Bound by ancestry - Chapter 41: Chapter 41

In the mornings that followed the encounter with the man in white the village moved differently. The silence that once brought fear now carried weight. People still spoke but when they did it was with intention as though each word might awaken something or stir a memory yet to be lived. Children no longer played at the edge of the Dreamroots without asking permission from the soil first. The Echo Nest remained open but those who entered it began to leave their shoes behind as if recognizing they were walking on sacred ground. Adaeze awoke on the third morning with a dream still lingering behind her eyes. She had seen the man in white again but this time he was sitting on the floor of her own room writing with his finger on the air. When she tried to read the words they dissolved like breath on glass but the feeling they left behind filled her with warmth and a certainty she could not explain.
Chidubem sat under the same iroko tree where his first vision had come. His body remained still but his spirit had begun to stretch beyond the reach of sound and shadow. He no longer needed to search outward. He now turned his focus inward and within he found a flame not wild but steady burning softly at the center of his being. When Adaeze found him he did not greet her with words. Instead they sat together in silence their breaths moving in rhythm with the rustling of the leaves above them. They no longer needed to say much. Their bond had begun to move beyond conversation into something woven by the quiet presence within.
Others in the village also began to change. Nnenna the weaver who once feared sleeping due to visions of spirits now began each night by lighting a small candle and whispering a name she could not explain. In the morning she would wake without fear and her woven cloths now shimmered with subtle patterns no one taught her. A young boy named Ifeanyi who used to stutter began speaking clearly only when alone in his room his voice full of wisdom far beyond his years. The villagers began referring to their private spaces as quiet rooms not because they were forbidden to speak but because it was in silence that the presence spoke back.
The elders gathered in the Loom Circle and asked Adaeze to explain what had begun. She stood in the center placed her hand on the ground and spoke not as a teacher but as someone still learning. She said the man in white had not given them a path to follow but a presence to return to. She said he did not build temples of stone or wood. He pointed them inward. She repeated his words slowly and gently close your eyes and you will find me enter your room and call upon me and I will be there. The elders listened and bowed their heads not in ritual but in recognition.
That evening Uche returned from the far side of the Spiral Path carrying a bowl filled with water drawn from the deep well behind the cliffs. She said the water had changed. When placed near the Dreamroots it shimmered faintly and gave off warmth. People began using this water in quiet rituals not for power but for clarity. When someone felt troubled they would anoint their foreheads with a drop and sit alone in their quiet room. And many began to speak of dreams not of fear but of fire. They saw flames that did not burn houses but lit the rooms inside them. They saw lamps glowing in their hearts and paths lit from within.
One afternoon as the sun passed directly overhead a stranger arrived. He carried no bag no tools no message. His clothes were plain and his eyes carried the same rest Adaeze had seen in the man in white. He said nothing to anyone. He simply walked to the Loom Circle sat at its edge and placed a stone beside him. The stone bore no markings but when Adaeze touched it she saw an image flash across her mind. It was not a place but a presence. The stranger smiled at her gently rose and walked away into the Spiral Path without ever looking back. That night Adaeze dreamt again. She saw herself as a child playing beneath the old tree. She looked up and saw her grandmother smiling at her whispering you were always chosen. But she also saw the man in white again standing behind her grandmother holding a lantern of light that did not cast shadows. He said softly it is time to learn how to carry me not in temples but in your breath.
The next day she began to teach. Not publicly not with authority but through example. She taught the children how to sit still and listen to the silence. She showed the women how to close their eyes and call for rest not answers. She told the men that strength was not in action but in awareness. And slowly each person began to understand. Chidubem began writing. Not speeches not instructions but reflections. He called them echoes. He placed them near the Echo Nest where people could read them when they felt called. Each echo spoke of stillness of breath of memory that lives not only in the past but in the present moment.
One echo said your ancestors built altars with stone you must now build altars with silence. Another said when you cannot hear me it is because you have forgotten how to be still. A third simply said you are the room I enter. These words spread not with force but with hunger. People began creating small corners in their homes lit by a single flame or marked with a simple cloth where they could go and sit and simply be. They called these corners obi which means heart. The Dreamroots began to grow toward these corners curling gently as if recognizing sacred space. Animals stopped near them birds rested above them and sometimes people said they saw faint light even with their eyes closed.
The land responded as well. The trees bore fruit out of season the rivers ran clearer the winds carried songs no one had sung in years. It was as if the land had been waiting not for rituals or sacrifice but for this quiet return. Then came the time when the man in white returned again. This time he appeared not at the village edge but in the middle of the Loom Circle. He did not walk in. He was simply there standing with eyes full of light. This time he spoke. His voice was not loud but it reached every heart at once. He said many have built temples with stone but forgot I asked for none. I dwell where you remember me. I move where you welcome me. You have heard my name in whispers now speak it in truth.
Then he said my name is Nwa Chineke. I am the first seed and the final flame. I am Okwu the word spoken before time. I am Onye Ndụm the one who gives life and walks with you. The villagers fell to their knees not in fear but in fullness. The presence in his words filled their breath and their bones. When he raised his hand they felt no command only invitation. He said the path ahead will tremble for light always shakes what hides in darkness. But you are not alone. Build me within. Carry me always. You do not need to travel far. Your room your breath your stillness that is my temple.
Then he disappeared again like mist rising from the earth. But the presence remained. That night every home glowed faintly even without flame. People sang quietly to themselves songs they had not been taught but seemed to already know. And when Adaeze and Chidubem stood together beneath the iroko tree they did not speak. They only closed their eyes placed their hands over their hearts and knew he was there. The temple had been found. And it had always been within.