#Ashford Arms dining experience

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[blood-darkened-moon]

Umbrella Pharmaceuticals - Chapter 13

The cortege was moving along a narrow street in Alnwick. A leaden drizzle pattered on the polished stone, composing small puddles that splashed as they were stepped on by the mortuary figures in the entourage. The hushed pace of the crowd was punctuated by the slowing speed of the hearse. A woman in the middle of her life and a young man led the entourage. Both embraced each other tightly. They wept, but refrained from breaking the uniform feeling of grief they shared with the attendants. No one uttered a word as they marched from the cathedral to the local cemetery, where the family mausoleum awaited. In it, a new niche had been opened with Edward Ashford's name engraved on the epitaph.

The woman, a widow, remained firm in her composure despite the immense pain of having lost her loved one. Her son, on the other hand, walked clinging to his mother's arm like a sleepwalker. His eyes, though they seemed to observe the shapes of his surroundings, focused on nothing. For those eyes had seen death. They had seen agony. They had seen sickness.

It happened three weeks ago. He traveled to Bonn, Federal Republic of Germany, where the executive headquarters of Umbrella Pharmaceuticals was located. He went because his father was to supervise an experiment with the Progenitor virus. He stayed in a hotel for a week. On the fifth day, two nights before returning to England, Alexander received a call. An accident in one of the laboratories. In the lab used by his father.

Alexander ran.

Once inside the facility, he was cut off by a host of human creatures in protective suits. They led him to a security room, where he remained alone until Oswell E. Spencer appeared on the scene. Spencer told him: your father has been infected with the Progenitor virus. Alexander froze. Spencer left him alone again. He kept crying and beating himself up until an individual he did not remember escorted him to the hospital where Edward Ashford had been admitted.

He was allowed into the room. His father was hiding behind an opaque translucent plastic screen. The beeping of machines sounded spaced out and arrhythmic. Alexander peered through a transparent slit in the plastic.

His father was in agony.

Blackened veins on grayish skin. Cadaverous features. Bloodshot eyes. Gasping for breath.

He was not her father.

Spencer took it upon himself to tell Elizabeth and the rest of the family the fateful news. That night, listening to his mother's screams over the phone, he suddenly thought about slitting his wrists. He didn't know why. It was an instant, irrational reaction, born of a deleterious feeling of guilt and, above all, fear.

He came to his senses in time to say goodbye to his father. He knew that the man lying on the stretcher was not his father. His father was the radiant, shining man who had left the hotel through the front door, promising his son that they would dine in a tavern that night. That thing was not his father, but a being pretending to be his father.

His father had left the hotel, never to return.

The thing on the stretcher expired. For safety's sake, the body was cremated. What the hearse was carrying was an empty coffin.

Finally, it was deposited in its place. A marble slab sealed the opening.

And there, cornered by the graves of his ancestors, the son swore on his knees before his father.

Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator

Umbrella Pharmaceuticals - Chapter 13

El cortejo avanzaba por una estrecha calle de Alnwick. Una plúmbea llovizna repiqueteaba sobre la piedra pulida, componiendo pequeños charcos que salpicaban al ser pisados por las mortuorias figuras del séquito. El silente paso de la multitud era marcado por la ralentizada velocidad del coche fúnebre. Una mujer en la medianía de su vida y un hombre joven encabezaban el séquito. Ambos se abrazaban con fuerza. Lloraban, mas se abstenían de romper con el uniforme sentimiento de queda pesadumbre que compartían con los asistentes. Nadie articuló palabra desde que marcharon de la catedral al cementerio local, donde aguardaba el mausoleo familiar. En él, un nuevo nicho había sido abierto con el nombre de Edward Ashford grabado en el epitafio.

La mujer, viuda, se mantenía firme en su compostura pese al inmenso dolor de haber perdido a su querido. Su hijo, por el contrario, caminaba aferrado al brazo de su madre como un sonámbulo. Sus ojos, aunque parecían observar las formas de su entorno, no enfocaban nada. Porque esos ojos habían visto la muerte. Habían visto la agonía. Habían visto la enfermedad.

