Chapter: 12
Amara had never noticed before. Every leaf seemed to hold a whisper, every rustle of wind a secret meant only for her. She had walked these woods countless times, yet tonight felt different. The air was thick, heavy with expectation, and the fading light of dusk painted everything in a golden haze.
The river waited. She had always known it would not in thought, but in a way that seemed written in her very bones. As she approached the water's edge, she felt a pull, subtle but undeniable, tugging at her heart. It was not merely a place it was a presence, a consciousness that had lingered through seasons, watching, waiting.
Her first step into the shallow water sent a shiver through her body. The river was cold, but not harsh it embraced her like an old friend. As her fingers brushed the surface, she saw movement within the depths not fish, not shadows, but images, fleeting and vivid. She caught glimpses of people she had never met, landscapes she had never walked, and moments that felt both ancient and immediate.
A sudden warmth spread from her fingertips through her arms, a pulse that seemed alive. The river's voice, soft and melodic, filled her mind. You have come.
Amara's breath caught. The words were not spoken aloud, yet they resonated as if she had been waiting her entire life to hear them. Yes, she whispered back, though the forest held no one to hear her. I am here.
The water's glow deepened, wrapping around her ankles, drawing her further in. She felt the current lift her slightly, guiding her toward the center, where the river widened and shimmered like liquid silver. And then the visions began in earnest.
She saw herself, standing in the village she had left behind, watching friends and family move on without her. She saw moments of joy and sorrow, mistakes and triumphs, all intertwining in a pattern she could not yet understand. Shadows flickered at the edge of her vision figures of doubt, fear, and regret but beneath them all was a quiet strength, a spark she had ignored for too long.
Do not run, the river whispered. Do not hide. Face what you have buried.
Amara's heart raced. She had spent years avoiding her own truths, dressing up fears in layers of routine and distraction. But here, in the river's embrace, there was no escaping herself. The current tugged gently, not with force, but with insistence, and she let it carry her deeper, letting the water guide her gaze inward as much as outward.
Her reflection shimmered on the surface, but it was not quite her own. The eyes were familiar, yet strange full of questions she had never dared to ask. Who am I, really?the reflection seemed to ask. Amara swallowed hard. The river had chosen her, yes but what did it truly want from her?
You seek answers, the voice said again, this time clearer, like a melody threading through the rush of water. But answers are not given they are earned. To walk my path, you must first see yourself.
A shiver ran through her, not from the cold but from understanding. This was no ordinary river; it was a test, a mirror, a guide and perhaps a judge. Every memory, every fear, every hope would be laid bare before her.
Amara closed her eyes and let the water flow around her, letting it soothe the tremor in her hands and settle the storm in her chest. She imagined the river as a living thing, a patient teacher waiting for her to take the first step. And when she opened her eyes, she was ready.
The river parted before her vision, revealing a deep channel that glowed with a soft golden light. Within it, shapes moved some human, some not but all alive with purpose. She could feel them pulling her forward, not with force, but with an unspoken invitation. And for the first time in her life, Amara felt the thrill of stepping into something bigger than herself, a journey that would demand everything she had and perhaps show her everything she could be.