Episode Eight — The Twelve Voices
1397 Words
The night held its breath.
No one moved.
Not Amina.
Not the Hunters.
Not even Zainab, whose mouth normally outran her caution.
The name lingered in the air.
The Twelve Voices.
Twelve people.
Twelve rulers hidden behind kingdoms.
Twelve unseen hands steering history.
Amina stared at Malek from the top of the tower.
“You expect me to believe twelve people control the world?”
Malek’s expression remained calm.
“No.”
A pause.
“I expect you to discover it.”
The answer irritated her immediately.
Every person connected to the Broken Circle seemed addicted to speaking in riddles.
Amina tightened her grip on her blade.
“Then stop speaking like a ghost and tell me what you want.”
A faint smile crossed Malek’s face.
“Good.”
He glanced briefly toward Queen Bakwa.
“She has your father’s temper.”
Amina froze.
Her father’s temper.
The mention hit harder than expected.
Her father had always been a shadow in her life.
A respected ruler.
A distant memory.
A story everyone told differently.
Before she could ask another question, Malek continued.
“The Circle does not fear rebellion.”
“The Circle does not fear war.”
“The Circle does not fear death.”
His eyes settled on her.
“The Circle fears disruption.”
Amina frowned.
“And I’m supposed to be the disruption?”
“You already are.”
The Hunters shifted slightly.
Not attacking.
Preparing.
Amina noticed immediately.
Something was about to happen.
She glanced toward Queen Bakwa.
The Queen had gone unusually pale.
Not from fear.
Recognition.
Amina’s instincts screamed.
Danger.
Immediate danger.
Then she heard it.
A sound.
Deep beneath the earth.
A low rumble.
Like thunder trapped underground.
The tower trembled.
Dust fell from the walls.
Zainab looked around.
“Please tell me the ground isn’t joining the enemy.”
The rumbling grew louder.
Nobody laughed.
Malek stepped backward.
For the first time since arriving, he looked cautious.
That alone terrified Amina.
If someone like him was cautious, something serious was coming.
The rumble intensified.
The forest began shaking.
Trees swayed.
Birds exploded into the sky.
Then the ground cracked.
A massive fracture split the earth beyond the tower.
Hunters immediately retreated.
Even they looked unsettled.
Amina felt her heartbeat quicken.
The c***k widened.
And from its depths
light emerged.
Not fire.
Not lightning.
Something older.
A strange silver glow.
Ancient.
Cold.
Alive.
Queen Bakwa whispered something.
Amina barely heard it.
“What?”
The Queen swallowed.
“The Vault.”
Amina looked at her.
“What vault?”
The Queen stared at the glowing fracture.
“The first vault.”
The way she said it made Amina uneasy.
Not because of what she said.
Because of how she said it.
Like someone speaking of a nightmare they had hoped never to see again.
The earth split further.
Massive stone structures slowly emerged from beneath the ground.
Ancient pillars.
Carved walls.
Broken symbols.
Entire buildings hidden beneath the world.
A forgotten city.
Amina’s breath caught.
The hidden structure they had escaped suddenly seemed insignificant.
This was enormous.
Miles of ancient architecture buried beneath the land.
Impossible.
And yet there it was.
⸻
Malek watched silently.
Even the Hunters seemed unsure.
For the first time, Amina realized something important.
The Circle did not control everything.
There were things even they feared.
⸻
“What is that?” Zainab whispered.
Nobody answered immediately.
Finally Queen Bakwa spoke.
“It is where the first rulers were judged.”
Amina looked at her.
“Judged by who?”
The Queen’s eyes remained fixed on the ruins.
“That is the question nobody survived long enough to answer.”
A cold wind swept across the valley.
Then the lights intensified.
The ancient city glowed brighter and brighter.
Until figures became visible.
Walking among the ruins.
Amina narrowed her eyes.
People.
Dozens of them.
Maybe hundreds.
Moving through the glowing city.
Yet something was wrong.
Their movements were too slow.
Too deliberate.
Almost unnatural.
One of the Hunters stepped closer to Malek.
“Third Voice.”
His tone carried concern.
“We should leave.”
Malek didn’t answer.
The Hunter tried again.
“The Vault was never supposed to awaken.”
