My Awe

SHADOWS AT THE EDGE

Chapter Six

The night after the river incident hung heavy in Zeiya’s chest. She had barely slept, her mind tangled with Mama Anavami’s words. The king’s eyes are already upon you. Each time she closed her eyes, she saw Mara’s smirk, the curling shadows that seemed to reach for her soul.

Her uncle’s cottage was alive with murmurs that morning. The family gathered around a long wooden table, its surface worn by years of shared meals. Her mother, Tia, ladled steaming broth into bowls while her father, Hiron, spoke softly with Uncle Varin. Mian sat upright beside their father, every muscle tense, while little Kixa swung her legs beneath the bench, humming a tune to herself.

It almost felt normal—yet it wasn’t.

Zeiya stared into her bowl, her reflection rippling with each breath she took. The voices around her blended together until Kixa leaned against her shoulder. “You’re sad again,” the little girl whispered, her wide eyes shimmering with concern.

Zeiya forced a smile, tucking a strand of black hair behind her sister’s ear. “I’m just thinking too much, that’s all.”

But Kixa didn’t look convinced. She tilted her head, lowering her voice. “Mama says you’re special. More special than anyone. I think so too.”

The words cut deeper than Zeiya expected. She reached for Kixa’s hand, holding it tightly. “Don’t tell anyone that, alright?”

Kixa nodded solemnly, as if sharing in a sacred secret.

Across the table, Mian’s gaze flicked toward them. He was no fool; he noticed the way shadows clung to Zeiya lately, the way she disappeared into herself. After the meal, he pulled her aside.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said, his voice low but steady. “Something happened last night, didn’t it?”

Zeiya froze. She wanted to lie, to tell him she was simply tired. But the memory of Mara’s voice still rang in her ears. “I can’t tell you everything,” she admitted at last. “But it’s true—danger is close. And if I don’t learn to face it, it will find us all.”

Mian’s jaw tightened. “Then I’ll protect you. I don’t care what it is.”

She almost laughed at his certainty. Her brother’s strength was real, but so was his blindness to the storm that stirred within her. Still, the warmth of his promise eased some of the weight on her chest.

Later that day, she slipped into the woods again. The forest had changed for her; it no longer felt like the simple playground of childhood. Each rustle of leaves could hide an enemy. Yet it also held the memory of Alyana’s laughter, the glimmer of light in the shadows.

Zeiya found herself tracing the same path back to the river. Her reflection stared up at her from the water, not the girl she had been but someone fiercer, more fragile, and infinitely more dangerous. She touched the surface lightly, watching the ripples distort her face.

“Why me?” she whispered. “Why this power?”

The trees did not answer, but a raven perched above cawed sharply, as though mocking her questions. She shivered. Somewhere deep inside, she felt the tug of destiny, the pull toward a battle she had not chosen.

When she returned to the cottage, Mama Anavami was already there. The old woman sat cross-legged near the hearth, her staff resting across her knees. Her eyes were closed, but Zeiya knew she was waiting.

“You are changing, child,” Mama Anavami said without looking up. “The power inside you stirs faster now, drawn out by danger. It cannot be caged forever.”

“I don’t want it,” Zeiya admitted. The words spilled like a confession. “If it means losing my family, if it means being hunted… I don’t want it.”

Mama Anavami finally opened her eyes, their depths glittering like ancient stars. “Power is not chosen. It is born. And yours—yours will either save us all or destroy us. But it will never leave you, no matter how you beg it to.”

Zeiya’s throat tightened. She thought of Kixa’s innocent smile, of Mian’s vow to protect her, of Alyana’s trembling hand clutching hers by the river. Could she protect them when she could barely control herself?

Mama Anavami rose slowly, her gaze softening. “I will teach you,” she said simply. “If you are willing.”

For a long moment, Zeiya stood frozen between fear and resolve. Then she nodded. The path ahead was terrifying, but there was no turning back.

Outside, the raven cried again, its wings cutting across the gray sky like a warning.

And far away, in the cold chambers of the dark palace, King Dihon stirred, sensing the ripple of a power he had long sought.