Chapter 2: Chapter 2: THE PROPHESY

“Do you think someone like him really exists and that he will return?” the younger scholar of the Fiyandu enlightened clan asked the older scholar, who was his uncle. “It has been years, and the prophecy hasn’t changed.” He continued looking at the foreign language between the crystals.

“The child of memory will return.

He will hold the power of nations in his skin.

He will break the one who broke the South.”

“He doesn’t exist,” the older scholar said with finality. “Let’s not talk about this anymore.” He said, moving to the other side of the hall. “But can you imagine the possibility of someone that powerful existing?” The youth followed behind him. The older scholar shook his head at his naivety. He might have pampered his nephew so much as to let him into the inner hall.

“I did not allow you to join the most enlightened so you can cause trouble for me, don’t ask things you are not qualified to know.” Avandi finally snapped. He had picked Tisiki because he was smart and he was beginning to think the boy was not smart at all.

“I know I know, I see nothing and hear nothing,” he answered, skipping out of the inner hall of astronomy.

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Deep in the lower east of Tagayia, near the border in a small village, a young youth was lying behind a bush. His breath was held as he listened to the heartbeat of the creature. His house is at the outskirts of town, far from the closest village. He listened to every breath of the wind, every burrow of the rodents, and the song of the birds. This had become his routine as long as he could remember. At first, he couldn’t hear them, but when he turned ten, he could hear every breath of every creature. When he asked his mother. She had told him it was a sign of growth. He should have believed her, as every child believed their mother, but he knew his mother had lied to him. He didn’t have the heart to call her out, even so.

He was twelve now, and he could hear every creature’s song. He had learned to filter out the voices he didn’t care for and focus on the ones he cared for. He could hear the chirping of the clutch of a rabbit, and his lips behind the face covering lifted in a smile. A sleeping rabbit? He was lucky. It was a mile away. He jumped from his spot on the ground and took off in a run. He moved lightly so as not to make any sound. He jumped over roots and swung over a branch, letting himself stay upside down for a while before letting himself fall. A hunt did not have to be fast and precise. It could also be fun and stealthy. He was a quiet child, and he had known he was different from his peers long ago. he now preferred to play alone.

He had just landed silently when he felt a new presence in his turf. Several footsteps were moving in on his position. The sand under him vibrated as if sensing the intruders, too. Suddenly, he saw echo images around the strangers. The images were intense, making him lose his balance. He fell to his knees, losing his advantage. When he looked up again, a burly man was standing in front of him dressed in a scout uniform. The scouts hadn’t just happened to stumble upon the village. A rumour had spread about a child with strange senses living on the outskirts of the Wuzi village.”

The leader was the burly man, clearly from the Zume clan by his horned mask that sat above his nose and the tail curve tattoo running down the forearms. To his left was a short man bearing the tattoo of jagged lines across the jaw and shoulder known to the Barku tribe. To his right was another big man. He was tall as he was fat with a tattoo of a curved horn on the left pectoral of his chest, known to the korma tribe. An even smaller woman with a detached expression was sitting on a protruding root, her round eyes staring into space. She bore a tattoo of twin horizontal eye stripes under her eyes. Her weapon, which was coiled around her arms, was engraved with a totem of a desert falcon known to the Nfari tribe. Standing behind her as if to guard her was a wide-eyed boy looking to have just turned sixteen, but with the body of an eleven-year-old. His tattoo is a jawbone pattern around the mouth. He was from the leading clan Haku of the Shoku tribe of the north.

His senses screamed when he regarded each one of them. The word enemy was clear even though he had never met them. The scout from the Zume tribe moved forward, and the youth instinctively moved back.

“Hey, don’t be scared, I’m looking for a boy with markings on his body. Care to take off your mask and coverings so I can check?” His question sounded like a polite request, but it was more of a command. He instinctively activated the memory echo. He didn’t know what it was, however, but the gore images almost brought him to his knees. A strange man was bathed in the blood of children and women from a clan. A place he felt close to was on fire, and a commander was yelling for the other scouts dressed in northern uniforms. In his arms, he held a drawing of the markings on his body, and he was labelled as a “threat”.

“Why am I a threat?” he wondered out loud. The white in his eyes turned black.

“Something is wrong, Talegu!” The short man from the Barku tribe yelled to the leader, forcing everyone to get into a defensive formation.

Telugu moved fast, trying to capture the boy, but he didn’t even get to move before the ground under him shifted, making him fall forward. He had activated sand resonance without realizing it. All he could understand was, the men in front of him were enemies. The others tried to move to aid their leader, but just like him, the ground beneath their feet moved violently, making them unable to charge.

“Sagiri, stop!” A familiar voice broke through his trance. It radiated only warmth like it always had. His eyes returned to their normal colour. Rusha and Bakuru, his mother and father, were running to him from a distance. The middle-aged village doctor and her husband, Bakuru, rushed to their child. Rusha pulled him into a warm embrace, giving the intruders a wary smile.

“Please forgive my boy, he is simple-minded and loves to throw simple pranks. He meant no harm at all,” she lied, and Sagiri could feel it. He could also feel his anger directed at strangers burning like hot charcoal. The scouts didn’t argue with her as they turned around and left in a hurry, clearly not believing a word she said. They were not whatsoever convinced that what they had experienced was a prank. Something was amiss with the boy.

That night, after Sagiri retired to his sleeping chamber, Rusha cried. She had failed to protect him, and she didn’t know how long she could keep him hidden and protected.

“They are going to take him, Bakuru. We failed to protect him, we have broken our promise.” She wailed.

Bakuru gripped his old spear, trembling. He was no longer as strong as he used to be. His spear had long rusted because he swore he could never use it again after the dreadful night years ago. Only three sentences remained true in their heart.

They know.

The North will come back for him.

Sooner or later.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep