CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: Where Water Remembers

The next morning came slow — sunlight filtered through the mist like it was afraid to touch the ground. The forest was quieter than the night before, but not in peace. It was the hush of something watching, something listening for the first misstep.

Liora hadn't slept.

She sat at the edge of the pool, legs folded beneath her, fingers tracing the edge where water met earth. The glyphs on her arms were still now, but her reflection in the water didn't quite match her — the face staring back was too old, too knowing, the kind of face that had looked at too many drowning mouths gasping for help.

Ranga stood a few steps away, leaning on his spear like he wasn't watching her. Except he was. He'd been watching all night.

"Don't you ever get tired?" Tafara muttered from where he was sprawled nearby, head propped against a root.

"Can't get tired when you're the future of all Hyena-kind," Ranga shot back, though the usual spark was dimmer than usual. "Besides…" His gaze flicked back to Liora. "Some things are worth losing sleep over."

Tafara made a gagging noise. "Simp."

"Legend," Ranga corrected. Then, quieter: "She's worth it."

The others were setting up camp further back, giving Liora space without saying it outright. Kael was sharpening his blade, but every scrape of metal against stone was deliberate — not just maintenance, but ritual. A way to focus his mind so it didn't drift back to what the Bvuri had whispered to him.

Nyeredzi sat with her back to a tree, her silver eye dim for once. Even she didn't press too close to Liora. Not after the pool.

Dendera stood guard, but it was a half-hearted stance. The real threat wasn't out there in the trees. It was sitting by the water, breathing softly, as if each breath might call something up from beneath.

Ranga couldn't take it anymore.

He walked up beside her, dropping into a squat with all the grace of a man born to tumble and roll. "Hey."

Liora's fingers paused in the mud. "Hey."

The silence stretched, but not unkindly. Ranga wasn't good at silence, but for her, he tried.

"You know," he said eventually, "you're kinda terrifying."

Her brow arched slightly, but her eyes stayed on the water. "That a compliment?"

"Absolutely." Ranga grinned, wide and toothy, all Hyena bravado. "I mean, I'm terrifying too, obviously. Chidawo now. Big deal and all that."

Liora's smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Of course."

"But you…" Ranga's grin faltered just slightly. "You scare my spirit."

That got her attention. She turned to face him, her gaze curious. "Your Hyena?"

"Yeah." He tapped his chest. "He's loud, right? Always laughing, always looking for the next scrap. But when you were… dancing with that thing last night?" His fingers curled unconsciously. "He wasn't laughing. Wasn't even growling. Just… quiet."

Liora's smile faded. "He's smart."

"Nah," Ranga said. "He's scared."

The words hung between them. Liora's fingers dipped back into the mud, tracing shapes she wasn't fully conscious of. Curves within curves, spirals swallowing themselves — the language of water that remembered every body it had ever taken.

"Do you know what I am?" she asked softly.

Ranga's mouth opened, but no joke came out. "You're Liora."

"That's part of it," she said. "But before that — before I was born — I belonged to her."

"Manjuzu."

Liora nodded. "My bloodline was tied to her long before I had a name. We were her dancers, her singers, the ones who stood at the edge of the river and called the lost souls home."

"That sounds… kinda beautiful."

"It was." Her voice softened. "Until the day someone refused to dance."

Ranga frowned. "What happened?"

Liora's reflection in the water flickered — not her, but a woman with her face, wearing beads carved from river stone, standing at the water's edge with her back to the tide.

"She broke the pact," Liora whispered. "She said no. And Manjuzu doesn't take no."

The reflection's feet slowly sank into the water, even as she stood still. The river claimed her piece by piece — legs, hips, chest — until only her face remained above the surface, eyes wide with fear.

"She was my ancestor," Liora said. "The first to refuse the dance."

"What did Manjuzu do to her?" Ranga asked quietly.

"She didn't drown." Liora's hand closed over her own wrist, fingers tight. "She became the river."

The air felt heavier, the mist curling tighter around them.

"I'm not a Chidawo," Liora said. "I'm not chosen by a totem or blessed by a spirit."

"Okay," Ranga said. "Then what are you?"

She turned to him fully, and for a moment, the glyphs on her skin shifted — no longer just ink, but ripples of light, moving like current beneath her skin.

"I'm a doorway," she said. "Every step I take, I'm walking the edge between the river and the world. If I fall too far in…"

Her hand lifted, fingers brushing Ranga's cheek. "I don't come back."

Ranga's throat went dry. "Then we don't let you fall."

Liora's smile was faint. "It's not that simple."

"Sure it is." Ranga stood, offering her his hand. "You got a Hyena watching your back. A Hyena who, by the way, is very handsome, very strong, and totally not afraid of ancient water gods."

She hesitated, then took his hand, rising to her feet.

"I'll hold on," Ranga said. "You just promise to reach back."

Her fingers squeezed his. "I'll try."

"That's all I need."

The forest exhaled, the mist pulling back just slightly. Somewhere beneath them, the water still remembered — every step, every breath, every dancer who chose the river's embrace or dared to turn away.

Liora was both.

And for the first time in generations, the river wasn't sure which way she'd go.

But no matter what the water decided, Ranga would be there — laughing, fighting, and if need be, drowning right beside her.

Because some legends start with a joke.

And some legends start with a hand that refuses to let go.