The Countdown

Chapter: 13 

Nine years had passed, and though the plantation remained largely unchanged, everything about me and Abeni was different. The endless days of training, sparring, and planning had molded us into something far beyond what we once were. The air was warm, the evening sun casting long shadows across the fields, and I leaned against the only tree in our training area, staring out at the plantation that had been both our cage and our proving ground.

In those nine years, Abeni and I had dedicated ourselves to mastering the remaining magic types and pushing our abilities far beyond what we'd ever thought possible. Fire, lightning, water, earth we controlled them all. I raised my hand, watching as a small ball of fire flickered into existence, hovering just above my palm. Its warmth was comforting, but it also reminded me of the power I had now, the control. With a flick of my wrist, I dispelled the flame, leaving only the faint smell of smoke in the air.

The sound of footsteps behind me drew my attention. I turned to see Abeni approaching, her confident stride unmistakable even before I saw her face.

"Hey, Abeni," I greeted, offering a slight smile.

"Yo," she replied with her usual nonchalant tone, though the glint in her eyes showed she was already thinking ahead, always calculating the next move.

At nineteen, Abeni had grown into a force to be reckoned with. Her once-tomboyish features had matured, though her fiery spirit remained as sharp as ever. She now wore her hair in long braids that cascaded down her back, her black locks framing her strong, angular face. Her brown eyes, once filled with youthful curiosity, now held a depth that only experience could bring. Dressed in the simple white dress that the African women on the plantation wore, she exuded a quiet strength. Her body had become fit and toned from years of hard work and even harder training. She was every bit as formidable as I was if not more so, in some ways.

I, too, had changed. At thirteen, I now stood taller, my shoulders broader, my muscles defined from years of labor and training. My dark skin gleamed under the sun, and my dreadlocks, which had grown to reach my shoulders, swung slightly as I moved. I wore the male slave attire, a simple pair of trousers and a loose shirt, though both were now tailored to fit my growing body. I no longer felt like a child, and every inch of me was ready for what was to come.

Abeni settled next to me, her gaze shifting out to the plantation, her mind undoubtedly racing with the same thoughts as mine.

"So, Kael," she began, her voice softer now, "when are we leaving?"

"A week from now," I replied, my tone steady. The plan was set, and there was no turning back.

Abeni nodded, absorbing the weight of my words before asking, "So what do we do until then?"

I glanced over at her, thinking about what lay ahead. We'd be leaving everything behind this life, these people, our memories of this place. It wasn't much of a home, but it was all we'd known. I wanted to make sure that when we left, we had no regrets.

"Make as many memories here as possible," I said, my voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. "Because after we leave, we won't be here for a few years. That's what I'm going to do."

Abeni raised an eyebrow. "Make memories, huh?"

"Yeah," I replied, glancing down at the dirt beneath my feet. "We may not like this place, but the people here are our people. Might as well leave with some good memories to soften the blow."

She thought for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. I'll do that too."

The following morning, the sun was already beating down hard by the time I made my way to the fields. Today was different, though. Today, I wanted to spend as much time as possible with my mother. Ever since I had turned thirteen, I had been relocated to work closely with her in the plantation fields. It wasn't something I particularly looked forward to—manual labor under the oppressive gaze of the overseers—but it gave me the chance to be with her, to share in the small moments of normalcy that existed between the lines of hardship.

My mother had aged in the nine years since I had been reborn here. Her once-strong face was now etched with lines of weariness, and her dark brown eyes—though still filled with warmth—carried the weight of years spent in servitude. Her long, black hair, once full and vibrant, was streaked with gray, tied back in a simple knot to keep it out of the way while she worked. Even so, there was still something unbreakable about her spirit, something that had kept her going all these years.

We worked side by side, silently cutting down the sugarcane and placing it in the large baskets at our feet. Every now and then, I'd glance over at her, watching the way she moved with precision, each stroke of her machete clean and efficient.

"You're doing well, Kael," she said, her voice breaking the silence as she looked up at me. "You've grown so much."

I smiled, wiping the sweat from my brow. "Thanks, Mama. You've taught me well."

She chuckled softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Taught you? All I've done is show you how to survive. Everything else you've figured out on your own."

I paused, thinking about the truth in her words. So much of what I had become had been because of my own determination, my own desire to escape this life. But without her, without her quiet strength and the love she'd shown me in her own way, I wouldn't be who I was today.

"I couldn't have done it without you," I admitted, surprising myself with the sincerity of my words.

She stopped working for a moment, looking at me with a mix of pride and sadness. "You're a good boy, Kael. You always have been."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I just smiled and nodded, the lump in my throat making it hard to speak.

The next day, I found myself spending more time with my mother again, this time helping her with tasks outside the fields. We carried water from the nearby river to the other women who were washing clothes, the cool breeze a welcome respite from the usual heat.

As we walked back, my mother began telling me stories from her past—things I had never known about her. She spoke of her childhood, of the time before she had been taken, of the friends she had lost along the way. Her voice was soft, almost wistful, as if she were trying to hold onto the memories even as they slipped through her fingers.

I listened quietly, absorbing every word. I hadn't realized just how much she had endured, how much she had sacrificed. It made me appreciate her even more, and it fueled my determination to make sure she never had to suffer again.

On the third day, I decided to surprise my mother. After working in the fields for a few hours, I managed to sneak away during one of the breaks. Using the wind magic I had mastered, I gathered a few small flowers that grew near the plantation, weaving them together into a simple, yet beautiful, garland.

When I returned to my mother, I approached her quietly and placed the garland around her neck. She looked down, surprised, her fingers brushing against the soft petals.

"For you, Mama," I said, smiling as she looked up at me, her eyes wide with gratitude.

"Kael…" she whispered, her voice catching in her throat.

"It's not much," I admitted, "but I wanted to give you something, just to say thank you."

She reached up and touched the garland gently, her lips trembling with emotion. "Thank you, Kael. It's beautiful."

For the rest of the day, she wore the garland proudly, her eyes shining a little brighter, and in that moment, I knew I had made a memory that neither of us would forget.

Chapter 13: End