The storm came without warning.
No wind. No lightning. Only rain — endless and heavy, falling like grief.
For three days it didn't stop.
The river that curled through the village swelled until it drowned the footpaths. The people called it Ọya's mourning, believing a god must've lost something precious.
Shango stayed indoors the first day, restless and feverish. The mark on his arm glowed faintly whenever thunder whispered.
By the second day, the fever broke — replaced by something stranger.
He began to hear voices in the rain. Not words, exactly — tones, patterns, like the low hum of forgotten songs.
Ejiro noticed.
> "You're listening again," he said quietly.
> "It's not the drums this time," Shango replied. "It's the river."
Ejiro's eyes darkened.
> "Then she's calling you."
> "Who?"
> "The Seer of the Depths."
---
On the third morning, Shango could no longer resist the pull.
He left before dawn, walking through the flooded fields until the path vanished beneath the rising waters.
He followed the hum — soft at first, then clearer. Each step seemed guided by a rhythm older than memory.
Finally, he reached a place where the river bent sharply, forming a deep pool surrounded by whispering reeds. Mist hovered above it like living breath.
There, standing ankle-deep in the water, was a woman.
Her skin shimmered like wet stone; her hair was bound with shells that clinked softly in the wind. Her eyes, however, were the strangest — shifting colors like the surface of the river itself.
> "Omo Ina," she said, her voice rippling like current. "You've come."
> "Who are you?"
> "Names are for the living. I have crossed that bridge too many times to keep mine."
She smiled faintly. "But you may call me Ada-Miri."
---
She motioned for him to come closer. When he did, the water beneath his feet warmed — faintly glowing, responding to his mark.
> "You carry the Grove's fire," she said, studying his arm. "And now, its storm."
> "Do you know what it means?"
> "It means you are a hinge."
Shango frowned. "A hinge?"
> "Between what was and what will be. Between restraint and ruin. The Grove does not bless — it balances."
He hesitated. "The Veiled Flame said they would unbind the sky."
Ada-Miri's face darkened.
> "They seek to awaken the sleeping thunder — the spirit that once ruled these lands before men named it 'god.'"
> "You mean… Shango?"
She smiled — but not kindly.
> "The name you bear is not yours yet. It is his. The one who became legend. The one the sky buried."
The rain fell harder. The pool rippled violently, though the wind was still.
> "What are they trying to do?" he pressed.
> "To summon the storm without balance. To give thunder a face again — but this time, one that listens to them."
Shango clenched his fists. "Then I'll stop them."
Ada-Miri tilted her head.
> "You cannot stop the storm, child. You can only decide what it will strike."
---
She reached out and touched the river. Instantly, the water cleared — revealing visions beneath the surface:
The cultists of the Veiled Flame kneeling before a burning effigy; Ejiro speaking with an elder in secret; lightning striking a distant tree where something dark stirred.
> "Three nights from now," Ada-Miri said, "they will gather again — not to summon, but to seal. They want to bind your power to their flame."
Shango looked up sharply. "Bind me?"
> "They will use the mark you carry. The Grove's gift is the only bridge between realms. Destroy the mark, and you destroy their ritual."
> "How?"
> "Seek the heart of the river — where thunder sleeps. There, you will find the answer… or be consumed by it."
She began to fade, her voice echoing through the mist.
> "Remember, Omo Ina — a storm does not choose where it falls, but you must."
---
When Shango blinked, she was gone.
The river was silent again, save for the steady rhythm of rain.
He looked down at his reflection — and for an instant, saw another face staring back.
Older. Fiercer. Crowned with lightning.
He stumbled backward, heart pounding.
But when he looked again, only his own reflection remained — young, uncertain, yet burning with something he didn't yet understand.
---
He turned toward home, water sloshing around his feet.
The sky growled above, and thunder rolled through the distance like a warning drum.
Ejiro would soon have to tell him what he'd been hiding.
Because Shango knew now — this wasn't just a mark.
It was a door.