The morning mist clung to the air like breath held too long. Nkosana stood motionless, staring at his dirt-covered hands. Around him, the graveyard was silent—but not still. The wind had a voice now, and it whispered only one name: *"Nkosana…"*
He looked down.
The soil around his mother's grave was disturbed—fresh. Not dug, not shoveled—*pushed outward from within.*
A cold wave ran through his spine. He tried to step back, but the earth groaned beneath him.
Behind him, the village bells began to ring. That meant one thing: *a body had been found.*
Back in the village, panic was already spreading. A hunter had stumbled upon the body of Sizwe—the boy who'd bullied Nkosana for years. His corpse was twisted, not just broken. His mouth stretched open unnaturally wide, as if he had screamed until something *crawled out of him*.
Carved into his chest with something clawed and burning was a single word:
*"RETURN."*
The village council gathered. They demanded Gogo Zanele to speak. She didn't. She *chanted*.
"The child bears the Mark of the Hollow. The ancient gate stirs. The blood debt returns…"
Nkosana, still at the graveyard, looked up at the sky.
And the sky blinked back.