Bound by ancestry - Chapter 15: Chapter 15
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The journey away from the Gate of Memory began with silence—not out of fear, but reverence. Each member of the Circle carried a seed of truth, pulsing faintly with light and warmth. They had passed a trial that was not meant to be survived, yet they walked now with their heads high and their hearts steadied. The names they had faced, the truths they had spoken—these were no longer burdens, but anchors.
For days, they traveled through the Valleys of Withering, a wide stretch of land where the trees were gnarled and the rivers flowed black. Once, it had been rich with farms and community, a hub for trade and worship. Now, it smelled of rust and salt, and strange birds circled without calling.
Uzochi explained the truth that lingered in the wind.
“When the Obiri first fell, they cursed the land, not with death, but with forgetfulness. Crops grew but had no taste. Children were born but remembered no songs. Generations passed like shadows.”
“Then this land must remember again,” said Adaeze.
They reached the center of the valley, where a tree taller than any building stretched into the heavens. Its bark was ash-grey, its roots cracked stone, and at its base was a hole leading underground. The guardians knelt in unison.
“This,” said Uzochi, “is the Root.”
Chidubem stepped forward. “What lies beneath?”
“The fire they tried to bury.”
Without waiting, Adaeze entered the hole, the spiral of her staff glowing brighter with each step. Chidubem followed. Then the others. The descent was steep, carved with the old spirals of origin, the same symbols found at the Mirror of the First Mouth.
As they reached the bottom, they saw it—a cavern lit with a fire that did not burn but shimmered. At its center sat a massive root, coiled like a serpent, covered in names etched in living flame.
Each name pulsed.
Each name breathed.
“This is the memory of the land,” said Uzochi. “Its bloodline. Its soul.”
But something stirred in the fire. A shape moved beneath the root.
A voice called out.
“You have come too late.”
The flames parted, revealing a man—or what had once been a man. His skin was scorched and flickering like an ember, his eyes hollow with gold light.
“I am Njoku. The Root Keeper. I was meant to guard the truth. But I grew tired. I let them in.”
Adaeze stepped forward. “Then help us undo what was done.”
He laughed. “The Obiri did not steal this fire. They fed it. With lies. With fear. Now it burns everything. Even the truth.”
Suddenly, the flames roared, and the root cracked. Smoke filled the cavern. Whispers curled around them—doubt, betrayal, grief. Visions flooded their minds: the Circle turning on each other, the guardians breaking, the land dying again.
“Do not listen!” Adaeze shouted. She plunged the staff into the ground. The fire recoiled.
Uzochi chanted the Song of Steadfastness, an old melody meant to seal hearts. Chidubem added the names of those they had saved—Uche, Ogbonna, Chief Ogwuma. One by one, the Circle remembered.
They took their seeds.
And they planted them into the root.
Light erupted.
The names burned brighter. The flames began to weep, and the smoke turned clear. Njoku fell to his knees, his ember-skin shedding to reveal flesh once more.
“I forgot my purpose,” he said. “But you reminded me.”
He placed his hand on Adaeze’s shoulder. “You are now the Keeper.”
The root shifted. A door opened in the rock wall behind it, revealing a staircase of light.
“This path leads to the Heart,” Njoku whispered. “The final seal. Beyond it, the Obiri wait.”
The Circle emerged from the cavern, faces ash-streaked, garments soaked with memory. But their eyes were clear.
In the Obiri’s stronghold, Nwokeoji staggered.
“They reached the Root,” he hissed.
Another spirit spat fire into the air. “Then the final stage must begin. Burn the Heart. Twist the names. Shatter their staff.”
“No,” Nwokeoji said. “We burn none of it. We invade it. From inside.”
He turned to a figure cloaked in fog. “Send the Dreamer.”
Back in the valley, Adaeze stood alone beside the tree.
She looked at the horizon. She could feel it now—something in the wind. A ripple in the names.
“They’re not going to fight fair anymore,” she said.
“No,” Uzochi replied. “But neither will we.”
