The sun had barely risen when Kamau left the village.
He didn't tell anyone. Not Ayo. Not Baraka. Not even the elders who watched him like vultures circling a lion. He walked into the forest with nothing but a satchel of dried meat, a carved bone dagger, and the mark of the Flameborn still glowing faintly on his chest.
The trees of Nyumbani were old, older than memory, older than names. Their roots twisted like sleeping serpents, and their leaves whispered secrets to anyone who dared listen. Kamau didn't listen. He walked.
He was looking for silence. Not the kind that came from absence, but the kind that came from presence. The kind that lived in the Mbili Realm. The kind that let him feel the pulse of Uhai beneath the skin of the world.
He found a clearing surrounded by baobabs and sat cross-legged in the dust. He closed his eyes.
Aura farming was not taught. It was felt. Kamau reached inward, past the wells, Heart, Mind, and Root, and into the space between. He breathed slowly, letting the rhythm of the earth match the beat of his chest.
The air shimmered. Golden threads rose from the soil, from the bark, from the wind itself. They danced around him, drawn to the mark on his chest. He raised his hand, and the threads wrapped around his fingers like silk.
He pulled.
The energy surged into him, warm, ancient, wild. His skin glowed faintly. His breath deepened. His thoughts sharpened.
He saw visions.
A lion roaring beneath a blood moon.
A child holding fire in his hands.
A mask split in two.
Kamau opened his eyes.
Nyoka was standing across from him.
She was tall, cloaked in feathers and smoke. Her eyes were silver, her voice like wind through bone.
"You pull Uhai like a thief," she said.
Kamau stood slowly. "I take what's offered."
Nyoka tilted her head. "You take more than you give."
Kamau brushed dust from his tunic. "Balance is a myth. The strong survive."
Nyoka stepped closer. "You speak like one who has seen death."
Kamau met her gaze. "I've seen worse. I've seen people live without purpose."
Nyoka smiled faintly. "You are brave."
Kamau shrugged. "I'm bored."
She circled him. "You walk alone. You speak little. You listen less. Yet the ancestors whisper your name."
Kamau's voice was quiet. "Let them whisper. I'm not here to please ghosts."
Nyoka stopped. "Then why are you here?"
Kamau looked at the trees. "To grow. To sharpen. To prepare."
"For what?"
Kamau turned to her. "For whatever comes next."
Nyoka sat beside him. The air grew colder.
"You are Flameborn," she said. "But the flame is not enough. You must learn to shape it."
Kamau raised an eyebrow. "You offering lessons?"
Nyoka chuckled. "I offer warnings."
Kamau leaned back. "I don't do fear."
Nyoka's eyes narrowed. "Then listen with courage."
She raised her hand, and the clearing darkened. Shadows twisted. The trees groaned.
A vision unfolded.
Kamau saw the Night Maw, massive, coiled beneath the earth, its eyes closed, its breath slow. Around it, tribes fought. Spirits wept. The sky cracked.
Then he saw himself, standing alone, blood on his hands, fire in his eyes.
Nyoka spoke.
"The Night Maw stirs. The tribes are divided. The gods are silent. You are the echo of a broken promise."
Kamau didn't flinch. "Then I'll be the one who breaks the silence."
Nyoka studied him. "You are brave. But bravery without wisdom is a blade without a handle."
Kamau stood. "Then I'll learn to hold it."
They walked together through the forest.
Nyoka pointed to a tree split by lightning. "This is the Tree of Memory. Touch it."
Kamau placed his hand on the bark. Visions surged.
He saw Baraka as a young warrior, laughing beside a fire.
He saw Makari kneeling before a grave.
He saw Ayo crying beneath the stars.
He pulled his hand back.
Nyoka nodded. "Uhai is not just power. It is a story. It is pain. It is truth."
Kamau's voice was low. "Then I'll carry it."
They reached a river. Nyoka knelt and touched the water. It glowed.
Kamau watched. "You're not just a guide."
Nyoka looked at him. "I am what the ancestors made me."
Kamau stepped into the river. The water wrapped around his legs like silk. He felt the pulse of the land. He closed his eyes.
He pulled.
Aura surged into him, stronger than before. His chest glowed. His eyes turned gold. His breath became fire.
Nyoka stepped back. "You are ready."
Kamau opened his eyes. "No. I'm just getting started."
They returned to the clearing.
Nyoka handed him a stone carved with symbols. "This is a memory shard. It holds the echo of a warrior long dead. Use it wisely."
Kamau took it. "I don't waste gifts."
Nyoka smiled. "You don't waste anything."
Kamau turned to leave.
Nyoka called out. "Kamau."
He stopped.
"Do not walk alone forever."
Kamau didn't look back. "I walk faster that way."
As he returned to the village, the wind shifted.
The trees whispered.
The earth trembled.
The Night Maw stirred.
And Kamau's fire burned brighter.