Bound by ancestry - Chapter 28: Chapter 28
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The return from the Cradle changed everything. The land felt awake in ways it never had before. Every tree they passed seemed to lean forward as if listening. The rivers murmured with new voices. The sky hung low, charged with a tension that neither warned nor welcomed. It simply waited. The Circle moved in silence as they descended the eastern hills of Ezeanya. The soil here was rich and dark, not just from age but from memory. Adaeze held the new staff close, its spiral crystal still humming faintly with the resonance of the Cradle. The moment she stepped into the valley below, the winds circled her as though drawn to something they had long forgotten.
Chidubem stayed close behind, eyes scanning the horizon. The silence was no longer peaceful. It was full. As if something watched from every tree, every shadowed rock, every layer of moving wind. He did not speak his worry. Adaeze already knew. Uche walked beside Uzochi who was quieter than usual. Her fingers moved restlessly against the edge of her sash. She had felt the burden of the Cradle as much as the rest but something else lingered on her mind. Her dreams since the visit had been different. Sharper. Voices spoke in full sentences now instead of symbols. Faces looked familiar even if she could not name them.
Ogbonna’s steps grew heavier the closer they moved toward the Heartland. His connection to the land had always been physical and now it fought with him. The ground responded to their footsteps with brief tremors, small vibrations beneath the soles of their feet. Something beneath the surface stirred and it was not just the ancient roots. They reached the edge of Umuguma’s outer path by dusk. The sun spilled soft golden hues across the fields. But the village was quiet. Too quiet. No children ran between the huts. No firewood crackled with evening meals. No songs of elders echoed from the square. Adaeze stopped. Her eyes narrowed. The others felt it too. Absence.
They approached slowly. The village was not empty. Smoke curled from chimneys. Water buckets lay full beside huts. But no one was outside. As though the people had vanished in the middle of their living. Ogbonna raised his staff and whispered to the wind. It did not respond. That silence was confirmation. Something had entered before them. Uche placed a hand on the soil and closed her eyes. Her breath caught. She opened her eyes and looked at the group. “The memory here was stolen,” she said.
“Stolen?” Chidubem asked. “How can memory be stolen?”
“Not taken,” Uche said. “Fed upon. Something drew out the weight of the people and left their bodies behind. They are inside. But they are not aware.”
Adaeze turned toward the center of the village. “The Circle House,” she said. “We begin there.”
They walked together through the wide path that led to the Circle House. As they neared, the energy grew heavier. Each step slowed them. The staff in Adaeze’s hand began to glow. Inside the great hall, the elders sat as though frozen. Their eyes were open. But unfocused. Each face was slack with stillness. Each breath shallow but steady. It was like they lived only halfway. Uche approached Mama Ukamaka who sat nearest the entrance. Her hands trembled as she reached forward. She pressed her palm lightly against Mama Ukamaka’s chest. A sharp flash of light burst between them. Uche stumbled back.
“She is trapped in a forgetting,” Uche said. “Not her own. Someone else’s.”
Adaeze stepped forward. “Then we find the source.”
At the far end of the hall stood the great drum. It had not been struck in decades. Reserved for moments of great transformation, its surface remained unbroken. But now it glowed. A slow, rhythmic thrum that matched no known beat. Chidubem stepped close to it. His eyes widened. “It is breathing,” he whispered.
“Not the drum,” Ogbonna said. “What is beneath it.”
Adaeze raised the staff. The spiral crystal spun slowly. She brought the staff down gently upon the earth. A soft hum passed through the ground. The drum lifted on its own and beneath it revealed a circle carved into the floor. Runes lined the rim and in its center sat a fragment of obsidian pulsing with red light.
“Blood memory,” Uche said. “This is not ancestral. This is invasive.”
Adaeze moved cautiously. “Someone planted this. To silence the people.”
Chidubem frowned. “Then who remembers what was lost?”
“The land,” Adaeze said. “The land never forgets.”
She knelt beside the fragment and placed the tip of her staff against it. A wave of heat burst from the stone. The runes began to shift. Words tried to form but collapsed into dust. Adaeze did not flinch. She spoke to the crystal.
“We remember. We name what was buried. We call back what was taken.”
The stone pulsed violently. Then cracked. A sound like wind rushing through the ocean walls filled the hall. The elders gasped. Their eyes cleared. Mama Ukamaka groaned and leaned forward.
“It was cold,” she whispered. “It was dark. Something wrapped around our names and pulled.”
The others stirred, one by one. Confusion filled their expressions. Adaeze helped Mama Ukamaka stand.
“Who did this?” she asked.
Mama Ukamaka’s eyes watered. “Not one of us. But someone who knew our roots.”
Ogbonna turned sharply. “Then they have returned.”
“No,” Mama Ukamaka said. “They were never gone.”
The Circle did not rest that night. They gathered in the council square and listened as each elder told what they remembered before the silence fell. The details were fragmented. A stranger who spoke without moving his lips. A child who walked backward into the village and never came out. A woman whose shadow split into three. Uche took notes quickly, trying to piece together the fractured tales. Chidubem compared them to the stories from the Cradle. Symbols began to align. Adaeze stood at the center, staff raised, eyes closed.
