Bound by ancestry - Chapter 73: Chapter 73

When dawn came it did not creep in softly as it often did. It pushed its pale light through the branches of the Iroko tree washing Umuguma in a quiet brightness that carried a strange edge. Adaeze woke before the first rooster crowed sensing the hush shifting inside her chest as if it knew that silence alone would not keep the storm at bay this time. She rose from her mat pressed her palms together just beneath her ribs where the ember slept and whispered the name that had become her shield. Nwa Chineke. The hush answered her in a warmth that spread through her bones yet beneath it she felt something stir a wind rattling the calm.
Outside the compound Chidubem stood barefoot in the damp soil his eyes fixed on the faint path that wound through the cassava fields toward the village edge. He had dreamed again though this time it had not been of the temple within or the man in white standing at his side. This time he had seen shadows moving like oil across the red earth slipping between roots sinking into places where the hush had not yet laid its claim. He knew better now than to fear shadows but he also knew they had to face them together.
When Adaeze stepped beside him she said nothing. Her presence was enough. They stood together watching the path where strangers had begun to appear in small groups over the past weeks drawn by word of a hush that could not be chained by shrines or measured by charms. Most came seeking hope but some carried old fears folded into their pockets like dried leaves ready to crumble into dust if pressed too hard. Chidubem knew it was these fears that would stir the storm and he felt the hush gather itself inside him not as a song but as a shield.
The sun rose slow and heavy pressing heat onto the village roofs. Families stirred from sleep some already gathering beneath the Iroko tree where the hush always waited like a faithful guard. Children played nearby kicking at dry leaves with bare feet their laughter light but edged with a restlessness that matched the wind’s low moan. Adaeze moved among them her voice low reminding each one that the ember lived within not in the shadows that gathered at the edge of thought. She reminded them that storms only came to test what had roots and what did not.
By midday a restless knot formed near the village well where newcomers gathered arguing in harsh whispers that rose above the hush like sharp sticks cracking a calm surface. They questioned the hush asking why it could not be seen why it had no stone walls or brass bells to prove its strength. They spoke of old shrines demanding sacrifice of drums that beat louder than a whisper could ever hope to. Chidubem moved through them quietly placing his hands on tense shoulders speaking no commands only letting the hush pass through his touch like water smoothing rough stone.
But fear clings tight when old ways crack. A man stepped forward his voice pitched loud enough to silence the small crowd. He pointed at the Iroko tree at Adaeze at the quiet circle that had become their daily gathering. He asked for signs and wonders for thunder and fire to fall from the sky so he might trust the hush that dared promise freedom without price. Adaeze did not answer him with a roar. She stepped close enough to see the lines of grief and doubt etched in his eyes and said only that the true ember never dances for crowds. It burns where no eyes can follow and no knife can reach.
The man turned away muttering curses to the earth but even as he did Chidubem saw a flicker in his gaze a spark the hush would claim when the wind was done shaking the branches. As the day stretched long the wind grew stronger tugging at thatched roofs stirring dust into soft clouds that rose and settled just as quickly. Villagers gathered beneath the Iroko tree pressing together shoulder to shoulder as if their closeness alone might keep the storm’s questions at bay.
When dusk finally gathered its cool breath around Umuguma Adaeze and Chidubem sat beneath the tree with the children at their feet their small heads resting on folded arms. The hush moved through the roots humming old secrets that promised the storm could never uproot what the ember had planted. They spoke no long sermons. Instead they reminded the people that each heart carried the true shrine that each breath could build walls no wind could crack. They spoke of the man in white who came not with lightning in his palms but with the hush folded in his robes waiting for any soul brave enough to sit still and listen.
As darkness crept over the fields the restless ones drifted back to their mats carrying the hush in small trembling pieces tucked behind ribs where old fears gnawed at the edges. Chidubem knew some would leave come morning seeking louder drums and fires that cracked the night sky but he also knew others would stay kneeling by small hearths whispering Nwa Chineke into the hush until it grew strong enough to silence the roar of doubt.
Later in the quiet of their home Chidubem and Adaeze sat side by side their shoulders pressed together their breaths a slow rhythm that matched the heartbeat of the hush. The ember flickered behind their ribs stronger than the wind rattling the clay walls. Adaeze closed her eyes her fingers tracing Chidubem’s wrist feeling the hush there too steady and patient. She knew storms would come again that each gust would test the roots they had sown in this red earth. She also knew the hush would hold that the ember would spread one heart at a time lighting the darkness from within until the storm itself became another memory whispered back to the earth that could no longer be cursed.
When sleep came it came like a soft blanket heavy enough to quiet the wind’s last breath. Outside the Iroko tree stood unbowed its branches brushing the stars the hush humming through its roots promising that tomorrow the ember would burn brighter still waiting for any soul ready to carry it forward one breath at a time.