Ocurrió hace tres semanas. Viajaron a Bonn, República Federal de Alemania, donde se situaba la sede ejecutiva de Umbrella Pharmaceuticals. Fueron porque su padre debía supervisar un experimento con el virus Progenitor. Se alojaron en un hotel por una semana. Durante el quinto día, a dos noches de regresar a Inglaterra, Alexander recibió una llamada. Un accidente en uno de los laboratorios. En el laboratorio utilizado por su padre.

Alexander corrió.

Una vez dentro de las instalaciones, un montón de criaturas humanas ataviadas con trajes de protección le cortaron el paso. Lo condujeron a una sala de seguridad, donde permaneció solo hasta que Oswell E. Spencer se personó en el lugar. Spencer le dijo: tu padre se ha infectado con el virus Progenitor. Alexander se congeló. Spencer lo dejó de nuevo solo. No paró de llorar y de golpearse a sí mismo hasta que un individuo que no recordaba lo escoltó hasta el hospital donde Edward Ashford había sido ingresado.

Le permitieron entrar en la habitación. Su padre se ocultaba detrás de una opaca pantalla de plástico translucido. El pitido de las máquinas sonaba espaciado y arrítmico. Alexander ojeó a través de una transparente rendija en el plástico.

Su padre agonizaba.

Venas ennegrecidas sobre piel grisácea. Facciones cadavéricas. Ojos inyectados en sangre. Respiración entrecortada.

No era su padre.

Spencer se encargó de contar la fatídica noticia a Elizabeth y al resto de la familia. Esa noche, escuchando los gritos de su madre a través del teléfono, repentinamente pensó en cortarse las venas. No sabía por qué. Fue una reacción instantánea, irracional, nacida de un deletéreo sentimiento de culpa y, ante todo, de miedo.

Recuperó el sentido a tiempo para despedirse de su padre. Él sabía que aquello que yacía tumbado sobre la camilla no era su padre. Su padre era el hombre radiante y brillante que se había marchado del hotel por la puerta principal, prometiéndole a su hijo que esa noche cenarían en una taberna. Aquella cosa no era su padre, sino un ser que fingía ser su padre.

Su padre se había marchado del hotel para nunca regresar.

La cosa sobre la camilla expiró. Por seguridad, el cuerpo fue incinerado. Lo que el coche fúnebre transportaba era un ataúd vacío.

Finalmente, este fue depositado en su sitio. Una placa de mármol selló la abertura.

Y allí, acorralado por las tumbas de sus ancestros, el hijo juró de rodillas ante su padre.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 4 Chapter 50″

Masterlist HERE.

"New birth running Running through my veins Looks like that clear day finally came Feeling high, aw

Ooh So, so satisfied, this must be Must be all there is 'Cause only love brings With it joy and tears"

Ashford & Simpson – "So So Satisfied"

"Lower your head Sweet Pea… that's my girl… lower… now sweep your feet. There ya go! You got it now!"

Erik stood back from his crouched position on the palace gymnasium floor as his oldest daughter practiced the new moves he taught her. Riki and Joba watched him work with their sister while sitting cross-legged around them, and his son itched to jump in and show off what he remembered from their last session before they moved away from him.

Yani brought the children for a family breakfast as they waited for Umama and Baba Z to return with Grandpop. The palace head chef prepared an elaborate meal for all of them, and Erik fought from touching Yani the moment he saw her step into the dining room. She wore an eggshell white drop waist dress that matched the white of all the outfits everyone else had on to honor the dead returning home. He nodded to her when the children ran to him with excited energy wearing their workout clothes, but he did his best to not stare at her so much. She dyed her hair platinum and her dark eyes and thick dark eyebrows gave her a hauntingly beautiful look. The energy around her was light and whatever visible anger she had toward him when she left the palace had disappeared. Perhaps the somber occasion made her neutral toward him out of respect for the rest of the family.

"My turn! My turn!" Riki shouted, jumping into the middle and holding his hands in a defensive position.

Erik tested Riki's skills and helped him practice round kicks and more controlled swaying motions. Riki pulled Joba up to face Erik, and his youngest daughter, having more experience with the art form, showed her father how much she had improved with his teachings. Joba had better balance and smoother transitions with her flow, while her little face held deep concentration. Erik helped her coordinate her hands and feet to move against Riki. The two children faced off together as he guided Sydette to do a proper handstand.

