The River Knows

 Kaelo rose before dawn, carrying the bracelet in one hand and the wooden carving in the other. He didn't need Mambé to tell him where to go next.

The second path, the second trial it would be the river.

The old one. The one that ran behind the village, winding through the land like a serpent of memory. It was said to have eyes. It was said to remember every soul that ever bathed in it, wept beside it, or bled into its banks.

Kaelo had done all three.

He reached the water by sunrise.

Mist hung low over the surface, curling like incense smoke. The trees whispered, though no wind stirred them. And Kaelo knelt, not at the edge, but waist-deep in the water, letting the current wrap around his legs.

He held the bracelet up and said Mama Naa's name.

Then his mother's.

And then his own.

The water stilled.

Behind him footsteps. On water.

Kaelo turned.

Anoku stood a few paces away, barefoot on the river itself, as if it were solid ground. This time he wore a white cloth over one shoulder, a thin chain around his neck. The look in his eyes was calm. Too calm.

"You are doing well," he said.

Kaelo didn't answer.

"You think this will delay me," Anoku continued, stepping closer, the water not even rippling beneath him. "But you are feeding me with every memory you reclaim.

Kaelo held the bracelet tighter. "Maybe. But I'm not letting you take everything.

"You think your will is stronger than mine?" Anoku asked. "Your people once worshipped me. They spilled blood for me. And now… you can't even speak my name without trembling.

"I'm not them," Kaelo said, standing now, chest-deep in water.

"No," Anoku agreed. "You're more.

He stepped onto the shore, eyes still locked on Kaelo. "You carry not just my name. You carry my right to return. Your body is my altar. Your voice my bell.

Kaelo's voice was shaking. "Why me?"

Anoku paused.

And then, for the first time, he looked almost human. Almost… tired.

"Because I waited," he said softly. "I waited for a soul that remembered pain, but did not rot from it. I waited for someone born of broken lines and silenced names. You… are the end and the beginning.

Kaelo wanted to scream, to fight, but his limbs were trembling. The river behind him pulsed with old, ancient force.

And then

He heard it. A woman's voice. From beneath the water.

"Kaelo," it whispered. Hold fast.

He turned just as the current rose, swirled around him, and dragged him under.

He sank through river, through time.

Flashes again.

His mother's hands. The fire. Mama Naa's chants. Anoku's face, younger, angrier, wounded.

A great door. Bound in salt and flame.

And Kaelo at its threshold.

He reached for it.

Something snapped.

He burst from the river coughing, soaked and gasping. In his hand, the bracelet had changed cracked open, revealing a hollow core, and inside, a single white stone smooth, humming, warm.

Mambé was waiting at the shore.

"You passed," she said.

Kaelo stumbled to her. He's getting stronger.

"Yes," she said. But so are you.

She handed him a cloth to dry off. "The last place… will not be found on any map. It is a place only you can enter."

Kaelo looked up, chest still heaving.

Where?

Mambé's voice was steady. "Where you were born.

Kaelo frowned. Mama Naa's house?

"No," she said. Before that. The place where you were first marked. The hidden altar. The root of it all.

That night, Kaelo sat by the fire with the bracelet, the white stone, the carving and the mask.

It had returned again. Not to the altar this time, but to the center of his mat.

Waiting.

Breathing.