Bound by ancestry - Chapter 27: Chapter 27

By the time the Circle left the Singing Hills, the wind had already begun to change. It no longer drifted lazily through the trees. It moved with purpose, pressing against their backs as though guiding them. The seed Adaeze carried had started to glow with a subtle pulse, its rhythm syncing with the heartbeat of the Heartstone. Each thrum was a note in the symphony of their journey. The land did not speak with words, but it sang through motion, light, and memory. Every branch, every ripple in the river, every cloud shift above them told a part of a story that was still unfolding.
Adaeze led the way with a determined silence. The map they followed was not drawn on parchment. It was carved into instinct and stirred awake in their dreams. At night, they saw the same place. A valley where the sky bent low enough to kiss the earth. A place where silence did not oppress but nurtured. A cradle. Ancient. Living. Waiting.
Chidubem walked beside her, his face hard with concentration. He had begun to feel the pull more strongly than the others. Sometimes, while resting or eating, his hand would begin to tremble. Not from fear but resonance. Like a drumhead too close to song. He had not told the others. Not yet. Uche walked just behind them, watching. She noticed the way the wind always curled around Adaeze’s staff. She noticed the way the earth refused to gather dust beneath Chidubem’s feet. She noticed everything.
Ogbonna brought up the rear, staff always at the ready, his eyes never resting in one direction too long. Though their journey had taken them far from the chaos of the Obiri and the Warden’s sentinels, he knew that power once challenged did not sleep easily. He sensed it. Somewhere, someone still watched. But it was not time to confront shadows. Not yet.
By midday, they reached the edge of the old borderlands. The region once known as Ezeanya stretched wide before them. It had once been a land of light and ritual, a central meeting place for voices across the five ancient realms. But after the Fracture, it had been closed, its name erased from most maps. Trees grew crooked here. Rivers flowed upstream. The air was thin and heavy at once. It was land unwelcomed by history.
Adaeze knelt and placed the glowing seed upon the ground. The moment it touched the soil, a faint line of light raced forward, cutting through underbrush and tangled roots like a finger drawing across skin. The Circle followed it, wordless. The path curved and turned with no sense of logic, yet every step forward felt correct. The seed did not stop glowing. If anything, its pulse intensified.
The light led them to a cave mouth tucked between two leaning cliffs. Moss covered its face like a veil. Birds did not fly here. Trees bent away from it. Even the wind hesitated before drifting into the darkness. Adaeze raised her staff and stepped forward. Chidubem followed without question. The others hesitated only for a breath before continuing.
Inside the cave, silence ruled. Not the kind that followed fear or reverence. It was the silence of listening. Of something waiting to be asked. The walls pulsed faintly. Not with light, but with memory. Every few feet, they passed etchings embedded into the stone. Not drawings. Not symbols. Memories. Glimpses of lives long faded. A mother rocking a child beneath a broken roof. A child drawing spirals in the dirt. A man laying down a blade and walking into mist.
Uche reached out and touched one. A sharp breath escaped her lips. She saw a flash of water. Saw hands lifted in prayer. Heard a name whispered with grief. When she pulled her hand back, tears clung to her cheeks.
“It is showing us the forgotten,” she said quietly.
“They are fragments,” Chidubem replied. “Pieces of a whole we are meant to find.”
The deeper they went, the more intense the pressure became. It felt as if they were walking through water, every step demanding more effort. The glow of the seed in Adaeze’s hand became a beacon. It reached outward now, casting light not just ahead but behind them, as if protecting the trail they had already walked. No one looked back. To look back here felt dangerous, as though memory might reach out and hold them in place.
Eventually, the narrow path opened into a vast cavern. The ceiling disappeared into darkness above. At the center stood a raised platform carved from stone so old it glistened with veins of crystal. In its center was a bowl-shaped indentation filled with what appeared to be liquid light. It shimmered and swirled without motion.
Adaeze stepped onto the platform and held the seed above the bowl.
“Is this it?” Uzochi whispered.
Adaeze said nothing.
Instead, she released the seed.
It floated for a moment before lowering slowly into the bowl. The moment it touched the light, the chamber shook. A low hum filled the air. The walls lit with veins of gold and silver, pulsing outward in rhythm with the seed. The liquid light turned upward like a flower blooming.
Then it began.
Visions burst around them. Not flashes. Full memories.
The founding of Umuguma.
The rise and fall of the five memory kingdoms.
The sealing of the Heart.
The betrayal of the First Circle.
Adaeze fell to her knees as the weight of a thousand truths poured through her. Uche cried out and pressed her palms to the stone to stay upright. Ogbonna gritted his teeth as the memory of war surged through his mind. Chidubem trembled violently but remained standing.
The Cradle had awakened.
Voices filled the chamber.
We are the forgotten
We are the silenced
We are the roots beneath your feet
You have called us
Now bear us
The platform lifted. Not physically, but through sense. They no longer stood within a cavern. They stood in a garden of stone and starlight. Above them, the sky pulsed with ancient constellations long removed from the night. Beneath their feet, the ground breathed.
The Circle stood in the center.
Not as travelers
As witnesses
The Cradle spoke.
Truth is not a weapon
It is a burden
You seek to restore what was
But you must shape what will be
Do you understand
Adaeze answered. “We do.”
Then learn
The visions returned.
This time, personal.
Adaeze saw her grandmother before the sickness took her. Saw the moment she passed on the staff. Saw the fear in her own eyes when the responsibility first settled on her shoulders.
Chidubem saw himself as a child, lost in the forest after running from home. Saw the hand that reached for him. Not his father. Not his mother. Himself.
Uche saw her brother smiling. Saw the day he vanished. Saw the truth. He had not been taken. He had chosen to walk away.
Ogbonna saw his failure. Saw the boy who needed help. Saw the moment he looked away. And the cost.
The visions faded.
The chamber dimmed.
The seed had disappeared.
In its place, a new staff grew from the bowl. Its wood was pale and smooth, its top carved into a spiral with a crystal set into its center. The Heartstone’s glow reflected within it.
Adaeze stepped forward and took it.
The Cradle pulsed.
You have chosen
Now go
The ground beneath them shimmered.
And they found themselves back at the cave’s entrance.
Dawn had broken.
Birds sang.
The wind had changed again.
This time, it carried promise.