The sun was slowly sinking behind the horizon, casting a golden hue over the distant mountains as we continued our journey through the valleys. The silence of the surrounding nature was only broken by the rustling of leaves and the faint call of a bird hidden somewhere in the trees. My steps felt heavy, not merely because of physical exhaustion—though that was undeniable—but due to the weight of the thoughts that filled my mind.
The plain stretched before us, a sea of greenery punctuated by rocky peaks and shimmering rivers. I paused for a moment, taking in the landscape, so majestic it seemed like something out of a dream. This kind of natural beauty was rare in the world, especially after the wars, conflicts, and constant assaults by the Mpayas.
This reminded me of Eyoma. That land, which I once called "home," before it was destroyed by the insatiable greed of others, had been rich in its own majestic landscapes. Dense tropical forests, rivers teeming with life, and sacred mountains where the Ancients were said to dwell. This view brought back memories, fragments of stories I had heard as a child by the fire. One particular legend resurfaced in my mind at that moment.
The myth of Mami-Wata.
In Eyoma, Mami-Wata wasn't simply a water goddess or distant entity like in other cultures. To my people, she was both benevolent and dangerous, a being who lived between worlds, manipulating the waters, winds, and even the spirits of men. It was said that she ruled over the rivers and lakes of Eyoma, bringing prosperity to those who respected her and destruction to those who betrayed her. In the tales my parents told me, she was described as an entity of breathtaking beauty, but also of unimaginable power.
The most well-known legend of Mami-Wata took place at the foot of the sacred Tengara mountain, where a sacred river—called Ija—snaked like a silver vein. According to the myth, centuries ago, a woman named Nyanda, married to a respected war chief, sought refuge near the river after a great battle. Her husband, a man known for his strength and bravery, had succumbed to the wounds inflicted by the Mpayas during an attack.
Nyanda, overwhelmed with grief, prayed to the gods to bring her husband back to life. Her cries reached the depths of the Ija River, and Mami-Wata herself appeared. But, as always with spirits, prayers granted came with a price.
Mami-Wata offered to resurrect Nyanda's husband, but in return, she had to sacrifice her firstborn child to the water goddess. Blinded by sorrow and despair, Nyanda agreed without hesitation. Thus, Mami-Wata brought her husband back to life, but he was no longer entirely human. His skin, once warm and brown, had taken on a silvery sheen, and his gaze, once filled with love, had become cold as the depths of the waters. Despite this, Nyanda was relieved and embraced her resurrected husband.
However, as the days passed, Nyanda became pregnant. On the day of the birth, as promised, Mami-Wata returned to claim her due. But this time, Nyanda realized the gravity of her mistake and attempted to flee with her child. Furious, Mami-Wata unleashed the rivers and lakes of Eyoma, drowning entire villages and devastating crops. Nyanda, unable to escape the goddess's power, hid in a sacred cave, but Mami-Wata eventually found her.
The end of the legend is uncertain, as different versions exist. Some say Nyanda managed to escape Mami-Wata by offering another sacrifice, while others claim the goddess ultimately took her child and transformed Nyanda into a river spirit, condemned to watch over the Ija source for eternity.
As I thought back to this story, I realized how much it resonated with my own situation. Sacrifice. Always this notion of sacrifice. Nyanda had sacrificed her child, and I... how many lives had I sacrificed, thinking I was protecting those I loved? How many times had I justified my actions, believing they were for the good of my friends, my people? And yet, all of it seemed to have distanced me from those I held dear.
Kimpa Vita walked silently beside me, respecting my need for introspection. I glanced at her briefly. She, too, must have carried the weight of many responsibilities, particularly the task of reclaiming her throne and restoring peace to her own kingdom.
The valley stretched out before us, and in the distance, we saw a village. However, something felt off. The place seemed abandoned, the houses in ruins, and the air felt... stifling, almost disturbed by an unseen force.
"This village..." Kimpa murmured, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "Something is strange here."
I nodded in agreement. My instincts as a Forest Knight were telling me the same thing. The very earth seemed disturbed, as if nature itself had been wounded. We decided to approach cautiously.
As we neared the crumbling houses, I sensed an unusual magical energy. The atmosphere was heavy, as though something ancient and powerful had been disturbed. Kimpa cast a spell to detect magic, and I saw a flicker of worry cross her face.
"The land here is cursed, Alaric. There's ancient magic at work, something that should never have been awakened."
I had never heard Kimpa speak like this. Even during our darkest moments, she had always maintained a certain calm. But now, the gravity of her voice made it clear that this village wasn't simply abandoned. It hid something much darker.
We pressed forward until we reached a central square. In the middle stood a well, its water black and stagnant, in stark contrast to the fresh air around us. Kimpa approached the well and muttered a few words in an ancient dialect, trying to understand what had happened here.
"These people were affected by a curse tied to the earth itself. It's as if their life force was drained, and everything around them withered along with them."
I gazed at the houses, each one empty, devoid of any sign of life. There were no traces of human remains, not even bones. It was as if the entire village had been erased from existence, but the residual energies around us told me this wasn't a natural disappearance.
My thoughts wandered back to Eyoma. Could the same thing happen to my people? The same silent, invisible destruction? The prosperity of our land, built on the balance between humans and nature, seemed fragile now. The Mpayas didn't just steal resources; they also corrupted the magic of the earth. Perhaps here, we were witnessing the consequences of their actions.
"We need to leave this place," Kimpa suddenly said. "The magic here isn't natural, and it could affect us if we stay too long."
I nodded and turned away from the well. But before leaving, I placed my hand on the ground, trying to use my connection with nature to feel what had happened. What I sensed was painful, as if the earth itself was weeping. Something or someone had stolen its life force.
We left the village in silence, but the image of that cursed place remained etched in my mind. Another harsh lesson from this cruel world, reminding me that at any moment, even the most beautiful places could be destroyed by greed. Eyoma, too, was vulnerable to these forces, and I had to prepare to face this reality, no matter the cost.
As we pressed on toward our next destination, I couldn't stop thinking about the legend of Mami-Wata and the price one must pay to achieve what they desire. I had made so many sacrifices, and yet, the road ahead seemed even more perilous.
In this world, strength alone wasn't enough to solve everything. The magic of the land, the connection with the Ancients, and even the legends that had shaped my childhood—all of these now had to guide my steps.
I lifted my eyes toward the distant mountains. The legends said that near the summit, there was a sacred place where the Ancients had once sealed immense powers. Perhaps it was there that I would find the answers I needed.