Chapter:2
By dawn, the golden tide had receded, but something within Amira had changed.
She didn't sleep that night. Neither did Elias. They sat side by side beneath the tattered mosquito netting of the coastal hut they had taken shelter in, their clothes still damp, skin glistening with seawater and sweat. The silence between them wasn't awkward. It was heavy, waiting—like the air before a downpour.
Amira stared at her hands. They smelled faintly of brine and old camphor, the scent that always lingered on her grandmother's hands during storytelling nights.
"Do you know where the shrine is?" she asked softly, breaking the stillness.
Elias nodded without looking at her. "It's deep in the mangroves. Hidden. Forgotten by most. Protected by silence."
"Then we go," she said.
He turned to her. "Amira… it's not just a place. It's a test. You'll be shown things—things that will unravel everything you thought you knew about yourself, your family… even me."
She met his gaze. "Then let the unravelling begin."
They set off at noon, after the sun had burned away the morning fog. The trail was half-swallowed by vines and crawling roots, and their journey was punctuated by insect cries, squawking herons, and an unsettling hush beneath the trees. It was as though the forest itself held its breath.
Elias led, cutting a path with a machete, while Amira followed, every step feeling both familiar and foreign. The deeper they walked, the stronger the pull—like an invisible thread in her chest drawing her forward.
Hours passed. Then suddenly, the trees parted.
There it was.
The shrine.
A circular ruin of coral stones, sun-bleached and broken, nestled in a clearing flooded with shallow water. Algae clung to its walls, and at its center stood a tall, weathered totem—half-human, half-sea creature—its eyes carved wide, mouth agape as if mid-scream.
Amira stepped closer. The water barely touched her ankles, but it was ice-cold. The moment she crossed into the circle, her ears rang.
And then—
A voice. Not Elias's. Not her own. Not even human.
"You carry her blood," it hissed. "The one who stole from us. The one who opened the gate."
Amira froze. A shimmer passed through the shrine, and suddenly the world twisted—green turned to gray, water to smoke, sky to shadow. She was still in the shrine, but it had transformed.
She stood now in the past.
A woman knelt before the totem, chanting in a tongue Amira did not understand—but somehow felt. The woman was young. Familiar. Her skin was dark like Amira's, her eyes fierce and grieving.
Then a baby's cry pierced the air.
The woman turned.
Amira gasped. It was her grandmother.
But younger. Stronger. Drenched in seaweed and blood.
In her arms was a newborn—Amira's mother.
The totem crackled with energy. And from the smoke, a figure rose—long-limbed, eyes like whirlpools, mouth filled with sharp fish-teeth.
"Do you offer her as promised?" it asked.
The young woman clutched the child closer. "No. I offer myself."
The spirit recoiled. "You break the pact."
"And I would break it a thousand times," she said, "to protect my bloodline."
The spirit howled, and the vision shattered.
Amira was back in the shrine, gasping. Elias caught her as she collapsed.
"What did you see?" he asked.
"My grandmother," she breathed. "She… she sacrificed herself to keep my mother—and me—free."
Elias nodded grimly. "Then the debt remains unpaid."
Amira looked at the totem. It was weeping now—dark water oozing from its carved eyes.
"I have to finish what she started," she whispered. "But I need to know everything. Who made the pact? What did they trade? And why are the spirits calling me now?"
Elias took her hand. "Then we return to the village. To the woman who never speaks."
Amira blinked. "Mama Ireti?"
He nodded. "She remembers the story no one dares tell. But if she breaks her silence… she might just save your soul."