Chapter: 8
The wind whispered through the trees as Amara made her way toward the small hut at the edge of the village. She had heard the rumors the old woman who spoke to the river, the one who knew things no one else could but nothing could have prepared her for the presence that awaited her.
Elder Nneka sat on a carved wooden stool, her hands folded in her lap, eyes closed as if listening to a song only she could hear. When she opened them, Amara felt the weight of those eyes settle on her, piercing yet strangely comforting.You have come,Nneka said softly, her voice carrying a resonance that seemed to echo in the very air. The river has been speaking of you for many nights. And you, child, have been listening even when you did not know it.
Elder Nneka rose slowly, each movement deliberate, as if she carried the weight of decades in her bones. She walked to a small table, dust motes dancing in the moonlight, and picked up a faded wooden box.
Inside this, she said, opening it carefully, are things that belonged to your mother. She too heard the river, just as you do now. She believed it called her to something greater something she could not resist.
Amara stepped closer, her hands trembling. My mother she never spoke of the river to me.
Nneka's lips pressed into a thin line, a shadow of sadness passing over her face. Because she feared what it would demand of you. The river does not call out of kindness it tests, it challenges, it reveals. But it also shows who we truly are.
She lifted a delicate pendant from the box. This was hers. When you wear it, the river will recognize you. And it will guide you if you are brave enough to follow.
Amara reached out, fingers brushing the cool metal. A shiver ran through her, as if the river itself had acknowledged her touch. The air around them seemed to pulse with expectation, and she knew, deep down, that her life was about to change forever.
You must decide,Nneka said softly, whether to step into the river's truth or turn away and live in shadows of what might have been.
Amara's throat tightened. I, I don't understand. It calls me, but I don't know why.
Nneka's gaze softened, but the seriousness remained. The river calls only those ready to see. And you, Amara, are standing at the edge of your own truth. What you find there will change everything.
The night air was thick with the scent of wet earth and moss as Amara approached the riverbank. The pendant lay heavy against her chest, a steady warmth that seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat. She could hear it then the river's song soft, alluring, yet carrying an undeniable urgency.
Stepping closer, she felt the water's cool fingers brush her ankles, as if welcoming her. Her reflection shimmered in the moonlight, fragmented and wavering, and for a moment she hesitated. What if she was not ready? What if the river demanded more than she could give?
Then a whisper, carried on the water, wrapped around her name Amara
Her fear dissolved, replaced by a strange certainty. She lifted her hand and let the pendant swing over the surface. The water responded, glowing faintly under the moon, ripples forming patterns that seemed almost like words written in light.
A voice, neither male nor female, spoke inside her mind, calm yet commanding:
You have come. You seek the truth. Are you willing to see what lies beneath?
Amara swallowed hard. Her fingers tightened around the pendant. Yes,she whispered, and with that, she stepped fully into the river.
The water enveloped her like a living thing, cold and tender all at once. Memories she had long forgotten surged to the surface: laughter, tears, loss, and hope intertwined. Every heartbeat seemed to echo with a rhythm older than time itself. And in that moment, Amara knew that she was no longer merely a girl of the village she was a woman connected to something far greater, something that would shape not only her destiny but the destiny of those who came after her