CHAPTER: 14
Night fell like a heavy curtain, thick and breathless, wrapping the village in a silence that felt unnatural. Even the insects, usually loud in their nightly chorus, seemed to hold their breath. Amara sat by the riverbank, her feet grazing the cool water, her mind wrestling with everything she had learned.
The river shimmered under the moonlight, alive with a strange glow. It was not the calm sparkle of reflected light this was deeper, pulsing, as though something beneath the surface was breathing.
Amara closed her eyes, letting the whispers rise.
Come closer.
She stiffened. The voice was no longer a distant murmur. It was clear now, shaped by memory, carrying a sadness that clung to her skin like mist. She leaned forward slightly, breath trembling.
Show me who you are, Amara whispered in her mind.
The water stirred.
Then slowly so slowly a gasp slipped from her lips a figure began to form beneath the surface. A woman's shape, graceful, hair floating like strands of dark smoke, her arms extended as though reaching for help or offering it.
Amara's heart hammered. Who are you?
The woman lifted her face, and moonlight slid across features both beautiful and broken. But it was the eyes that struck Amara still they held centuries of unsaid truths, of love, loss, and longing. Eyes that knew her.
You see me at last,the woman said, her voice echoing both in the air and inside Amara's soul. I am Adaora the one who came before you.
Amara's breath caught. The chosen one who disappeared.
You didn't run, Amara whispered. The river took you.
Adaora's expression darkened with sorrow. I did not disappear. I became what the river needed and what the village feared. I saw a truth too heavy to carry alone. I refused it, and the river claimed me.
The river hummed around them, as if remembering the moment.
Amara's voice shook. Why are you showing yourself to me now?
Because the darkness I fled from has returned. And this time, if you turn away Adaora's form flickered, the water trembling, there will be no one left to save.
A chill sliced down Amara's spine.
What darkness? she asked.
Adaora's eyes lifted a storm gathering within them. The curse born from betrayal. The one tied to your bloodline.
My bloodline? Amara whispered, stunned.
Yes, Adaora breathed. Your mother knew. Your grandmother knew. And now you must face the truth they hid.
The water surged, wrapping Adaora's form in spirals of glowing blue, as though time itself was pulling her back.
Amara reached out without thinking. No wait. Don't go.
Adaora's hand brushed hers cold, trembling, desperate.
Find the stone, she whispered. Before he does.
He Amara choked. Who is he?
But Adaora was already sinking, her voice fading like a dying echo.
Find the stone or all will drown.
The water fell still, the glow fading.
Amara remained frozen, hand hovering over the surface, eyes wide with fear, grief, and a new, fierce determination.
She did not understand everything.
But she knew one thing with absolute certainty.
Her family had lied.
The past was no longer sleeping.
And the river was done.
Amara stood at the edge of the water, her reflection fractured by the ripples, as if the river itself was trying to show her pieces of a truth she had long avoided. Each wave whispered secrets she had feared to confront. Faces she had once trusted now swirled in the currents smiling, shouting, pleading reminding her of the fragile walls she had built around her heart.
She clenched her fists, tasting the bitterness of betrayal and the sharp ache of longing all at once. The voices of her family's deceptions mingled with the river's murmur, a chorus she could no longer ignore. One by one, the illusions she had held onto began to crumble, falling into the water with quiet splashes.
And then, as if responding to her own resolve, the river surged forward. It pulled her gaze toward the horizon, where light broke through the clouds, streaking the water with silver and gold. A part of her wanted to retreat, to hide from the truths waiting to rise to the surface. Yet another, fiercer part, whispered that she could no longer be a passive witness to her own story.
Amara took a deep breath, feeling the cold spray against her face. This was no longer just a river. It was a reckoning. And she would answer its call.
The village seemed quieter than usual, as if it, too, had sensed the shift. Windows shuttered, doors locked, and yet, Amara felt no fear only a strange clarity. She knew the river's warning was not meant to frighten her; it demanded she remember, confront, and decide.
Memories she had buried for years began to surface unbidden. The lull of her mother's soft hum that once soothed her now twisted into a haunting echo, filled with half-truths and omissions. Her father's stern eyes flashed in her mind, masking guilt with discipline. Each memory was a thread, and together they wove a tapestry of deception she had to unravel.
She turned away from the river briefly and saw the path to her home. Every step felt heavier, as if the weight of truth had begun to anchor her to the earth itself. She entered the small courtyard, and there they were her family frozen in anticipation. Their smiles, brittle and rehearsed, faltered when they noticed the steel in her gaze.
Amara her mother began, but the river's roar echoed in her ears, drowning out the words.
I know, she said, her voice steadier than she expected. I know everything.
Her father's hand trembled as he lowered it from his chest, the gesture of defense giving way to the subtle quiver of guilt. Her siblings shifted uncomfortably, unsure if they should intervene or retreat. Amara's heart ached with the familiarity of their fear, but it was not sympathy she felt it was resolve.
You lied, she continued, pacing slowly across the courtyard. All of you. And the river it has been waiting for me, not for your excuses.
Her mother's eyes filled with tears, but Amara did not falter. She had waited long enough for the truth to rise to the surface, and now it had. The river had chosen her as its witness, and she could no longer deny its call.
