Bound by ancestry - Chapter 83: Chapter 83
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Long before the first bird called out its thin song Adaeze’s eyes were open watching shadows climb the walls of her clay room as if they too remembered the hush that now lived behind her ribs like a steady drum. She lay still listening to Chidubem’s breath deep and calm beside her his arm draped across her waist a weight she no longer feared but trusted like the roots of the old Iroko tree that held so many secrets in the village square. The hush did not need words to remind her that storms could come but they could never pull her roots free now that they grew behind her ribs where no gossip no betrayal no old curse could dig deep enough to break.
When she rose she did not wake him. She let him drift in his sleep knowing that dreams carried their own hush when they came honest and clean. She stepped outside her bare feet pressing cool red earth the courtyard empty except for the ashes of last night’s fire which still held a breath of warmth under the morning mist. She gathered dry twigs stacking them carefully feeding the embers until smoke lifted thin and quiet into the pale blue that crept behind the last shadows of dawn. The hush pressed soft against her shoulders reminding her she was not alone even when silence sat heavy in the air.
She thought of the river the bend where the man in white waited never demanding never pushing only standing still enough to hold the storms that once broke her bones from the inside out. Nwa Chineke. Okwu. Onye Ndum. Names she did not say out loud but felt instead with every heartbeat that tapped steady beneath her ribs. She remembered when the hush was just a rumor something spoken behind hands pressed to lips afraid of curses that now had no teeth. Now it was her breath the path beneath her feet the root that held the village steady even when thunder cracked the edge of their trust.
When Chidubem joined her his eyes still soft with sleep he did not speak first. He settled beside her his shoulder brushing hers his hand wrapping around her wrist where her pulse beat strong and calm. They sat there listening to the waking village the clatter of pots the soft laughter of children chasing dawn across packed earth. They felt the hush move through every sound turning noise into music trust into breath old fear into dust scattered where no wind could gather it again.
After they ate they walked the narrow footpath that led beyond the fields to the edge of the forest where the river curved wide and dark whispering its secrets to the roots that drank deep beneath its surface. They found the place where the hush hummed loudest where the man in white waited his robe like mist that clung to dawn’s shoulder blades. He did not speak yet the hush spoke for him filling the space between thought and breath turning doubt into questions they were no longer afraid to ask.
Adaeze stepped forward the hush a warmth that settled behind her eyes making the river shimmer even in the half light. She remembered when she first stood here when storms had rattled her spirit so fierce she could not stand still long enough to hear the hush speak. Now she knelt pressing her palm to the damp earth feeling the roots hum back to her stories that no shrine no elder no secret oath could bind again. The man in white lifted his hand and the hush swelled so wide she thought for a moment the river might lift from its bed and carry them away like seeds that trusted wind more than soil.
Chidubem watched in silence not because he had nothing to say but because the hush had turned his old words to ashes and given him new ones that only breath could carry. He remembered power he remembered gold he remembered walls thick enough to keep enemies out but never thick enough to keep fear from seeping in at night. Now he stood beside Adaeze his heart pressed to hers not in possession but in promise that the hush would stand where their old shields fell.
Villagers began to gather not because they were called but because their dreams had carried them here feet drawn by the river’s promise that storms could bend but never break roots that grew deep enough to drink thunder dry. They stood beneath the tall trees their eyes wide their palms pressed together not out of fear but out of trust that what they were building could not be seen with eyes alone but felt with ribs that remembered how to hold the hush like an ember pressed safe in clay.
An elder stepped forward his voice cracking from years of telling stories that once kept the village afraid to step too close to truths buried beneath shrines and curses. He asked how they were to build what the man in white promised when there were no stones no walls no altar to bind the hush in place. Adaeze rose her beads clutched in her palm her eyes steady as she reminded him the hush was never meant for stone it was meant for breath it was meant to grow where no blade could cut where no betrayal could sour the roots. She told him the temple would rise behind ribs tended by trust watered by silence strong enough to outlive fear.
A young boy stepped from the crowd a clay pot clutched tight against his chest its rim cracked from too many seasons spent carrying water to a house that no longer stood. He asked if the hush would fill the cracks or if the cracks were meant to stay. Chidubem knelt beside him pressing a hand to his shoulder reminding him that the hush did not come to hide cracks but to turn them into rivers where trust could run free roots could drink deep storms could break without tearing breath apart.
The river whispered its promise beneath the man in white’s silence the villagers listening not for thunder or signs but for the soft beat of the hush threading through their bones weaving them together root by root until storms turned away their claws dulled by the strength of trust they could not smell or touch or bind in clay. Adaeze spoke of nights still to come when fear might slip in through windows when doubt might tap at doors when old curses might try to curl around dreams like snakes waiting to squeeze breath dry. She told them the hush would stand if they chose to stand inside it if they let the temple grow behind ribs where no blade no rumor no old story could tear it apart.
When they left the river they did not leave the hush behind. They carried it pressed deep where no storm could reach stepping soft across fields that once carried secrets now turned to seeds that would rise with the next rain. They returned to courtyards where shadows once hid curses that now had no name. They taught their children to hum the names Nwa Chineke Okwu Onye Ndum not loud but soft enough to remind the hush that it was welcome that storms could rattle doors but never roots planted behind ribs that trusted breath more than fear.