"Hold it longer… twenty more seconds Sweet Pea… now bring your legs down slowly… go into your next move…" Erik said.

Sydette did a shaky cartwheel and slid into a wobbly half split.

"Good job! Getting better Sweet Pea!" he encouraged.

"N'Jadaka, it is time for the children to get ready," Ramonda said, stepping into the gym.

"Go on," Erik said.

His children ran to the Queen Mother to go bathe and change out of their gym clothes. Erik went to his own suite to shower and change into royal mourning robes. He washed with a handmade gel filled with dried herbs and flowers. The odor of the mixture reminded him of something his Nana Jean used to make in Oakland when he or his mother, Califia, weren't feeling well. He used another herbal mixture to rinse himself off and air-dried his body. After rubbing fresh hair oil on his locs and thicker beard growth, Erik looked at his nude reflection in a full-length changing mirror. His keloid scars were shiny brutal reminders of his past and what it took to arrive in the country he would soon rule. Touching his chest all over, he flexed his pecs and arm muscles before spraying a subtle mist of cologne all over his body that gave him a fresh, crisp scent.

His mourning clothing consisted of white drop crotch pants with a long white linen V-neck shirt that hung with tied fringe knots at the bottom. He placed his golden jaguar necklace around his neck and wondered why he felt so calm, preparing to not only greet his grandfather but to receive his deceased parents, too. After N'Jobu and Califia had been buried, Erik never went to visit their gravesites. For so long as a child, he had denied the existence of a cemetery as their final resting place. In his mind, they were beyond death. They were never really gone as long as he held onto that belief. But now he was going to have to face the truth.

Taking a deep breath, he shook out his arms and sought out his private bar in the living room. He poured a large glass of plum liquor and gulped it down, closing his eyes as the drink warmed his throat. A knock at his door brought him out of his reverie. He answered.

T'Challa stood at his door draped in cloud white linens. His face was decorated with white dots across his forehead and along his cheeks and chin. He held a small jar and paintbrush in his hand.

"I have come to help you with this," T'Challa said, holding up the jar filled with white liquid.

Erik stood aside and T'Challa walked into his home.

"Out there," Erik said, pointing to the balcony.

T'Challa followed him outside and Erik took a seat, gazing out at the river. His cousin set to work painting his face with care, the cool paint drying quickly. It took about ten minutes to complete the task.

"Look," T'Challa said.

Erik stood with his eyes fixed on the horizon. Over a dozen quad stingers escorted a wide half cruiser in the distance. All the aircraft looked like small dots so far away, but they would loom large soon enough. A shudder rippled through his chest and he blew out a gust of nervous breath. T'Challa patted his arm.

"Come," T'Challa said.

"Wait," Erik said, the soft hesitation in his voice making T'Challa look at the approaching spectacle again.

A mixture of fear, sorrow, anger, and hopelessness washed over him and he gripped the railing of his balcony to steady himself.

"I'm not ready," Erik said.

The onset of a panic attack squeezed his midsection and his breathing became erratic. He gasped for air and fought the numbness that crept up his right arm.

"You are ready, N'Jadaka," T'Challa said.

Erik shook his head, but T'Challa clasped his right hand.

"N'Jobu meant everything to me," T'Challa said. "He was my father before my own could accept me. When my mother died, I grew up knowing my father resented me for the first three years of my life. Uncle N'Jobu stood in the gap for me to make sure I knew that I was loved. He became my father figure until my own Baba could open his heart to me. I worshipped my father once he embraced me, but I am not afraid to say out loud that Uncle N'Jobu loved me more. You will probably never forgive my father for what he did to yours. I still haven't come to terms with it myself, and I am very sorry that you have carried so much hate in your heart for so long, N'Jadaka. Prince N'Jobu was truly loved by his people and we have missed him so much. I hope that you and I will not repeat the mistakes of our fathers. They were so close once. Before my mother passed. We cannot change the past, cousin, but we can make the future we want to see by communicating together. Working as a family. It hurts me to see that ship coming with what's inside of it. But I am grateful to stand here with you and welcome your father and mother home."

Erik cleared his throat and ran his tongue across his slugs.

"He told me so many stories about you," Erik said.

T'Challa grinned.