Then a gust of wind blew through the square and a single word was carried on it.
“Elechie.”
The name struck like thunder. It was a name not spoken in generations. Not since the time of the Silent Accord. Adaeze’s eyes opened slowly.
“Elechie is awake,” she said. “And we are out of time.”
The Circle gathered at dawn. The decision was made. They would leave Umuguma and seek out the Root Shrine hidden beyond the River of Bones. There, the silence could not reach them. There, memory lived untouched. The journey would not be safe. The River was said to flow through the souls of those who denied their lineage. To cross it was to face truth without preparation. Yet there was no other path.
They traveled lightly. The village elders gave them blessings but few words. Their memories were too fresh and their recovery incomplete. Adaeze held the staff high as they left the village. The sun had not yet risen. Mist clung to their robes. The path to the River of Bones began at the foot of three ancient stones. Each stone bore the name of a forgotten clan. Adaeze touched each one and spoke their names aloud. The earth trembled softly with each name.
The river appeared at midday. It was not made of water. It shimmered like glass stretched across the valley floor. Beneath its surface swirled lights and shadows and faces. Uche stepped forward and looked down. She saw her brother’s face. But he did not look back.
“They are not ghosts,” Chidubem said. “They are questions.”
Adaeze nodded. “We must answer them with truth.”
One by one, the Circle stepped onto the river. Not across it. Into it. The surface did not break. It accepted their steps but tested them. Uzochi paused as a wave of sorrow swept over her. She whispered a prayer and pressed on. Ogbonna faltered when he saw a child’s hand reaching toward him. He whispered a name and stepped forward. Adaeze felt nothing at first. Only silence. But then the river swirled and showed her a mirror. Herself. Alone. Staff broken. Circle scattered. She blinked. Refused it. Took another step.
They reached the other side by evening. The land there was untouched by time. Trees grew in perfect symmetry. The sky was a deeper shade of blue. In the center stood the Root Shrine. It was not built. It had grown from the land itself. Branches twisted into doorways. Roots formed archways. Flowers bloomed with symbols etched in their petals.
The Circle entered.
Inside, a soft hum vibrated through their bones. A central chamber waited. A stone table covered in ancient script. Adaeze placed the staff upon it. The spiral crystal cracked. Not in damage. In release. Light spilled outward and the shrine responded.
Voices filled the air.
This is the truth you were not meant to carry
This is the name they feared you would remember
This is the storm they tried to bury
And now it rises
The ground shook.
Far across the horizon, clouds formed. Not from weather. From memory.
Elechie had awakened.
And it was coming.
Chidubem stayed close behind, eyes scanning the horizon. The silence was no longer peaceful. It was full. As if something watched from every tree, every shadowed rock, every layer of moving wind. He did not speak his worry. Adaeze already knew. Uche walked beside Uzochi who was quieter than usual. Her fingers moved restlessly against the edge of her sash. She had felt the burden of the Cradle as much as the rest but something else lingered on her mind. Her dreams since the visit had been different. Sharper. Voices spoke in full sentences now instead of symbols. Faces looked familiar even if she could not name them.
Ogbonna’s steps grew heavier the closer they moved toward the Heartland. His connection to the land had always been physical and now it fought with him. The ground responded to their footsteps with brief tremors, small vibrations beneath the soles of their feet. Something beneath the surface stirred and it was not just the ancient roots. They reached the edge of Umuguma’s outer path by dusk. The sun spilled soft golden hues across the fields. But the village was quiet. Too quiet. No children ran between the huts. No firewood crackled with evening meals. No songs of elders echoed from the square. Adaeze stopped. Her eyes narrowed. The others felt it too. Absence.
They approached slowly. The village was not empty. Smoke curled from chimneys. Water buckets lay full beside huts. But no one was outside. As though the people had vanished in the middle of their living. Ogbonna raised his staff and whispered to the wind. It did not respond. That silence was confirmation. Something had entered before them. Uche placed a hand on the soil and closed her eyes. Her breath caught. She opened her eyes and looked at the group. “The memory here was stolen,” she said.
“Stolen?” Chidubem asked. “How can memory be stolen?”
“Not taken,” Uche said. “Fed upon. Something drew out the weight of the people and left their bodies behind. They are inside. But they are not aware.”
Adaeze turned toward the center of the village. “The Circle House,” she said. “We begin there.”
They walked together through the wide path that led to the Circle House. As they neared, the energy grew heavier. Each step slowed them. The staff in Adaeze’s hand began to glow. Inside the great hall, the elders sat as though frozen. Their eyes were open. But unfocused. Each face was slack with stillness. Each breath shallow but steady. It was like they lived only halfway. Uche approached Mama Ukamaka who sat nearest the entrance. Her hands trembled as she reached forward. She pressed her palm lightly against Mama Ukamaka’s chest. A sharp flash of light burst between them. Uche stumbled back.
