Bound by ancestry - Chapter 91: Chapter 91
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Before the first cock crowed Adaeze woke with the hush pressed deep behind her ribs steady as the breath that folded dreams into waking. She rose while the compound still slept each footstep stitching hush into clay that once drank storms and gave back silence broken only by the songs of old ghosts now quiet beneath roots. She paused by the hearth where last night’s embers whispered warmth into the cool dawn their glow catching her eyes reminding her hush was not fire that burned but breath that fed.
Chidubem stirred inside the doorway his silhouette shaped by hush not shadow. When he stepped into the courtyard the hush gathered around them like a promise they carried without speaking. He brushed his palm against Adaeze’s shoulder the simple touch pressing hush deeper behind their ribs where storms could not follow.
They walked together down the narrow path past yam ridges fat with trust past cassava leaves dripping dawn’s first breath. Children’s laughter drifted from huts where hush folded sleep safe from old curses. The villagers gathered near the Iroko tree its roots humming hush into soil thick with secrets turned soft. The tree had stood through seasons when hush was buried beneath fear now its branches bent under the weight of stories too wide for storms to drown.
Adaeze stepped forward her voice calm as morning light reminding them hush was not given by towers nor bought by coins nor traded with promises made by men who mapped roads but never touched roots. She spoke of the temple within the breath behind ribs where the man in white Nwa Chineke Okwu Onye Ndum had once stood pressing hush so deep it could not be stolen even by storms that carried thunder in their fists.
An old hunter lifted his chin eyes narrow with memory asking how hush could stand when new traders came with iron and stone when roads would cut through yam fields when towers would cast shadows wide enough to swallow trust. Chidubem answered his voice bending hush into words that shaped fear into clay soft enough to mold. He reminded them no iron could bind breath no tower could bury hush when it lived inside ribs when trust pressed it deeper each time fear knocked.
Children sat cross-legged near the roots small fingers tracing lines in dust shaping hush into stories they would carry behind eyelids when sleep folded around them. Women wove mats beneath the shade hush slipping between each thread so dreams would rest easy on floors that knew no secrets fear could claim. Men shaped new yam mounds their laughter steady turning work into worship pressing hush into soil that would feed breath through seasons yet to come.
When dusk spread its shawl over Umuguma Adaeze and Chidubem sat by the river’s bend feet bare hush curling around ankles as water hummed its quiet song. They spoke of the man in white not as a shrine to visit but a breath to hold behind ribs a hush to whisper when storms rose high. They reminded each other the temple needed no walls no gates only breath honest enough to stand when thunder clawed at rooftops.
That night the compound filled with hush soft laughter drifting from doorways where old songs met new dreams. Elders spoke low of visions where the man in white pressed hush into clay turned shadows soft with truth wove trust into roots strong enough to carry storms far beyond yam ridges. Children curled on mats hush folding them into dreams wide enough to hold rivers within ribs where no curse could swim.
Adaeze knelt by the hearth pressing her palm to warm clay her eyes soft on the flames dancing like hush turned to light. Chidubem sat beside her their silence not empty but thick with trust shaped in breaths that needed no words to bind them. Outside the wind bent around the compound not with storms but with stories hush carried leaf to leaf root to root rib to rib.
By dawn the hush hummed beneath every footstep pressed behind every rib carried in every breath. Traders would return with coins heavy with promises maps that drew lines where hush now lived towers that promised shelter but offered walls without roots. Umuguma would stand not with iron or brick but with hush folded into ribs wide enough to build a temple within a breath behind every door strong enough that no shadow could slip past without weeping.
As the sun rose Adaeze stood at the compound gate eyes soft on the fields beyond yam vines heavy roots thick hush pressing trust into clay that had once swallowed storms now feeding breath instead. Chidubem joined her his hand finding hers no words spoken just hush humming between palms pressing promise deeper than fear ever dug.