"I even bought you this little secret decoder toy I thought we could play with together. Y'know, send each other messages… run around here being silly," Erik said.

"You still have it?" T'Challa asked.

"Nah man, that thing been lost. Packed up somewhere and forgotten."

"It would have been nice to play with you here in the palace."

"You have some kids one day, and our children can do that," Erik said.

"That would be a sight to see," T'Challa said.

Erik bowed his head and let out another nervous exhale. The ships flew closer.

T'Challa gently gripped his arm and led him out of the suite and onto the elevator. Noxolo stood next to Erik, and she gave him a pleasant smile. He had to keep exhaling rapidly and shook his hands all the way down to the first floor.

Stepping out of the elevator, the rest of his family greeted him along with extended Wakandan kin. Cousins, aunts, and uncles from Baba Z's family and the same for Umama's side, surrounded the immediate family. The Council of Elders joined them, along with military leaders who had worked with his father. Noxolo's grandmother, Captan Yoneli, was there along with the former Airman Sizani who followed Erik all the way to M.I.T. just to look after him. There were so many people there and their numbers strengthened Erik. A large Wakandan drumline stood to the side, flanked by spiritual elders who carried large bronze swinging incense burners brought down from the Temple of Bast on Mount Ezulwini. Five of the dozen drummers Erik recognized as his older cousin Sekani, his father's favorite relative, and also his father's four best friends Jax, Odwa, Paki, and Chisulo. All five of the men were tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome, their eyes shining with pride at being asked to drum the homecoming march for the royal family.

Erik's eyes swept to his children, and they watched him with bright eyes standing next to their mothers. Disa and Yani were near one another with solemn expressions, each watching his face to read his mood. Yani gave him a slight head nod to encourage him to hold it together. Disa had her hair and part of her face covered in a delicate white muslin scarf, but he glimpsed the worried look in her eyes. She gave him a weak smile, and he looked away quickly, willing his body to relax. Shuri stood next to her mother and Queen Ramonda approached him as the head of the gathering. Her white ischolo crown became the beacon he needed to focus on gathering himself.

"It is time… at last," Ramonda said.

Erik glanced around as his panic fully set in. Elder Zinzi stepped forward and reached for his hand.

"We stand with you, Prince N'Jadaka," Zinzi said.

Erik took her hand and she guided him to stand next to Ramonda. He clasped Zinzi's hand tighter, and they all headed to the far end of the palace. Flanked by all the Dora Milaje, the family stepped out into the bright Wakandan sun.

They walked through the back gate of the East palace that led into the royal garden where there was enough open space for the giant half cruiser to land. The royal family didn't want to bring the ship onto the Talon Port. There were already too many news reporters and photographers surrounding the front of the double palace trying to capture images of the family and his parents' coffins. He glanced over his shoulder and looked at his children as they walked out of the garden's tall red stone gate. Sydette sprinted toward him, followed by Riki and Joba. Erik placed them next to him and Elder Zinzi. Their painted faces matched his, and he put on a brave face for them even as his body trembled. Sydette latched onto his hand.

"Look how big it is, Baba!" Sydette said, pointing up at the half cruiser.

It floated down like it was a butterfly landing on a flower. The quad stingers stayed in the sky for protection and to keep news drones away. They all waited patiently for the half cruiser to settle its landing gear, the weight of the ship locking in place vibrating under their feet. A ramp slid down and the ship opened. Erik heard Ramonda murmur under her breath, "Bast, be with us."

The silence of nearly one hundred Udaku family members waiting was louder than Erik's heartbeat thudding in his chest. The billowing white dress of Umama emerging caught his eye first. She held onto Dante's left hand as Baba Z held on to his paternal grandfather's right hand. All three were dressed in silky white cotton and the Wakandan sun gave them a dreamy look as they gazed upon the family waiting for them.

"Grandpop!"

Sweet Pea dashed away from Erik's side with her siblings racing in the rear. Dante halted his steps down the ramp and held out his arms for his great-grandchildren. Erik took a step forward as his grandfather lifted Sydette up first. The momentum of the children nearly knocked him off balance, and Baba Z had to help them all down the ramp before Dante could hug each of the little ones without falling over. Joba had her arms wrapped around her Grandpop's waist before he finally looked toward the palace again and saw Erik.

