unlike the Sy who came before me, I keep mine."

The touch lingered, sending heat spiraling through her core. Naya turned back around, unable to hold his gaze any longer, confused by her own reaction. She should hate him for what he planned to do to her people. She should fear him for what he'd done to his own family. Instead, she found herself drawn to him in ways that went beyond the physical pull between Alpha and Omega.

As they rode back toward Onn Kkulma, the sun high overhead, Naya's mind returned to the question Akoro had asked her. Could she truly find the Solution? Could she save both their lands from destruction? The magic here was complex, ancient, woven into the very fabric of the desert itself. And yet, something nagged at her—a connection she couldn't quite grasp, hovering just beyond her reach.

The Sy Dynasty had broken the boundaries of the Nnǐn-kka Sands, unleashing the wild magic. In her own land, the white fire remained contained within the Wastelands. There had to be a key there, a commonality she could exploit. But with only three days left before she surrendered to her heat, time was running out.

And beneath it all lay the unsettling realization that despite everything, despite knowing exactly what Akoro was capable of, she was beginning to see him differently—not a beast who had kidnapped her, but as the complex man who had been shaped by loss and grief and determination.

A man who might still destroy everything she loved.

As they traversed the golden sands back toward Onn Kkulma, the silence between them grew. The nnirae's steady gait created a rhythmic motion beneath them, the desert air shimmering with heat. Despite the blistering temperature, Naya found herself acutely aware of Akoro's presence behind her—solid, imposing, inescapable.

"What did you mean last night?" Akoro's question broke through the quiet, his voice a low rumble. "When you said you were no longer afraid to be alone."

Naya stiffened, caught off guard by the sudden question. She hadn't expected him to remember that detail from their midnight conversation. After everything he'd revealed to her today—the brutal history of his family, the weight of his choices—avoiding his question felt cowardly by comparison.

She exhaled slowly. "After Lili died, I was afraid of making decisions. Afraid of hurting anyone else." The admission caught in her throat, painful yet necessary. "I decided I needed my true mate to help me rule."

Behind her, Akoro went still, his attention deepening even without seeing his face. "Why?" The single word held a dangerous curiosity. "Why would you think that?"

Naya kept her eyes on the horizon, focusing on the heat-blurred line where sand met sky. "My parents are everything that an Alpha and Omega pairing should be." A softness crept into her voice despite herself. "They comfort each other, complete each other, support each other. Being near them, you can feel it, their connection—how they strengthen one another and strengthen the empire in return."

She felt the subtle shift in Akoro's posture, a measured restraint in his breathing.

"I thought if I found my true mate, I'd never have to face difficult choices alone," she continued, her words becoming strained. "I'd have someone who understood me completely, who could guide me when I felt lost."

Naya's mood darkened slightly as she remembered her conversation with Mama—how, in fact, her parents’ seemingly perfect relationship had begun in captivity and conflict. The revelation had shaken her foundations, but she kept that knowledge buried. Some secrets weren't hers to share.

"I thought true mates were celebrated among your people," Akoro said, his tone carefully measured. "You said it was fundamental to your society."

"It is, but my parents demonstrate a perfect pairing," Naya explained. "Not all pairs are like them, but the ones who are—they're why anyone would wait for their true mate at all. They show what's possible. It’s a beautiful, wonderful thing."

The nnirae navigated around a rocky outcropping, causing Akoro to adjust his hold on the reins. Naya tried to ignore how her body instinctively responded to his slightest movement.

"I tried desperately to find my mate," she admitted, staring at her hands. "I went to countless pairings with Alphas, spent years searching, neglecting my duties to the empire because I was convinced finding my mate would solve everything."

Akoro stiffened, a coiled tension radiating through his body. His words came out sharp, hostile. "What exactly happens in these pairings?"

Something dangerous fluttered low in Naya's stomach at his tone—a thrill at his possessiveness that she shouldn’t feel. She snorted, unable to resist a flicker of exasperation. "Nothing like what you're imagining. We sit in a small room and talk while unblocked so we can scent each other. If we're true mates, it's evident immediately."

"And how many Alphas did you 'pair' with?" Each word seemed carved from ice.

"I don't know. Dozens. Maybe more." Naya attempted indifference, despite the warmth spreading through her veins. "None of them were my mate."

"Until me." His statement fell like a stone between them.

Naya swallowed hard. "Until you," she confirmed quietly.

The admission changed something fundamental in the atmosphere surrounding them. For several long minutes, neither spoke, the only sounds the soft padding of the nnirae's feet on sand and the distant cry of a desert bird.

Akoro remained utterly silent for the remainder of their journey, his body a rigid presence behind hers. His breaths came measured and deep, as though carefully controlled. Every slight movement—the adjustment of his hand on the reins, the occasional shift of his weight—sent invisible ripples of awareness through Naya's body.

She found herself suspended in uncertainty, torn between wanting to break the heavy silence and fearing what truths might emerge if she did. The ruins of Onn Kkulma gradually materialized on the horizon, wavering in the afternoon heat.

As the nnirae carried them closer to the city, Naya couldn't shake the sensation that something significant had altered between them today—not just in what they'd revealed about their pasts, but in the unspoken current that had always flowed beneath their interactions. Something that transcended captivity, duty, and even the primal pull between Alpha and Omega.