SECTION 3
That night, as the village settled into sleep, the whisper came again softer this time, almost tender. It curled through the raffia mat beneath her head, slipped beneath her dreams, and touched her with a strange familiarity.
Come.
The word wasn't spoken; it was felt like a hand brushing her shoulder in a dark room. She sat up sharply, her breath thin in her chest. Outside, the moon hung low, swollen, its pale light trembling on the surface of the river.
She stepped to the doorway of her hut. The night insects hummed, stubborn in their rhythm, as if nothing unusual was happening. But she knew better. Something had awakened something old, patient, and watching.
At the riverbank, the water moved differently. Not in waves or ripples, but in patterns as though it were breathing. She felt the pull again, deep inside her bones, the whisper sliding through her ribs like smoke.
You have heard me. Now you must answer.
Her heart hammered. She wanted to turn back, to run into the safety of her mother's arms, to bury her face in warm, familiar scents. But she stayed. Her feet refused to move away.
Slowly, she knelt, her fingers brushing the cool surface.
The river sighed.
And for the first time, it spoke not in whispers
but in a voice she understood.night deepened, and the whispering river seemed to pulse with a life of its own. She stepped closer to the water, the cold air brushing against her skin like a warning. Something in the depths called to her, a voice neither harsh nor gentle, but impossibly compelling.
Her reflection shimmered and warped in the ripples, as if the river itself were trying to speak through her own eyes. She wanted to look away, but an invisible tether held her gaze. Every instinct screamed retreat, yet her feet moved forward, carrying her to the edge of the unknown.
A sudden flicker of light danced across the water brief, fleeting and she caught a glimpse of something she could not name: a figure, or perhaps a shadow, moving just beneath the surface. Her heart pounded, a rhythm in sync with the river's whisper, and a thought struck her sharply. this is no ordinary night. The river is awake.
Then, the whisper came again, closer now, curling around her ears like smoke. Do you remember? it asked, the voice oddly familiar, almost like her own.
Her breath caught. She did remember fragments, images of a past she had long buried. The river, the village, the faces that had disappeared from memory… all converging in a single, impossible moment.
And as the moonlight reflected off the restless water, she realized with a chilling clarity: the river had not just begun to speak it had been waiting for her