They turned to face the Heart.
The Circle had passed the Test.
They had awakened the Root.
Now, they would walk into the fire of truth itself.
For days, they traveled through the Valleys of Withering, a wide stretch of land where the trees were gnarled and the rivers flowed black. Once, it had been rich with farms and community, a hub for trade and worship. Now, it smelled of rust and salt, and strange birds circled without calling.
Uzochi explained the truth that lingered in the wind.
“When the Obiri first fell, they cursed the land, not with death, but with forgetfulness. Crops grew but had no taste. Children were born but remembered no songs. Generations passed like shadows.”
“Then this land must remember again,” said Adaeze.
They reached the center of the valley, where a tree taller than any building stretched into the heavens. Its bark was ash-grey, its roots cracked stone, and at its base was a hole leading underground. The guardians knelt in unison.
“This,” said Uzochi, “is the Root.”
Chidubem stepped forward. “What lies beneath?”
“The fire they tried to bury.”
Without waiting, Adaeze entered the hole, the spiral of her staff glowing brighter with each step. Chidubem followed. Then the others. The descent was steep, carved with the old spirals of origin, the same symbols found at the Mirror of the First Mouth.
As they reached the bottom, they saw it—a cavern lit with a fire that did not burn but shimmered. At its center sat a massive root, coiled like a serpent, covered in names etched in living flame.
Each name pulsed.
Each name breathed.
“This is the memory of the land,” said Uzochi. “Its bloodline. Its soul.”
But something stirred in the fire. A shape moved beneath the root.
A voice called out.
“You have come too late.”
The flames parted, revealing a man—or what had once been a man. His skin was scorched and flickering like an ember, his eyes hollow with gold light.
“I am Njoku. The Root Keeper. I was meant to guard the truth. But I grew tired. I let them in.”
Adaeze stepped forward. “Then help us undo what was done.”
He laughed. “The Obiri did not steal this fire. They fed it. With lies. With fear. Now it burns everything. Even the truth.”
Suddenly, the flames roared, and the root cracked. Smoke filled the cavern. Whispers curled around them—doubt, betrayal, grief. Visions flooded their minds: the Circle turning on each other, the guardians breaking, the land dying again.
“Do not listen!” Adaeze shouted. She plunged the staff into the ground. The fire recoiled.
Uzochi chanted the Song of Steadfastness, an old melody meant to seal hearts. Chidubem added the names of those they had saved—Uche, Ogbonna, Chief Ogwuma. One by one, the Circle remembered.
They took their seeds.
And they planted them into the root.
Light erupted.
The names burned brighter. The flames began to weep, and the smoke turned clear. Njoku fell to his knees, his ember-skin shedding to reveal flesh once more.
“I forgot my purpose,” he said. “But you reminded me.”
He placed his hand on Adaeze’s shoulder. “You are now the Keeper.”
The root shifted. A door opened in the rock wall behind it, revealing a staircase of light.
“This path leads to the Heart,” Njoku whispered. “The final seal. Beyond it, the Obiri wait.”
The Circle emerged from the cavern, faces ash-streaked, garments soaked with memory. But their eyes were clear.
In the Obiri’s stronghold, Nwokeoji staggered.
“They reached the Root,” he hissed.
Another spirit spat fire into the air. “Then the final stage must begin. Burn the Heart. Twist the names. Shatter their staff.”
“No,” Nwokeoji said. “We burn none of it. We invade it. From inside.”
He turned to a figure cloaked in fog. “Send the Dreamer.”
Back in the valley, Adaeze stood alone beside the tree.
She looked at the horizon. She could feel it now—something in the wind. A ripple in the names.
“They’re not going to fight fair anymore,” she said.
“No,” Uzochi replied. “But neither will we.”
They turned to face the Heart.
The Circle had passed the Test.
They had awakened the Root.
Now, they would walk into the fire of truth itself.
End of Bound by ancestry Chapter 15. Continue reading Chapter 16 or return to Bound by ancestry book page.