The rain came down hard, like the sky had been holding back its grief all week and had finally decided to mourn. I stood at the door, bag in hand, fully dressed and ready to face the mountain again. My feet hesitated. The last time I had gone up there, I had not returned the same. The earth had moved beneath me. Literally. I'd never admit it out loud, but I was shaken—deeply. That kind of shaking doesn't just rattle your bones. It unsettles your soul.
I needed to make it right. Gogo Nomusa had sent me there for answers, and I came back with more questions. Worse, I had lost the herbs she gave me. My hands were not steady enough to carry what she had trusted me with. I owed her a return, and I owed myself redemption.
But the weather betrayed me.
One moment the skies were just moody. The next, thunder cracked like an ancient whip across the heavens. The clouds roared with laughter, like they were mocking me. And the rain—Yho! The rain came with fury, not grace. I stepped back inside, defeated by the storm, the door still half open, droplets painting the floor like a warning.
Then I heard it.
"Jika uqalaze!"
It wasn't the thunder. It wasn't the wind. It was a voice, as clear as it was soaked in mystery. It rose from the raindrops themselves, like each droplet was speaking at once. And somehow… I knew it.
"uNobutshaka?" I whispered, my voice trembling more than I cared to admit.
Yes, it was her. The water spirit. She had revealed herself to me once before—elegant, strong, ancient. But now her voice carried the innocence of a child, a strange contrast that made my skin prickle. It wasn't just the chill of wet air; it was recognition. She was calling me back—but to what?
Suddenly, my mind flicked through memory like a scratched DVD. A dream I had months ago. No… not a dream. A memory dressed as one. My old girlfriend. The one I left behind in Johannesburg.
Zinhle.
I hadn't thought of her in so long. Not really. I buried her in my past, along with that whole life—guns, shadows, regrets. She had stood by me when I was nothing but fire and smoke. And then I vanished, thinking I was doing her a favour. But now? Now I could feel her energy like she was standing just behind me. Something wasn't done between us. Something unspoken was clawing its way back.
She must know something. Maybe she had been touched by this too. The spiritual, the mystical, the forgotten truths. Or maybe she was simply part of the story I was too scared to tell myself.
"Gogo Nomusa will know," I said to myself, grabbing my phone to call her. But not even the network was with me. No signal. No bars. Nothing. Like even technology had bowed out of this moment. That unsettled me more than I could say.
I paced. My thoughts were loud, louder than the storm outside.
Why now? Why her? Why that voice?
I sat down on the floor, closed my eyes, and tried to breathe. The ground didn't shake this time. But inside, I was trembling. The calling wasn't just about herbs or mountains. It wasn't just about me.
Something was being stitched together again—dreams, voices, spirits, women I had wronged, and those who had watched over me.
And somewhere in all of it… I had to look back.