The water was ice.
Kareem struggled as unseen hands pulled him downward. His breath caught in his throat—panic setting in as silt and cold swallowed him whole.
He kicked. Fought.
But the river wanted him.
It whispered through the currents, curling around his ears like smoke:
"Remember... remember... remember..."
Then, just as darkness crept into his vision—
A hand reached in.
Strong. Human.
Kareem broke the surface, gasping, coughing, clawing at the air. He collapsed onto the muddy shore, shaking, soaked, and stunned.
Ola knelt beside him, his eyes wild. "I followed you... I saw everything. Are you okay?"
Kareem coughed again, nodding slowly. "You... saved me."
"No," Ola whispered, glancing back at the water. "She did."
"What?"
"The girl. She pushed you upward. I saw her hand. She's... she's still in there."
Kareem looked back at the river—still, calm, pretending to be nothing more than water. But the memory of those faces... those open mouths…
They weren't just dead.
They were trapped.
Back at the lab, Kareem poured out everything to Amaka—who, despite her science-driven skepticism, was now visibly shaken too.
"Those carvings on the drum," she said, pointing to her tablet. "They're old. Like... pre-colonial sacred script. West-African. Obscure."
"What do they say?"
Amaka turned the screen. A digital translation flickered to life:
"Let the river keep what was taken. Let the dead not rise with questions."
Kareem read it twice.
"So it's a seal?"
Amaka nodded. "More like a curse. The drum isn't just ceremonial—it's a binding object. Whatever was placed into the river was meant to be silenced forever."
"And if someone—like the fisherman—disturbed it?"
"Then the silence breaks."
Kareem ran a hand through his hair. "That's why the girl died. She must've heard something. The fisherman too."
"And now you," Amaka added quietly. "You saw them."
"Yes. And they see me."
That evening, as the sun bled gold across the treetops, Kareem sat in his car staring at the river.
He wasn't alone.
Chief Adewale stood by the water's edge, cloaked in white. Others were with him now. A silent circle.
A ritual was beginning.
Kareem raised his camera—but then paused.
He recognized another figure in the circle.
The town priest.
And beside him—
The mayor.
Kareem's breath hitched.
It wasn't just Adewale.
It wasn't a fringe belief.
The town's entire power structure was in on it.
Ola crouched in the passenger seat beside him. "They call it The Remembrance. Once a year, they feed the river. So the past stays drowned."
Kareem's hands shook. "Why hasn't anyone stopped them?"
"Because every time someone tries..." Ola looked down. "They become part of the river too."
Kareem looked back at the circle. The chanting began—low, rhythmic. The drum was beating. Its sound pulsed through the trees like a second heartbeat.
Then they brought forward a new body.
Wrapped in white cloth.
Still.
Unmoving.
Kareem reached for his gun.
"This ends tonight," he muttered.