haka Zulu narrows his eyes and surveys the expanse of The Great Divide. The pristine, marble and stone plateaus are empty of the citizenship he has grown accustomed.
With the suns of the Waking Eye bearing down on him, both cast a light so bright his own shadow has escaped him.
Shaka clutches the iklwa in his hand and raises a leather shield with the other. A thousand voices chanting his name overcomes the metropolis.
Taking one step forward and then another, each quicker than the last, Shaka Zulu begins to run.
From the other side, Galan, Sixth Conscience and Champion of The Great Divide takes aim with a finger at the mass of a thousand black robed acolytes storming towards them.
Galan himself grits his teeth and begins a slow jog, and with each step, comes of stride, and charges headlong towards the wave.
Behind him, the heralds of the First Conscience follow in his footsteps, in pursuit of victory for the glory of the one who birthed them.