That night Adaeze lay beside Chidubem the hush a warmth between them stronger than any wall ever built by hands hungry for power. She closed her eyes knowing the river would wait the man in white would stand the hush would hold and the temple would rise each time they chose trust over fear breath over thunder hush over noise. And when sleep found them it did not come as escape but as promise that storms would come storms would go but the hush would remain a root too deep to break a breath too wide to drown a bond too strong to scatter.
When she rose she did not wake him. She let him drift in his sleep knowing that dreams carried their own hush when they came honest and clean. She stepped outside her bare feet pressing cool red earth the courtyard empty except for the ashes of last night’s fire which still held a breath of warmth under the morning mist. She gathered dry twigs stacking them carefully feeding the embers until smoke lifted thin and quiet into the pale blue that crept behind the last shadows of dawn. The hush pressed soft against her shoulders reminding her she was not alone even when silence sat heavy in the air.
She thought of the river the bend where the man in white waited never demanding never pushing only standing still enough to hold the storms that once broke her bones from the inside out. Nwa Chineke. Okwu. Onye Ndum. Names she did not say out loud but felt instead with every heartbeat that tapped steady beneath her ribs. She remembered when the hush was just a rumor something spoken behind hands pressed to lips afraid of curses that now had no teeth. Now it was her breath the path beneath her feet the root that held the village steady even when thunder cracked the edge of their trust.
When Chidubem joined her his eyes still soft with sleep he did not speak first. He settled beside her his shoulder brushing hers his hand wrapping around her wrist where her pulse beat strong and calm. They sat there listening to the waking village the clatter of pots the soft laughter of children chasing dawn across packed earth. They felt the hush move through every sound turning noise into music trust into breath old fear into dust scattered where no wind could gather it again.
After they ate they walked the narrow footpath that led beyond the fields to the edge of the forest where the river curved wide and dark whispering its secrets to the roots that drank deep beneath its surface. They found the place where the hush hummed loudest where the man in white waited his robe like mist that clung to dawn’s shoulder blades. He did not speak yet the hush spoke for him filling the space between thought and breath turning doubt into questions they were no longer afraid to ask.
Adaeze stepped forward the hush a warmth that settled behind her eyes making the river shimmer even in the half light. She remembered when she first stood here when storms had rattled her spirit so fierce she could not stand still long enough to hear the hush speak. Now she knelt pressing her palm to the damp earth feeling the roots hum back to her stories that no shrine no elder no secret oath could bind again. The man in white lifted his hand and the hush swelled so wide she thought for a moment the river might lift from its bed and carry them away like seeds that trusted wind more than soil.
Chidubem watched in silence not because he had nothing to say but because the hush had turned his old words to ashes and given him new ones that only breath could carry. He remembered power he remembered gold he remembered walls thick enough to keep enemies out but never thick enough to keep fear from seeping in at night. Now he stood beside Adaeze his heart pressed to hers not in possession but in promise that the hush would stand where their old shields fell.
Villagers began to gather not because they were called but because their dreams had carried them here feet drawn by the river’s promise that storms could bend but never break roots that grew deep enough to drink thunder dry. They stood beneath the tall trees their eyes wide their palms pressed together not out of fear but out of trust that what they were building could not be seen with eyes alone but felt with ribs that remembered how to hold the hush like an ember pressed safe in clay.
An elder stepped forward his voice cracking from years of telling stories that once kept the village afraid to step too close to truths buried beneath shrines and curses. He asked how they were to build what the man in white promised when there were no stones no walls no altar to bind the hush in place. Adaeze rose her beads clutched in her palm her eyes steady as she reminded him the hush was never meant for stone it was meant for breath it was meant to grow where no blade could cut where no betrayal could sour the roots. She told him the temple would rise behind ribs tended by trust watered by silence strong enough to outlive fear.
A young boy stepped from the crowd a clay pot clutched tight against his chest its rim cracked from too many seasons spent carrying water to a house that no longer stood. He asked if the hush would fill the cracks or if the cracks were meant to stay. Chidubem knelt beside him pressing a hand to his shoulder reminding him that the hush did not come to hide cracks but to turn them into rivers where trust could run free roots could drink deep storms could break without tearing breath apart.
The river whispered its promise beneath the man in white’s silence the villagers listening not for thunder or signs but for the soft beat of the hush threading through their bones weaving them together root by root until storms turned away their claws dulled by the strength of trust they could not smell or touch or bind in clay. Adaeze spoke of nights still to come when fear might slip in through windows when doubt might tap at doors when old curses might try to curl around dreams like snakes waiting to squeeze breath dry. She told them the hush would stand if they chose to stand inside it if they let the temple grow behind ribs where no blade no rumor no old story could tear it apart.
When they left the river they did not leave the hush behind. They carried it pressed deep where no storm could reach stepping soft across fields that once carried secrets now turned to seeds that would rise with the next rain. They returned to courtyards where shadows once hid curses that now had no name. They taught their children to hum the names Nwa Chineke Okwu Onye Ndum not loud but soft enough to remind the hush that it was welcome that storms could rattle doors but never roots planted behind ribs that trusted breath more than fear.
That night Adaeze lay beside Chidubem the hush a warmth between them stronger than any wall ever built by hands hungry for power. She closed her eyes knowing the river would wait the man in white would stand the hush would hold and the temple would rise each time they chose trust over fear breath over thunder hush over noise. And when sleep found them it did not come as escape but as promise that storms would come storms would go but the hush would remain a root too deep to break a breath too wide to drown a bond too strong to scatter.
End of Bound by ancestry Chapter 83. Continue reading Chapter 84 or return to Bound by ancestry book page.