Chapter 3: The Rift Opens

The moment my mother spoke those words, something inside me shifted.

It wasn't just knowledge.

It was like a door had been forced open in my mind. And something was waiting on the other side.

For a moment, the kitchen seemed… off. The fire's glow flickered strangely, stretching our shadows longer than they should be. The steam rising from the kunu pot twisted in unnatural patterns.

I swallowed, gripping my knees. "Mama… what do you mean?"

She pressed her lips together, eyes darting to the doorway—as if someone might be listening. Then she shook her head. "It's better you don't ask any more questions, Nasir."

"But Mama—"

"No." Her voice was sharp, final. "Go to bed. We will not speak of this again."

Something about the way she said it sent a cold shiver down my spine.

---

I lay on my mat, staring at the ceiling. My body was still, but my mind was racing. My mother had told me just enough to shake me, but not enough to satisfy me.

Why was she so afraid?

And why did it feel like something was watching me?

The air in the room had changed. It was the same kind of silence I had felt in my dreams—heavy, unnatural, listening.

I sat up slowly. The only light came from the faint glow of the dying embers outside my window. The village was quiet. Even the usual nighttime sounds—the distant bleating of goats, the rustling of dry leaves—had vanished.

Then, in the farthest corner of my room, the shadows moved.

I froze.

For a moment, I thought it was a trick of the dim light. But then—it moved again.

Not like a normal shadow.

It pulled itself upward, stretching, forming the outline of something standing.

My breath stopped.

I could hear it now.

Breathing.

Slow, deliberate, not my own.

It was here.

With me.

Watching.

Waiting.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My hands trembled as I reached for the wooden staff I kept near my mat—not that it would help against something like this.

Then—a voice.

Not out loud.

Not in my ears.

Inside me.

"Nasir…"

The voice was neither deep nor high. It was… hollow. Like wind whistling through an empty gourd.

"Why do you seek what is hidden?"

I clenched my jaw. "Who are you?"

The shadow twitched, its form shifting as if the question unsettled it. Then, slowly, it took a step toward me.

My body screamed at me to run, but my legs felt like stone.

"You see us now," the voice whispered. "The more you seek, the clearer we become."

The air in the room thickened, pressing against my skin.

"Turn away now, and we will let you be."

My fingers tightened around the staff. Let me be?

So it was true.

I wasn't just imagining things.

The unseen was real.

And it knew I could see it.

"Leave," I said, my voice shaking.

The shadow took another step forward.

"Do you think you can command us?"

Something unseen pressed against my chest—cold, suffocating. My vision blurred. My body felt like it was being dragged downward, like I was sinking into the earth itself.

Then—

A bang.

A sudden force slammed into the room, knocking over the clay water pot in the corner. The pressure on my chest vanished instantly. The shadow reeled back, twisting violently.

And then—it was gone.

The air rushed back into my lungs.

I fell forward, coughing, gasping, alive.

Outside, the village had come back to life. The leaves rustled again. The distant sound of a baby crying drifted through the air. The world had returned to normal.

But I knew the truth.

Nothing was normal anymore.

---

At dawn, I walked to the well, splashing cold water on my face, my hands still shaking.

I knew now why my father had been afraid.

Why my mother had refused to speak.

Because once you saw them, they saw you too.

And now, they knew my name.

---

I could pretend this never happened. I could obey my mother, ignore the dreams, and hope the shadows would forget me.

Or…

I could find out what I really was.

The old woman.

The one who came before my birth.

She had known something.

And I was certain we would meet again.