Amina heard every word.
Malek’s jaw tightened.
Finally he spoke.
“Nothing about her was supposed to happen.”
His gaze shifted toward Amina.
That answer chilled her more than the glowing city.
Suddenly a scream echoed from below.
One of the Hunters.
Everyone turned.
The Hunter stumbled backward.
Then another.
Then another.
Panic spread through the elite soldiers.
Amina couldn’t understand why.
Until she saw it.
A figure had appeared behind them.
No footsteps.
No warning.
One moment there was nothing.
The next moment someone stood there.
Watching.
⸻
The figure wore white.
Not royal white.
Not ceremonial white.
Ancient white.
Robes marked with symbols older than the Broken Circle itself.
Its face remained hidden beneath a hood.
Yet somehow everyone felt its gaze.
The temperature dropped instantly.
Even Malek looked disturbed.
The figure spoke.
Its voice sounded strange.
Like many voices speaking together.
“Children.”
Silence.
The Hunters looked terrified.
Actual terror.
Amina had never seen that before.
The figure slowly turned.
Its hidden gaze settled on Malek.
“You continue to interfere.”
Malek’s confidence vanished.
Not entirely.
But enough.
“The Circle preserves order.”
The figure tilted its head.
“Order.”
The word sounded almost amused.
“You mistake control for order.”
Amina exchanged a glance with Zainab.
Neither understood what was happening.
But one thing was obvious.
The Broken Circle wasn’t the oldest power here.
Not even close.
The hooded figure looked toward Amina.
The moment it did, a strange sensation flooded through her body.
Not pain.
Recognition.
As though something inside her remembered something her mind never learned.
The figure took one step forward.
The ground beneath it glowed.
Ancient symbols awakened.
The entire valley responded.
“Amina of Zazzau.”
The figure spoke her name softly.
Yet it echoed across the valley.
“You stand where the first choice began.”
Amina swallowed.
“What are you?”
The figure remained silent for a moment.
Then answered.
“We are the Keepers.”
The name meant nothing.
Yet everyone around her reacted.
Especially Queen Bakwa.
Especially Malek.
The Keeper lifted one hand.
The glowing city brightened instantly.
Images appeared in the air.
Not illusions.
Memories.
Ancient battles.
Fallen kingdoms.
Cities erased from maps.
Rulers kneeling before symbols.
History itself unfolding above the valley.
Amina stared in disbelief.
She was looking at centuries.
Perhaps millennia.
Of hidden truth.
And then she saw it.
The symbol.
Not broken.
Not whole.
Something larger.
A design that contained both versions.
The original mark.
The source from which the Broken Circle had been created.
⸻
The Keeper’s voice echoed again.
“The Circle remembers only fragments.”
“The Twelve Voices remember only power.”
The images shifted.
Ancient rulers appeared.
Wars erupted.
Empires collapsed.
“The truth was buried.”
Another shift.
A familiar face appeared.
Ka’ren.
Standing among old records.
Searching.
Learning.
Watching.
Amina froze.
Ka’ren knew.
He had known far more than he revealed.
The Keeper looked directly at her.
“And now the buried truth wakes.”
A long silence followed.
Then came the words that changed everything.
“The Lioness was never meant to inherit a throne.”
Amina’s heart skipped.
“The Lioness was meant to end one.”
⸻
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Even the wind seemed stunned.
Amina stared at the Keeper.
Her mind struggled to process what she had heard.
End a throne?
Not rule it?
Destroy it?
Malek moved first.
For the first time all night, he looked genuinely alarmed.
“No.”
The word came out sharper than intended.
The Keeper turned toward him slowly.
And smiled.
Not kindly.
Not cruelly.
Knowingly.
“The game is ending, Third Voice.”
The valley trembled again.
The ancient city glowed brighter.
The Hunters retreated further.
And somewhere beneath the earth
something massive began waking.
Something even older than the Keepers.
Something that should never have been disturbed.
Amina felt it.
Everyone felt it.
The story had just become bigger than Zazzau.
Bigger than the Circle.
Bigger than the Twelve Voices.
And whatever was waking below them was coming.
END OF EPISODE EIGHT
Next Episode: “The Lioness Prophecy”
- Writer
