Bound by ancestry - Chapter 24: Chapter 24

The Circle left the Valley of Dust before the sun had fully risen. The earth beneath their feet felt softer than it had before, as though memory had turned the soil fertile again. They walked in silence, not out of exhaustion but in reverence for what had passed. Behind them, the monument still stood, now split and glowing gently with life. The names carved into the cloths tied to the trees fluttered in the early wind, each one singing its own quiet note into the morning.
Adaeze led the way, staff in hand. Her steps were slow but deliberate. Chidubem followed close behind. His gaze lingered on the sky. He had dreamed again the night before. A sky filled with birds that had no wings, flying through a storm with no sound. He had woken with a sense of urgency but kept it to himself for now.
Uche had begun humming a melody she had picked up from one of the newly awakened voices. It was not a song with words but a pattern of breath and tone that seemed to soften the air around them. Ogbonna and Uzochi walked beside her, occasionally exchanging glances when the road narrowed or split. It had become instinct now. They no longer needed to speak to know what the other intended.
The path shifted from soft earth to rocky hills by midday. A strange energy moved through the stones. The closer they climbed toward the ridge that overlooked the stretch of southern plains, the more the wind began to carry fragments of something unnatural. At first it was just rustling leaves. Then whispers. Then full words that no one among them spoke.
Adaeze stopped at the summit and looked across the land. In the distance, a gathering of figures stood motionless. Not villagers. Not spirits. People. They were dressed in deep red robes and held tall poles adorned with symbols of order and silence. A small encampment had been formed near an ancient shrine, one long abandoned by the memory keepers. Adaeze lowered her staff slowly.
Chidubem stepped beside her. “Those are not from the Circle.”
“No,” she replied. “They are Sentinels of the Archive. Protectors of enforced silence. We were warned of them before.”
Uche narrowed her eyes. “They were the ones who erased entire villages. They wear obedience like armor.”
Ogbonna clenched his jaw. “Then why are they here now?”
Adaeze answered without blinking. “Because we stirred something they buried long ago.”
The Circle descended slowly. They did not hide. They did not run. When they reached the outer edge of the encampment, two Sentinels stepped forward. Their faces were partially covered. Their eyes cold.
One spoke. “You carry light that does not belong to you.”
Adaeze did not look away. “We carry names. You buried them. We raised them.”
“You have trespassed into forgotten ground,” the other Sentinel said. “There are things not meant to be known.”
“There is nothing that should remain unknown if it causes pain to live,” Chidubem said.
The Sentinels stepped back.
An older figure emerged from one of the tents. He walked with a staff not unlike Adaeze’s, though his was black and devoid of symbols. His robes bore no color. His presence made the wind still. The air around him thickened.
“I am the Warden of Silence,” he said. “You are the ones who disturb balance in the name of memory.”
Adaeze stepped forward. “And you are the one who trades truth for control.”
“There must be control,” he replied. “There must be lines drawn. Without them, the world fractures.”
“The world already fractured,” Uche said, voice low. “You just painted over the cracks.”
The Warden did not respond to her. Instead, he turned to Chidubem. “You dreamed of me. Did you not?”
Chidubem stiffened. “I dreamed of a hollow wind. A sky that refused to sing. Was that you?”
The Warden smiled, not kindly. “You dreamed of warning. I dreamed of return. The truth is not as pure as you believe. It brings not only light but fire.”
Adaeze raised her staff. “Then let the fire come. Let it burn what needs to be cleansed.”
“You do not understand what you are inviting,” the Warden said. “The more you awaken, the more you pull at threads long buried for good reason. Do you truly think all forgotten things deserve remembering?”
Chidubem answered. “Yes.”
The Warden turned away. “Then your path is set.”
That night, the Circle camped on the opposite end of the plains, near a grove of whispering trees. The wind there spoke differently. It echoed not fear but curiosity. Uche lit the fire and set down her lantern beside it. The Heartstone within pulsed rapidly.
“It’s never done that before,” she whispered.
Ogbonna watched the glow intensify. “It is sensing something.”
Adaeze knelt beside it and placed her palm over the lantern. Her eyes closed.
Visions came.
A massive gathering of voices screaming beneath the ground.
A city swallowed by silence.
A tower built to reach the stars, only to be buried in dust.
She opened her eyes sharply. “There is a tomb beneath the shrine. One that holds not bodies but memory itself.”
Chidubem nodded. “The Archive.”
“Yes,” she replied. “And it is not just guarded by men like the Warden. It is guarded by a choice.”
They rose at dawn and returned to the edge of the shrine. The Sentinels were gone. The tents remained but had been left empty. No footprints led away. No signs of departure. It was as if they had simply vanished.
The shrine stood tall, carved into the side of a steep hill. The entrance was narrow, half-covered by overgrown roots. Uche cleared the path. The Circle entered together.
Inside, the air was heavy. Not stale, but full. Each breath felt like inhaling centuries of silence. The walls were lined with shelves, but instead of books, they held boxes sealed with wax and marked with numbers. The deeper they walked, the colder it became.
At the very center of the shrine lay a single door.
It bore no handle.
No lock.
Only a symbol.
A spiral broken at the edge.
Adaeze placed her palm against it. Nothing happened.
Chidubem stepped beside her. “Let me try.”
He pressed his hand to the spiral and whispered, “I remember.”
The door opened.
Beyond it lay a chamber lit by floating light. On the floor was a large circle etched into the stone, filled with names. Names that had never been spoken. Names that had never lived. They pulsed faintly, awaiting voice.
Uche stepped into the circle and knelt. She began to read.
One name at a time.
Slowly.
Clearly.
Ogbonna joined her.
Then Uzochi.
Then Adaeze.
Then Chidubem.
The moment the last name was spoken, the chamber shook.
Not with anger.
With release.
The shrine cracked open at the top, letting light in from above. The wind rushed in and began to swirl. The names rose from the floor and danced in the air, turning into soft flame before fading.
The Heartstone glowed brighter than ever.
They had freed them.
All of them.
Adaeze turned to the others. “We have done what we came to do.”
“No,” Chidubem said. “We did what we were born to do.”
As they stepped back into the morning sun, a bird cried out overhead.
Its wings spread wide.
The sky was no longer silent.