Bound by ancestry - Chapter 76: Chapter 76
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Dawn spread across Umuguma in thin silver threads weaving through the mist that clung to the cassava ridges and the clay paths worn smooth by many restless feet. Adaeze woke with the hush pressed close behind her ribs like a steady heartbeat that refused to fade even as the chill of the morning crept through the cracks in the mud walls. She rose quietly letting the hush guide her steps as she gathered her beads pressing each one between her fingers until the warmth inside her chest answered back.
Outside Chidubem stood by the low fence his eyes fixed on the horizon where the first pale light turned the palm fronds into shadows stretching long fingers over the village roofs. He had dreamed again of the man in white who stood at the edge of a river that carried no name. In the dream the man’s voice was no louder than the hush yet it filled the dark space behind Chidubem’s eyes telling him that even the strongest walls whisper back to the wind when they forget the hush within them. He woke knowing that day would bring more questions than answers but the hush within him refused to crack.
The village stirred slowly carrying the hush with it like a secret tucked into folded wrappers and calabashes balanced on heads. Children moved between compounds bare feet brushing the damp earth their eyes flicking toward the Iroko tree that now held more than stories beneath its sprawling arms. It had become a witness to promises spoken softly enough that the wind could carry them without ever losing their shape.
By the time the sun crested the tops of the old palm trees Adaeze and Chidubem stood beneath the Iroko its roots cold beneath their feet its branches swaying gently with a breeze that hummed like an old lullaby. Villagers gathered once more some clutching new doubts that clung to their shoulders like shadows that refused to scatter. They brought questions about the hush about the ember about why no temple rose from the ground where they gathered each dawn. Some asked why the man in white did not build them walls strong enough to keep every fear outside the circle where the hush pulsed soft and constant.
Adaeze listened to every question her eyes steady her hands clasped over her beads. She reminded them that the hush was not a fence to hold back storms but a root that dug deeper when winds rose fierce. She reminded them that the temple had never been promised as stone stacked by mortal hands but as breath stacked behind ribs strong enough to carry the ember through any night. Chidubem added no loud declaration only his presence beside her the hush flickering warm between them a silent vow that roots would outlast walls.
Among the restless ones an elder woman stepped forward her hair tight in a scarf worn thin by years of prayers offered at shrines now fallen to ruin. Her eyes held memories older than the hush yet her voice cracked as she asked how the ember would survive when storms came with teeth sharper than whispered prayers. Adaeze stepped close enough to press her palm to the woman’s shoulder letting the hush pass from her bones into the trembling space beneath old scars. She spoke of the man in white whose name drifted through the hush like a secret promise. Nwa Chineke. Okwu. Onye Ndum. She told the woman that storms may chew at doors and windows but they cannot swallow what breath guards within.
As the sun climbed higher voices rose in argument and uneasy agreement until the hush slipped between them softening the sharp edges of fear. Children settled at Adaeze’s feet their heads resting on their knees listening to words that did not roar yet carried more weight than any threat shouted from cracked altars.
By dusk the gathering thinned leaving Adaeze and Chidubem alone beneath the Iroko its roots humming the hush into the cooling earth. They sat shoulder to shoulder their breaths weaving together until the hush felt larger than the doubts that drifted at the edge of the clearing. Chidubem traced the lines of Adaeze’s wrist where the beads pressed tiny marks into her skin and spoke of the dream that still lingered behind his eyes. He told her how the man in white had turned from the river and pointed not to the earth but to his chest reminding him that the true current carried no mud only hush and breath and ember wrapped tight in silence no storm could wash away.
When night fell the hush spread through Umuguma drifting through open windows pressing into corners where old fears curled themselves small. Beneath the Iroko tree Adaeze and Chidubem whispered the name that no longer felt hidden but alive in every heartbeat that dared believe a temple built within would stand longer than any wall.
