chapter seventeen

Chapter 17:

Whispers from the Roots

The train ride back to their homeland was long, winding through mountains and valleys bathed in gold and fog.

It had been years since any of them had set foot on that soil.

And none of them knew what waited for them there.

Xoxo sat by the window, watching the scenery blur past. Her heart was heavy with questions.

Would the people remember her?

Would they still curse her name?

Would they recognize the daughters she had raised in secret?

Her fingers absentmindedly brushed the Seal of Ndụ hidden beneath her blouse. Its faint warmth pulsed against her skin—calm now, but still alive.

Beside her, Ziora and Zikora sat quietly, each lost in her own thoughts.

Ziora broke the silence first.

"Do you think Grandma left anyone behind?" she asked softly.

Xoxo's voice was quiet but certain. "If anyone survived her secrets, they're waiting for us."

Zikora's eyes narrowed. "And what if they're not friendly?"

Xoxo looked at her daughter's sharp gaze—so much older than her years—and smiled faintly.

"Then we'll remind them we're not the same girls they chased away."

As the train slowed near their village, an uneasy hush settled over the cabin.

The landscape outside had changed.

Familiar fields lay in ruins.

The once-bustling market square was deserted, buildings boarded up or burned.

"What happened here?" Ziora whispered, pressing her face to the window.

No one answered.

They arrived just before sunset.

The station was empty.

No one came to greet them.

No curious faces peeked from behind doors.

It was as though the whole town was holding its breath.

As they walked toward their grandmother's old house, Xoxo felt the weight of every step.

Her childhood memories twisted into something darker.

The streets were cracked and overgrown.

Everywhere she looked, she saw the ghosts of the past—neighbors who had cast stones, friends who had turned away.

But she didn't flinch.

Not this time.

When they reached the house, they found it untouched.

The walls were faded, the roof sagging, but it stood.

And in the doorway stood a woman.

Tall, regal, with silver-threaded braids and sharp amber eyes.

She looked exactly like Xoxo's grandmother—but younger.

"You returned," the woman said, her voice like smooth stone.

Xoxo's breath caught.

"Aunty Nnenna," she whispered.

Her mother's sister.

The one who had vanished after the Gate first opened.

Nnenna stepped aside, holding the door open.

"Come in," she said simply. "We've waited long enough."

Inside, the house was frozen in time.

The same woven rugs, the same clay pots on the shelves, the same scent of herbs lingering in the air.

But something else lingered too.

A subtle hum beneath the floorboards.

Magic.

Ancient and restless.

Nnenna served them tea without a word.

It wasn't until they sat by the fire that she finally spoke.

"The town fell apart after you left," she said, eyes fixed on Xoxo. "The Gate's curse didn't end with your exile."

Ziora's voice trembled. "But we closed it. We broke the curse."

Nnenna's gaze sharpened.

"You closed a door, yes. But another opened somewhere deeper."

She looked at Zikora, her eyes narrowing.

"In you."

Zikora didn't flinch.

"I'm not a curse," she said firmly.

"No," Nnenna agreed, her voice softer now. "You're a key."

That night, after everyone else had gone to bed, Nnenna called Xoxo to the garden.

Moonlight bathed the old shrine where their grandmother used to pray.

"She knew you'd return," Nnenna said, her voice tinged with sadness. "She left this for you."

From beneath the shrine, she pulled out an old wooden box.

Inside lay two rings—one carved from obsidian, the other from white jade.

"The twin rings," Nnenna whispered. "One for the flame. One for the mirror."

Xoxo's hands shook as she lifted them.

"They'll protect your daughters in what's coming," Nnenna continued. "But they'll also bind them… to their true fate."

Meanwhile, in the attic, Ziora sat awake, staring at the map from the mysterious letter.

Her fingers traced the route drawn in black ink—leading far beyond the village, into the depths of the old forest.

"Why do I feel like it's calling me?" she whispered.

Zikora stirred beside her, watching silently.

"Because it is," Zikora said softly.

Ziora looked at her, wide-eyed.

"Do you feel it too?"

Zikora's voice was calm but distant.

"I feel something… waking."

The next morning, they prepared to leave for the forest.

Nnenna gave Xoxo the rings, her expression grave.

"Once you place them on their fingers," she warned, "there's no turning back."

Xoxo hesitated—but only for a heartbeat.

She slipped the obsidian ring onto Zikora's hand.

The jade ring onto Ziora's.

A pulse of energy rippled through the room—but it didn't burn.

It warmed.

In the quiet that followed, Xoxo whispered, "You don't have to go."

Ziora and Zikora exchanged a look—one filled with certainty and unspoken understanding.

"We do," Zikora said.

"It's in our blood," Ziora added.

They set off at dawn, following the map's path.

Through crumbling fields.

Into the dense woods.

Deeper and deeper, until the air grew thick and the sunlight faded.

Hours later, they reached a clearing.

In its center stood a stone archway—half-buried, covered in moss and carved with ancient runes.

Ziora's voice was barely a breath.

"The second Gate."

Zikora's eyes shone with fierce calm.

"This is why we came."

Suddenly, the earth trembled beneath their feet.

The runes began to glow, casting eerie silver light through the trees.

From the shadows, figures emerged—cloaked in dark robes, eyes burning with familiar gold.

The last remnants of the Masked Flame.

Their leader stepped forward, her voice like wind through dry leaves.

"You thought it was over," she whispered, smiling coldly. "But we've been here, waiting for you."

She pointed at Zikora.

"At the Key."

Xoxo shoved her daughters behind her, her voice fierce.

"You won't touch them."

The woman's smile widened.

"We don't need to."

She raised her hands, and the ground cracked open.

From the earth itself, a dark mist rose, curling around the archway.

And from within the Gate…

Something ancient began to stir.

Zikora's voice was calm, even as her heart pounded.

"Mom. Ziora."

Her fingers tightened around her ring, obsidian glowing softly.

"Whatever happens," she said, her voice steady, "stay close."

Ziora grabbed her hand, her jade ring pulsing in reply.

"We face it together."

As the Gate awakened, the serpent's song returned—louder than ever.

But this time, the sisters didn't flinch.

They faced it.

Side by side.

TO BE CONTINUED…