A sudden wind swept through the courtyard, rustling leaves and carrying the scent of the river upstream. Amara felt it stir something deep within her a memory of the day she first touched the water, when she had felt an unspoken promise that life was both fragile and infinite.
The past doesn't stay buried, she whispered, more to herself than to them. It comes back whether you are ready or not. And I ,I am ready.
Her mother reached out, trembling. Amara, please it wasn't what you think
It was exactly what I think, Amara replied, her eyes locked on the horizon where the river shimmered like liquid fire. And now, we either face it, or we continue to drown in lies.
The river surged as if in approval. Amara could feel it wrapping around her ankles, urging her forward, reminding her that the choice was hers. She took a step toward it and then another. With each movement, the deception of the past peeled away, layer by layer, until she felt nothing but the raw, unfiltered truth.
For the first time in years, she felt free.
This sets up a turning point for Amara,her confrontation with her family and the river's mystical power.
Amara stood at the edge of the river, its waters shimmering under the pale moonlight, as if aware of the storm brewing inside her. Her family's words long-held secrets, half-truths, and veiled threats echoed in her mind, but the river whispered a different story, one that promised clarity and courage.
Her father's stern face appeared in her memory, his disappointment like a weight pressing down on her chest. You don't understand, Amara, he had said. Some things are better left buried. But the river, with its rhythmic flow, seemed to call her to something greater, something she had never dared imagine.freedom from fear, freedom from silence.
As she stepped closer, the water rippled in response, glowing faintly with a light that seemed to come from within. She reached out, letting her fingers brush the surface, and a sudden warmth surged through her. Images flashed her ancestors, strong and unyielding, bending but never breaking beneath the pressures of their world. And in that moment, Amara realized she was not alone; she carried their strength, and now, the river's power.
Turning to face her family, she saw the fear in their eyes not just at the river, but at her awakening. I will not be hidden anymore,she said, her voice steady, even as her heart raced. I will not live in the shadows of your secrets.
The air seemed to thrum with tension, the boundary between what was human and what was mystical almost dissolving. The river's voice, once a whisper, rose into a commanding hum, urging Amara forward. And in that moment, the path before her was clear.she would confront the past, embrace her destiny, and let the river guide her to the life she was meant to claim.
Amara's family stood frozen, their eyes wide with disbelief as she stepped fully into the moonlight, her presence somehow magnified by the river's glow. Her mother's lips trembled, and her father's hand clenched into a fist, but no words came.
I've carried your silence for too long,Amara said, her voice clear and unwavering.All the lies, the hidden truths, the fears you imposed on me it ends tonight.
Her older brother, usually so confident, took a cautious step forward. Amara, you don't understand what you're meddling with. Some things are dangerous .
But before he could finish, the river responded. Its waters surged, curling into shapes that mirrored Amara's emotions: anger, sorrow, and the determination that had grown inside her like a wildfire. Sparks of light danced on the surface, reflecting in her family's eyes. They flinched instinctively, unable to look away.
You don't get to decide for me anymore,she said, feeling the river pulse through her veins like an extension of her own heartbeat. I am not your shadow, not your secret. I am Amara and I am free.
Her father's stern expression faltered, replaced by a mixture of fear and awe. This this isn't natural,he whispered, his voice shaky.
It's exactly natural, Amara replied. It's who I am. And the river it has chosen me, as it has chosen those before me. You can try to fight it, fight me but you will not silence what is meant to flow.
For a long moment, silence stretched between them, thick and tense. Then, slowly, her mother lowered her gaze, tears glistening. We we didn't know, she murmured. We only wanted to protect you.
Amara's heart ached at the words, but she did not step back. Instead, she let the river's warmth wash over her, grounding her. Protection should never come at the cost of truth, she said gently, but firmly. I forgive you but I will not forget. And I will not stay hidden any longer.
The river rippled, a soft, approving hum echoing in her ears, as if acknowledging her courage. For the first time, Amara felt the full weight of her destiny, balanced by the exhilaration of freedom. Tonight, the river had spoken and she had answered.
Amara stood at the edge of the river, its waters shimmering under the pale moonlight, as if aware of the storm brewing inside her. Her family's words long held secrets, half-truths, and veiled threats echoed in her mind, but the river whispered a different story, one that promised clarity and courage.
Her father's stern face appeared in her memory, his disappointment like a weight pressing down on her chest. You don't understand, Amara, he had said. Some things are better left buried. But the river, with its rhythmic flow, seemed to call her to something greater, something she had never dared imagine: freedom from fear, freedom from silence.
As she stepped closer, the water rippled in response, glowing faintly with a light that seemed to come from within. She reached out, letting her fingers brush the surface, and a sudden warmth surged through her. Images flashed her ancestors, strong and unyielding, bending but never breaking beneath the pressures of their world. And in that moment, Amara realized she was not alone; she carried their strength, and now, the river's power.
Turning to face her family, she saw the fear in their eyes not just at the river, but at her awakening. I will not be hidden anymore, she said, her voice steady, even as her heart raced. I will not live in the shadows of your secrets.
The air seemed to thrum with tension, the boundary between what was human and what was mystical almost dissolving. The river's voice, once a whisper, rose into a commanding hum, urging Amara forward. And in that moment, the path before her was clear: she would confront the past, embrace her destiny, and let the river guide her to the life she was meant to claim.