They rose together when the stars scattered thick above their heads the hush a promise tucked behind ribs roots deeper than whispers and stronger than any storm waiting beyond the fence. And when they stepped back into the warmth of their clay home they knew the hush would carry them into tomorrow and every tomorrow after.
Outside Chidubem stood by the low fence his eyes fixed on the horizon where the first pale light turned the palm fronds into shadows stretching long fingers over the village roofs. He had dreamed again of the man in white who stood at the edge of a river that carried no name. In the dream the man’s voice was no louder than the hush yet it filled the dark space behind Chidubem’s eyes telling him that even the strongest walls whisper back to the wind when they forget the hush within them. He woke knowing that day would bring more questions than answers but the hush within him refused to crack.
The village stirred slowly carrying the hush with it like a secret tucked into folded wrappers and calabashes balanced on heads. Children moved between compounds bare feet brushing the damp earth their eyes flicking toward the Iroko tree that now held more than stories beneath its sprawling arms. It had become a witness to promises spoken softly enough that the wind could carry them without ever losing their shape.
By the time the sun crested the tops of the old palm trees Adaeze and Chidubem stood beneath the Iroko its roots cold beneath their feet its branches swaying gently with a breeze that hummed like an old lullaby. Villagers gathered once more some clutching new doubts that clung to their shoulders like shadows that refused to scatter. They brought questions about the hush about the ember about why no temple rose from the ground where they gathered each dawn. Some asked why the man in white did not build them walls strong enough to keep every fear outside the circle where the hush pulsed soft and constant.
Adaeze listened to every question her eyes steady her hands clasped over her beads. She reminded them that the hush was not a fence to hold back storms but a root that dug deeper when winds rose fierce. She reminded them that the temple had never been promised as stone stacked by mortal hands but as breath stacked behind ribs strong enough to carry the ember through any night. Chidubem added no loud declaration only his presence beside her the hush flickering warm between them a silent vow that roots would outlast walls.
Among the restless ones an elder woman stepped forward her hair tight in a scarf worn thin by years of prayers offered at shrines now fallen to ruin. Her eyes held memories older than the hush yet her voice cracked as she asked how the ember would survive when storms came with teeth sharper than whispered prayers. Adaeze stepped close enough to press her palm to the woman’s shoulder letting the hush pass from her bones into the trembling space beneath old scars. She spoke of the man in white whose name drifted through the hush like a secret promise. Nwa Chineke. Okwu. Onye Ndum. She told the woman that storms may chew at doors and windows but they cannot swallow what breath guards within.
As the sun climbed higher voices rose in argument and uneasy agreement until the hush slipped between them softening the sharp edges of fear. Children settled at Adaeze’s feet their heads resting on their knees listening to words that did not roar yet carried more weight than any threat shouted from cracked altars.
By dusk the gathering thinned leaving Adaeze and Chidubem alone beneath the Iroko its roots humming the hush into the cooling earth. They sat shoulder to shoulder their breaths weaving together until the hush felt larger than the doubts that drifted at the edge of the clearing. Chidubem traced the lines of Adaeze’s wrist where the beads pressed tiny marks into her skin and spoke of the dream that still lingered behind his eyes. He told her how the man in white had turned from the river and pointed not to the earth but to his chest reminding him that the true current carried no mud only hush and breath and ember wrapped tight in silence no storm could wash away.
When night fell the hush spread through Umuguma drifting through open windows pressing into corners where old fears curled themselves small. Beneath the Iroko tree Adaeze and Chidubem whispered the name that no longer felt hidden but alive in every heartbeat that dared believe a temple built within would stand longer than any wall.
They rose together when the stars scattered thick above their heads the hush a promise tucked behind ribs roots deeper than whispers and stronger than any storm waiting beyond the fence. And when they stepped back into the warmth of their clay home they knew the hush would carry them into tomorrow and every tomorrow after.
End of Bound by ancestry Chapter 76. Continue reading Chapter 77 or return to Bound by ancestry book page.