“She is trapped in a forgetting,” Uche said. “Not her own. Someone else’s.”
Adaeze stepped forward. “Then we find the source.”
At the far end of the hall stood the great drum. It had not been struck in decades. Reserved for moments of great transformation, its surface remained unbroken. But now it glowed. A slow, rhythmic thrum that matched no known beat. Chidubem stepped close to it. His eyes widened. “It is breathing,” he whispered.
“Not the drum,” Ogbonna said. “What is beneath it.”
Adaeze raised the staff. The spiral crystal spun slowly. She brought the staff down gently upon the earth. A soft hum passed through the ground. The drum lifted on its own and beneath it revealed a circle carved into the floor. Runes lined the rim and in its center sat a fragment of obsidian pulsing with red light.
“Blood memory,” Uche said. “This is not ancestral. This is invasive.”
Adaeze moved cautiously. “Someone planted this. To silence the people.”
Chidubem frowned. “Then who remembers what was lost?”
“The land,” Adaeze said. “The land never forgets.”
She knelt beside the fragment and placed the tip of her staff against it. A wave of heat burst from the stone. The runes began to shift. Words tried to form but collapsed into dust. Adaeze did not flinch. She spoke to the crystal.
“We remember. We name what was buried. We call back what was taken.”
The stone pulsed violently. Then cracked. A sound like wind rushing through the ocean walls filled the hall. The elders gasped. Their eyes cleared. Mama Ukamaka groaned and leaned forward.
“It was cold,” she whispered. “It was dark. Something wrapped around our names and pulled.”
The others stirred, one by one. Confusion filled their expressions. Adaeze helped Mama Ukamaka stand.
“Who did this?” she asked.
Mama Ukamaka’s eyes watered. “Not one of us. But someone who knew our roots.”
Ogbonna turned sharply. “Then they have returned.”
“No,” Mama Ukamaka said. “They were never gone.”
The Circle did not rest that night. They gathered in the council square and listened as each elder told what they remembered before the silence fell. The details were fragmented. A stranger who spoke without moving his lips. A child who walked backward into the village and never came out. A woman whose shadow split into three. Uche took notes quickly, trying to piece together the fractured tales. Chidubem compared them to the stories from the Cradle. Symbols began to align. Adaeze stood at the center, staff raised, eyes closed.
Then a gust of wind blew through the square and a single word was carried on it.
“Elechie.”
The name struck like thunder. It was a name not spoken in generations. Not since the time of the Silent Accord. Adaeze’s eyes opened slowly.
“Elechie is awake,” she said. “And we are out of time.”
The Circle gathered at dawn. The decision was made. They would leave Umuguma and seek out the Root Shrine hidden beyond the River of Bones. There, the silence could not reach them. There, memory lived untouched. The journey would not be safe. The River was said to flow through the souls of those who denied their lineage. To cross it was to face truth without preparation. Yet there was no other path.
They traveled lightly. The village elders gave them blessings but few words. Their memories were too fresh and their recovery incomplete. Adaeze held the staff high as they left the village. The sun had not yet risen. Mist clung to their robes. The path to the River of Bones began at the foot of three ancient stones. Each stone bore the name of a forgotten clan. Adaeze touched each one and spoke their names aloud. The earth trembled softly with each name.
The river appeared at midday. It was not made of water. It shimmered like glass stretched across the valley floor. Beneath its surface swirled lights and shadows and faces. Uche stepped forward and looked down. She saw her brother’s face. But he did not look back.
“They are not ghosts,” Chidubem said. “They are questions.”
Adaeze nodded. “We must answer them with truth.”
One by one, the Circle stepped onto the river. Not across it. Into it. The surface did not break. It accepted their steps but tested them. Uzochi paused as a wave of sorrow swept over her. She whispered a prayer and pressed on. Ogbonna faltered when he saw a child’s hand reaching toward him. He whispered a name and stepped forward. Adaeze felt nothing at first. Only silence. But then the river swirled and showed her a mirror. Herself. Alone. Staff broken. Circle scattered. She blinked. Refused it. Took another step.
They reached the other side by evening. The land there was untouched by time. Trees grew in perfect symmetry. The sky was a deeper shade of blue. In the center stood the Root Shrine. It was not built. It had grown from the land itself. Branches twisted into doorways. Roots formed archways. Flowers bloomed with symbols etched in their petals.
The Circle entered.
Inside, a soft hum vibrated through their bones. A central chamber waited. A stone table covered in ancient script. Adaeze placed the staff upon it. The spiral crystal cracked. Not in damage. In release. Light spilled outward and the shrine responded.
Voices filled the air.
This is the truth you were not meant to carry
This is the name they feared you would remember
This is the storm they tried to bury
And now it rises
The ground shook.
Far across the horizon, clouds formed. Not from weather. From memory.
Elechie had awakened.
And it was coming.
End of Bound by ancestry Chapter 28. Continue reading Chapter 29 or return to Bound by ancestry book page.