The trio traveled eastward for days, crossing the ruined plains of Agbenu, where once rice fields stretched as far as the sky. Now, the land was cracked like old pottery, scattered with bones too dry to rot. Every few miles, they found remnants of life - the wreckage of carts, faded prayer cloths, a child's sandal half-buried in dust.
Even the wind carried mourning.
Still, Nnamdi led with quiet determination, his steps slow but steady. Ifeanyi scouted ahead, moving like a blade through the silence. And Adanna, ever watching, kept the balance. Where shadows lingered, she sang. Where wounds festered, she healed. Her light had grown dimmer since the last battle, but her smile remained - the kind only those who've tasted death and returned still wear.
But the shadows were not done with them.
They came under the cover of a new moon, as the trio camped beneath the twisted limbs of a baobab tree. The air grew still - not calm, but expectant, like the breath before a scream.
Then, they struck.
The ground beneath them cracked open and from it burst a swarm of lesser Shadow-Born, smaller but faster, arms like spider legs and faces that split sideways to reveal rows of blackened bone. They moved not in chaos, but with purpose - guided, perhaps, by something deeper.
Nnamdi leapt into battle first, blades flashing like twin meteors. Ifeanyi followed with a roar, Machete spinning as he split one creature in two.
Adanna raised her staff, the light within it flickering, and whispered a prayer to her father, Obaluaye.
But this time, the gods did not answer fast enough.
From behind, a Shadow-Born rose from the ground like smoke solidifying. It moved silently, coiling behind her before she could turn.
Then - a slash.
A scream.
Adanna fell.
Nnamdi shouted her name, cutting through three of the creatures to reach her. Blood seeped into the dry soil, too much and too fast.
"No-no, no, Adanna-" he cradled her, his face streaked with dirt and disbelief.
Ifeanyi roared in rage and desperation, cleaving the last shadow creature apart, panting, wild-eyed. "We can save her. She's the daughter of a god. She can't just-"
But her light was fading. The staff cracked, and the glow bled out.
Adanna looked up at them, weak but smiling. "Tell the land... I tried."
And then her eyes closed.
The world went silent.
No wind. No flame. Not even breath.
And then - a whisper.
Not from above. From beneath.
The ground shifted.
Vines slithered from cracks. Leaves sprouted from dry bark. And from the treeline, wrapped in a cloak of living moss and bone charms, came a woman.
She was tall, wrapped in green and grey, her dark skin painted with streaks of ash and ochre. Around her neck hung teeth - not of beasts, but of ancient things. Ravens circled above her, and the ground itself seemed to listen with every step she took.
"I heard her cry," the woman said, her voice like roots breaking stone. "And the land answered."
Nnamdi stood, blade raised. "Who are you?"
She looked past him, to Adanna's still body. "A friend of those between worlds."
She knelt beside the fallen daughter of Obaluaye and placed her hand upon her chest. The soil trembled. Trees groaned. Spirits stirred. The very air shifted.
"Her thread hasn't snapped," the woman whispered. "Only tangled."
She drew a dagger made of petrified wood and cut her palm. Blood fell - not red, but green, glowing faintly.
"Spirit of ash and flame,
Child of root and river,
Return to the breath,
By blood and bone,
By root and sky,
Come back."
A wind rose.
From the earth, spirits emerged - translucent, gentle, faceless. They surrounded the body, humming in unison, and where they passed, the blood stopped flowing.
Adanna gasped.
Once.
Twice.
Then her chest rose.
She opened her eyes, dazed, and looked into the face of the stranger.
"You called me back..."
The woman smiled. "The land did. I only listened."
Adanna sat up slowly, the glow returning to her skin. The staff in her hand pulsed whole again.
"Who are you?" Ifeanyi asked, voice cautious.
The woman stood. "My name is Amahle. I speak with the dead, walk with the forgotten, and know the names of the trees and the secrets of the stones."
She looked at them all.
"You walk a path that is not yet written. But it is watched. I will walk it with you - if you'll have me."
Nnamdi glanced at Adanna. At Ifeanyi. Then back at Amahle.
"You brought back our sister," he said. "You walk with us now."
Amahle nodded. "Good. You'll need me."
And as the wind rose again, they looked toward the east.
Where darker things waited.
Where the gods held their breath.
Where legends were still being born.