The rain had not stopped since morning. It rolled down the tin roof of the cabin in rhythmic patterns, a steady percussion against the stillness that filled the room.
Chuka sat cross-legged on the woven mat, breathing heavily, his shirt clinging to his skin. The air shimmered faintly around him — the afterglow of power he still barely understood. Across from him, his mentor, Elder nwankwo, watched in silence, his eyes half-closed in meditation.
"You felt it too," Elder Kalu nwankwo said finally, his voice calm, deep, weathered by time.
Chuka nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. "It wasn't just the Plateau this time. It felt like… the whole world was humming."
"It is." Kalu's gaze shifted toward the open window, where mist clung to the highland grass. "The Heart beneath the Plateau has awakened fully. And in doing so, it has stirred the others. What you feel are the echoes of creation — the song of the Maker returning to the air after ages of silence."
Chuka looked down at his hands. His veins still glowed faintly with a dull amber hue, like molten light trapped beneath his skin. "I didn't mean to start this. I was just trying to protect Amara."
"The Maker's will is not measured by intent," Kalu replied gently. "You are of the blood that sealed the first Heart. That bond cannot be broken. You did not awaken it — it recognized you."
Silence hung between them for a moment, broken only by the soft crackle of the lantern.
Finally, Kalu Nwankwo stood and walked to the center of the room. "You cannot run from this anymore, Chuka. If the Heart is active, it will draw others to you — seekers, predators, and those who wish to claim what they do not understand. You must learn to move as the Maker's chosen once did — through the divine currents that flow beneath the world."
Chuka frowned. "You mean teleportation?"
Kalu smiled faintly. "That word is too crude for what it truly is. The Maker called it the Divine Steps — movement through resonance, not distance. The world is not space to be crossed; it is sound to be played. Once you understand the rhythm, you will walk from one note to another."
Chuka blinked. "You make it sound poetic, but I can barely control when the Heart responds. The last time I tried, I almost vanished into the ground."
"Because you fought it," Kalu said. "The Heart does not obey force; it obeys harmony. You must learn to listen — not to command."
He reached for a small carved stone on the table — ancient, etched with Nok symbols. "This was once used to guide initiates of the old order. It responds to resonance. We will use it to teach you direction."
Chuka took the stone in his hand. It pulsed faintly, matching the rhythm of his heartbeat.
Kalu began to chant softly — low, rhythmic syllables that vibrated through the air. "Each relic sings a note in the Maker's harmony. The Heart sings through you now. Listen. Feel where its song is strongest. That is the path of your step."
The world around Chuka seemed to blur slightly. The edges of the room trembled, as though the air itself were breathing. He closed his eyes and felt it — faint threads stretching outward in all directions, each humming at a different frequency. Some called to him softly, others roared like distant thunder.
"I feel… pathways," he murmured. "Some lead far — I can sense the ocean. Others… closer."
"Good," Kalu said. "Now focus on one — something near. Do not imagine movement. Imagine becoming where you wish to be."
Chuka drew a slow breath, his mind locking onto a point just beyond the doorway. The threads converged, vibrating with increasing intensity. The glow beneath his skin brightened — and then, in a single instant, the world inverted.
The air bent. The mat where he sat was suddenly empty.
A heartbeat later, he stumbled through the doorway, gasping for air, nearly colliding with a wooden post.
He turned, wide-eyed. "I… I did it!"
Kalu smiled calmly, though pride flickered in his eyes. "A small step, but a true one. The first of the Divine Steps. In time, you'll learn to align not just with places, but with people — emotions, memories, even the resonance of another relic."
Chuka straightened, still trembling with adrenaline. "You mean I could find the others?"
"Yes," Kalu said, his tone grave. "But that is a path filled with danger. The relics are awakening, and not all who sense them will seek them for light. Some will hear only the call of power."
A distant rumble echoed through the Plateau — thunder rolling from miles away, though the sky above remained clear. Both men turned toward it.
Kalu's expression darkened. "The world is shifting. The currents are restless. Roman's eyes are already searching for you."
Chuka clenched his fist, the stone in his palm still pulsing. "Then we train faster."
Kalu's gaze softened. "You will. But remember — each step must be taken with clarity. The Divine Steps demand more than will; they demand balance between fear and purpose. Lose that, and the current will scatter your soul across the void between moments."
Chuka nodded silently. The rain began again, tapping softly against the window. He felt the Heart stir within him — not violently this time, but with steady warmth, like a promise.
For the first time since his escape, he felt direction. Not safety, not certainty — but purpose.
Kalu turned away, looking into the mist beyond the window. "Tomorrow," he said, "we begin training for distance. You must learn to step beyond sight — to find a point on the horizon and become it. The path to mastering the Divine Steps begins not with motion, but with stillness."
Outside, lightning flashed over the Plateau, illuminating the ridges in ghostly light.
And somewhere far beneath the earth, the Heart pulsed again — its rhythm echoing through the ancient veins of the world, answering the call of its siblings across the sea.
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