They turned back toward the hearth where hush waited warm enough to hold tomorrow safe strong enough to wake every rib wide enough to stand when traders knocked and storms rattled gates. Within each breath the temple waited no walls no shrine only hush pressed behind ribs that would never break again.
Chidubem stirred inside the doorway his silhouette shaped by hush not shadow. When he stepped into the courtyard the hush gathered around them like a promise they carried without speaking. He brushed his palm against Adaeze’s shoulder the simple touch pressing hush deeper behind their ribs where storms could not follow.
They walked together down the narrow path past yam ridges fat with trust past cassava leaves dripping dawn’s first breath. Children’s laughter drifted from huts where hush folded sleep safe from old curses. The villagers gathered near the Iroko tree its roots humming hush into soil thick with secrets turned soft. The tree had stood through seasons when hush was buried beneath fear now its branches bent under the weight of stories too wide for storms to drown.
Adaeze stepped forward her voice calm as morning light reminding them hush was not given by towers nor bought by coins nor traded with promises made by men who mapped roads but never touched roots. She spoke of the temple within the breath behind ribs where the man in white Nwa Chineke Okwu Onye Ndum had once stood pressing hush so deep it could not be stolen even by storms that carried thunder in their fists.
An old hunter lifted his chin eyes narrow with memory asking how hush could stand when new traders came with iron and stone when roads would cut through yam fields when towers would cast shadows wide enough to swallow trust. Chidubem answered his voice bending hush into words that shaped fear into clay soft enough to mold. He reminded them no iron could bind breath no tower could bury hush when it lived inside ribs when trust pressed it deeper each time fear knocked.
Children sat cross-legged near the roots small fingers tracing lines in dust shaping hush into stories they would carry behind eyelids when sleep folded around them. Women wove mats beneath the shade hush slipping between each thread so dreams would rest easy on floors that knew no secrets fear could claim. Men shaped new yam mounds their laughter steady turning work into worship pressing hush into soil that would feed breath through seasons yet to come.
When dusk spread its shawl over Umuguma Adaeze and Chidubem sat by the river’s bend feet bare hush curling around ankles as water hummed its quiet song. They spoke of the man in white not as a shrine to visit but a breath to hold behind ribs a hush to whisper when storms rose high. They reminded each other the temple needed no walls no gates only breath honest enough to stand when thunder clawed at rooftops.
That night the compound filled with hush soft laughter drifting from doorways where old songs met new dreams. Elders spoke low of visions where the man in white pressed hush into clay turned shadows soft with truth wove trust into roots strong enough to carry storms far beyond yam ridges. Children curled on mats hush folding them into dreams wide enough to hold rivers within ribs where no curse could swim.
Adaeze knelt by the hearth pressing her palm to warm clay her eyes soft on the flames dancing like hush turned to light. Chidubem sat beside her their silence not empty but thick with trust shaped in breaths that needed no words to bind them. Outside the wind bent around the compound not with storms but with stories hush carried leaf to leaf root to root rib to rib.
By dawn the hush hummed beneath every footstep pressed behind every rib carried in every breath. Traders would return with coins heavy with promises maps that drew lines where hush now lived towers that promised shelter but offered walls without roots. Umuguma would stand not with iron or brick but with hush folded into ribs wide enough to build a temple within a breath behind every door strong enough that no shadow could slip past without weeping.
As the sun rose Adaeze stood at the compound gate eyes soft on the fields beyond yam vines heavy roots thick hush pressing trust into clay that had once swallowed storms now feeding breath instead. Chidubem joined her his hand finding hers no words spoken just hush humming between palms pressing promise deeper than fear ever dug.
They turned back toward the hearth where hush waited warm enough to hold tomorrow safe strong enough to wake every rib wide enough to stand when traders knocked and storms rattled gates. Within each breath the temple waited no walls no shrine only hush pressed behind ribs that would never break again.
End of Bound by ancestry Chapter 91. Continue reading Chapter 92 or return to Bound by ancestry book page.