Dante held out his arms, and Erik had never run so fast in his life. Tears blinded his eyes and his grandfather's blurry image still held true in front of him.

"There he is! There's my JaJa!" Dante shouted.

Erik smothered the old man with his arms and could not let him go.

"God is good… God is so good…" Dante whispered in Erik's ear.

The pain that nestled in Erik's chest eased, and the panic attack that tried to lay him flat fell away.

"I missed you, old man. I won't ever leave your side again!" Erik said.

His voice broke and even up close, he still couldn't see his grandfather's face through his tears. Dante wiped each thick, salty tear drop away until Erik could finally see those gentle, light brown eyes that witnessed so much pain in a lifetime.

"Ah, you can see me now," Dante said.

Erik pressed his forehead against Dante's.

"Lord Jesus, I forgot how tall you were, boy!" Dante teased.

He stroked Erik's locs and pushed him back so he could look at his entire body. His wrinkled fingers shook and touched Erik from head to toe, making sure he wasn't an illusion. Dante glanced down at his great-grandchildren.

"You see what you made?" Dante said, admiring the children.

Erik nodded.

"I'm here to stay and I'll make sure you don't do nothin' foolish again. Ya heard me, boy? I will live out my life to see you enjoy your family," Dante said, patting Erik's shoulders.

Dante kissed Erik's cheek, then he reached for Umama and Baba Z's hand and pulled them closer.

"No more pain. We are one family now. The past is the past," Dante said.

Umama touched Erik's face, and he kissed the inside of her palms. He took a moment to hug Baba Z and Dante again, but then the startling sounds of drums and hand instruments played loud and strong. But the sound didn't come from behind Erik as expected. It emanated from within the half cruiser.

The powerful voice of a man rang out, surrounding them. Erik and his children turned to face the ship and within seconds, Joba dropped her little body lower to the ground and swayed to the sounds of a berimbau. Portuguese words gusted over him like a strong wind as his mind translated what he heard. Besouro's voice.

The Beetle sang to him.

"I am Ogum's son! There is no day nor hour. Give me protection in this game now!"

Draped in all white from head to toe, Besouro stepped off of the ship shaking his shaggy long salt and pepper locs with Marisol and Uncle Bakari next to him, dressed the same and playing their berimbaus too. Erik couldn't take his eyes off Marisol's attire. A grin creased his lips. Dressed as an ialorixá, a priestess, her hair was wrapped up in white with a long white caftan covering her body. Her eyes were on fire as she played her berimbau and sang to him with the voice of authority.

"If the game doesn't catch, you can't be knocked down. I am a slave descendent. I have my body closed!" she sang out.

Uncle Bakari added his voice, his eyes focused on Erik's face behind his thick glasses.

"Ogum's son can't be beaten! I am warrior. I came to battle. Ogum's son can't be beaten!"

As Uncle Bakari sang, Aunt Serah and Uncle Addae stepped off the ship, along with Aunt Shavonne, Aunt Soliel, and Aunt Aunjanue. They were joined by Mãe and Uncle Andres, who played an atabaque drum along with… Walter and Erik's other best friend, Shawn. Every time Erik thought his heart couldn't take more surprises, another relative stepped out of the ship. Aunt Rolitia and his cousin Nevaeh dressed in their traditional Yurok attire and shaking rattan and sea shell percussive rattlers to add texture to the capoeira sounds, joined the reunion. His mother's two brothers, Uncle A.J. And Uncle Brandon grinned at him when they emerged. He clapped his hands with joy when his older cousin Junie stepped off the ship with a bewildered expression of shock and love in his eyes. Erik didn't have enough arms or lips to hug and kiss everyone.

The music roared over him, reminding Erik that he was the son of Ogum and so much more. He started swaying to the music as Marisol and Besouro targeted the lyrics to his chest, puffing him up and lifting his spirits. His baby daughter Joba danced next to him. She was familiar with the song and Erik clapped his hands, watching her sing about Ogum, encouraging her to cartwheel and show off her skills. He nudged Sydette and Riki to join in and they caught the magic that the music brought out in everyone, making them want to dance and sing, too.

