My Awe

THE RIVERS WHISPER

Chapter Five

The woods had grown quieter since the shadow encounter, but Zeiya’s heart had not. Even while surrounded by her family, she felt restless, like a bird caged against its will. That night, when the stars began to glow faintly through the canopy, she slipped away from her uncle’s cottage, her emerald-green dress brushing the damp grass as she walked. She needed air, space—something to calm the storm inside her.

The river was her refuge. Its silver reflection carried whispers of freedom, the current moving steadily as though untouched by fear or fate. Zeiya crouched near the bank, dipping her fingers into the cool water. For a moment, she almost believed she could wash away the weight of her secret.

“Still sneaking off to the river, I see.”

The voice was light, teasing, and familiar. Zeiya’s breath caught in her throat as she turned. There, standing a few paces away, was Alyana. Her childhood companion, with her dark curls framing a cheerful face, stood just as Zeiya remembered—though older now, more poised, and still carrying that playful sparkle in her eyes.

“Alyana?” Zeiya whispered, disbelief melting into joy. She rushed forward, and the two girls embraced, laughter spilling between them like they had never been apart.

“Everyone said you were gone for good,” Alyana said, pulling back to study her. “But look at you! You’ve grown even more beautiful. I swear, sometimes I think only your little sister might rival you, and even then…” She shook her head with a grin. “No one else in this world shines like you do.”

Zeiya blushed, shaking her head. “Beauty means little if it only brings danger.”

“Danger?” Alyana tilted her head, curiosity pricking through her smile.

Zeiya hesitated, then forced a smile. “Forget it. Tell me about you. Tell me about the village, the people. I’ve missed… normal things.”

So they sat by the riverbank, their words tumbling freely. Alyana told stories of the witch community’s gatherings, of the endless debates in the council, of children daring one another to sneak herbs from Elara’s garden. Zeiya listened, her heart aching for the life she had lost. For once, she allowed herself to laugh, her laughter carried off by the current.

But the peace did not last.

A c***k echoed through the trees. The hairs on Zeiya’s neck rose. Alyana’s smile faltered. “Did you hear that?”

Before Zeiya could answer, a figure stepped from the shadows—Mara, the council’s silent observer. Her eyes glinted with something unreadable, her hands glowing faintly with shadow magic.

“Well, well,” Mara murmured, her voice smooth as silk. “The hidden jewel of the witch line, wandering about unguarded. The king will be very pleased to know you’re alive.”

Alyana gasped, instinctively stepping in front of Zeiya. “Leave her alone!”

Mara only smirked. “Loyal, aren’t you? But loyalty won’t save her.” She raised her hand, shadows curling like snakes around her fingers.

Zeiya’s heart pounded. She had not yet learned control, but fear and anger surged together, bursting through her like a storm. Her palms blazed with a fierce light, and before Mara could strike, Zeiya thrust her hands forward. A wave of raw, golden energy shot out, slamming into Mara and scattering the shadows.

Mara hissed, stumbling back, her eyes narrowing. “So it’s true. You are stronger than all of them.” With a swirl of darkness, she vanished into the trees.

Silence returned, broken only by Alyana’s ragged breathing. “Zeiya…” Her eyes were wide with both awe and fear. “What was that? No one’s magic burns like that.”

Before Zeiya could respond, a lantern light flickered through the trees. Mama Anavami appeared, leaning on her staff. Her gaze swept over the girls, then settled firmly on Zeiya.

“I felt it,” the old woman said gravely. “The forest trembled with your power, child. You can no longer run from what you are. The king’s eyes are already upon you.”

Zeiya lowered her gaze, her chest tightening. Alyana took her hand, squeezing it fiercely. “Whatever comes,” she said, her voice trembling but determined, “you won’t face it alone.”

The river continued its song, but now it sounded like a warning, carrying with it the promise of storms to come.