Kudyara mbeu yoruvengo. He remembered what his last oath bearer told him. A time too long ago, in Zimbabwe, looking to keep his troupe in one piece after the slave trade had raided not just humans, but the supernatural. An old man, hair turned white and skin as leathery as a newly skinned hide. “You will only learn, a student and master, mutakuri. Slave to the past.”
Atlas Diem