Shocked cries from Yani, Disa, and Twyla rose behind him as the three women ran forward when some of their own family members stepped from the ship. Disa's mother and brothers hugged her, while Yani's Aunt Leona and her parents loved up on her after a lengthy absence.

Erik turned to Umama as his heart nearly burst in his chest.

"Is this why it took you so long to come back?" he asked.

Umama wiped his cheeks with warm fingers.

"We wanted all of your family here with you. Baba Z made all the arrangements. We had to take a half cruiser to accommodate everyone, grandson," Umama said.

The berimbaus reached a crescendo, and Erik swayed his body in time to the music, letting his people see he was alive and well. His children copied his moves in front of Marisol, who sang above the powerful percussive sounds. Her crystal-clear voice let Wakanda know the diaspora had arrived. The family surrounded Erik, watching him flip and spin, taking in their love, their energy, and their spirit until he jumped in front of his grandfather again. Dante pressed his hands against Erik's and they danced together inside the circle until Leona broke the formation and reached for his body and hugged him. Yani's aunt clutched his arms and stared at his face. She had fluffed out her hair for him to look fancy. He touched her gray curls and kissed her cheek.

"Is it really you?" Leona said with a hushed tone of disbelief.

"It's me, Auntie," he said, as she touched his face with both hands.

More love and hugs flowed to him. He wanted to touch and be touched a thousand times over, and everyone on his side of the family fussed over Riki and Sydette as Joba introduced them to their new family herself with pride. Erik saw how alone his youngest had been and how thrilled she was to have Riki and Sydette. She couldn't let go of her brother's hand as Riki soaked up most of the attention because he was a tiny version of Erik. Serah, Soliel, and Aunjanue could not stop crying at how the boy looked like Califia too. Uncle Bakari kept looking at Riki and shaking his head. Mãe even questioned Sydette's paternity, claiming openly that Sweet Pea acted too much like his own child to have been fathered by someone else. They enveloped Yani as one of their own.

Hugs were long, strong, and plentiful, and they would've gone on for hours crying and fussing over the children, kissing Shuri and thanking her for saving him, praising T'Challa for ignoring Erik's wishes, smothering Yani with excited love and hugs, and greeting the Udaku extended family with affection, but Umama grabbed Erik's hand and pulled him aside. Baba Z raised his hands and the Wakandan drummers took over.

Everyone split into two lines and allowed the drummers to drift toward the ship, with the spiritual elders leading the way. Marisol handed her berimbau to her grandfather Andres and joined the processional. The doors of the half cruiser widened, and Erik gripped Umama and Dante's hands. T'Challa stood next to their grandfather and took a deep breath.

Loud ululations erupted from Umama's and Ramonda's throats and the chill that fell over everyone sent a hush over Erik's side of the family. The Wakandan relatives added their ululations, summoning seven male and female dancers who greeted two Dora Milaje that traveled with Umama and Baba Z to retrieve a prince and his foreign wife.

Erik expected to see two separate coffins emerge, but instead, his father and mother were placed together inside of a giant gold and silver sarcophagus. The sight of it sent Erik spinning.

"Grandpop," Erik choked out.

"It's okay JaJa… it's okay…" Dante said.

The piercing wail of a griot halted the dancing and drumming. An elderly man with a large elephant staff carved in dark ebony wood stood in front of the ramp as N'Jobu and Califia were pushed out of the half cruiser. The griot sang out the life story of Prince N'Jobu in Wakandan and it knocked the wind out of his son. Marisol moved next to the griot and sang out Califia's capoeira song, telling the Wakandans about the Master Hammer, the woman of the Lost Tribe that their prince fell in love with.

Erik's knees buckled, and he fell to the ground, feeling like his heart had shattered and couldn't be put back together. The lifeblood in his body coursed through him, keeping him alive, but seeing them, his Mommy and Baba, wrecked him. He pounded his fists on the ground and screamed. Smashing his forehead into the hard surface of the earth, Erik screamed again, the sensation of dying yanking him down into a dark place. Dante rubbed his back and Umama stroked the top of his head as he kept screaming and rocking his body forward.

It was T'Challa who came and lifted Erik to his feet, guiding him toward the floating sarcophagus. Erik's feet didn't want to move and dragged along with his cousin's urging. He turned to look at Dante, but he glimpsed his children's fearful faces watching him. His grief frightened them. Umama and Baba Z walked beside him, along with Dante.

Once Erik reached his parents, the hitching in his chest had ceased long enough so that he could stand tall before them. He reached out and touched the top of the sarcophagus, where a carved image of his parents from an old picture they took together sat in the center.

"He loved her so much," Erik said, "And she adored him."

T'Challa nodded and admired the image. Erik rested his head on the sarcophagus, leaving smudges of white paint on his face.

"My son, you are finally home. With your beautiful wife beside you. This is not what we wanted, my baby…" Umama wailed.

Erik closed his eyes and rested his cheek on the sacred container.

"I will finish what you started, Baba. Mom, you didn't die for nothin'. I will shake up the world like you wanted to. Believe that," Erik whispered to them.

T'Challa reached out and caressed the sleek sarcophagus. His wet eyes smeared the paint on his cheeks.

"I missed you so much, Uncle N'Jobu. I am sorry for what my father did to you—"

"Nah," Erik said, shaking his head and staring at his cousin, "you ain't gotta apologize for that. That wasn't on you. All that is over and done with in their time. Let that shit go, cuz," Erik said.

T'Challa's forehead crinkled, and he gave a strained sigh of air from his lips. Closing his eyes, he let tears roll down freely. Erik watched his cousin weep for his uncle. Then he rested his hand on T'Challa's shoulder.

"Baba?"

Erik glanced down and saw Riki staring up at him and calling for his attention. He lifted his son so he could see the top of the sarcophagus. T'Challa lifted Joba and Sydette in his arms so they could observe it, too.

"These are my parents. Califia and N'Jobu. Your paternal grandparents," Erik said to all three of them.

The children looked over the image of Califia and N'Jobu and marveled at the size of the sarcophagus. Erik turned to the rest of the family.

"I am Prince N'Jadaka! Son of N'Jobu Udaku, the Golden Jaguar, and son of Califia Stevens, the Master Hammer. Make way for my parents. They have come home!" Erik shouted.

The Wakandan drummers burst into the thunderous rhythm that heralded the arrival march again. Erik held onto Riki and grasped Dante's hand to lead the royal sarcophagus into the East palace surrounded by a gauntlet of love, family, and the joyous ululations that rose to the ancestral plane for his parents to hear.

Chapter 51 HERE.

A.N.: The song Marisol, Besouro and Bakari sing is called “Filho d’Ogum” I translated parts of the song in English, but here’s the Portuguese lyrics and the song being sung:

Filho d’Ogum

Vale me Deus do céu Vale me Deus do céu Colega velho Vale me nossa senhora Vou jogar a Capoeira, Jogo de dentro e de fora Sou filho de Ogum Nem tem dia nem tem hora Que me dê protecção Nesse jogo de agora Se o jogo não apanha Nem se pode se derrubar Sou descendência de escravo Tenho o meu corpo fechado Filho de Ogum não pode apanhar Eu sou guerreiro Eu vim guerriar

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[the-ashford-arms]

Give the Gift of The Ashford Arms: Perfect for Peak District Stays and Dining

Treat someone special to a memorable experience with The Ashford Arms gift card. Ideal for enjoying cosy accommodations, delicious dining, and the charm of Ashford in the Water, this gift card is a wonderful choice for any occasion. Purchase today and give the gift of Peak District relaxation and hospitality!

[the-ashford-arms]

Experience the charm of The Ashford Arms, a premium country pub and restaurant with rooms in the Peak District. Enjoy locally sourced food, cosy rooms, and an award-winning service that makes every visit memorable. Perfect for any occasion, from a relaxed meal with family to celebrations with friends. Discover our individually styled rooms and make us your base to explore the Peak District's beauty. At The Ashford Arms, it's all about you. Visit us to sip, savour, slumber, and celebrate.

[the-ashford-arms]

Best Nightlife Activities in Ashford in the Water: Enjoy Evenings in the Peak District

Explore the best nightlife activities in Ashford in the Water. Enjoy cosy evenings at The Ashford Arms, live music at local pubs, stargazing, evening walks along the River Wye, and traditional pub games. Experience ghost walks, fine dining, and cultural events. Plan your visit and stay at The Ashford Arms for an unforgettable evening.