Tunde fell ill that night.
Fever burned through him, and his dreams were filled with drowning faces pressing against invisible glass. When he woke, Baba Sadiq sat beside his bed.
"You saw them," the old man said quietly.
Tunde nodded, shaking. "What are they?"
"Not what," Baba corrected. "Who."
He explained that long before Aderemi was built, the river was worshipped. It demanded offerings—not animals, but memories. Names. Lives.
When the worship stopped, the river slept.
Until now.
"It is calling back those it once claimed," Baba Sadiq said. "And it wants more."
"Why me?" Tunde whispered.
"Because your father belongs to it," the old man replied. "And blood remembers."
Tunde felt something twist inside him, like a rope tightening.
"There is only one way to stop it," Baba Sadiq continued. "The river must be given a choice."
"A choice between what?"
"Taking you," the old man said softly, "or letting everyone else live."
---
Chapter Five: The Walk to the River
The village gathered at sunset.
No one spoke as Tunde walked toward the river, Baba Sadiq beside him. The sky burned orange, then bled into red.
Tunde's mother cried silently, clutching his shirt. "You'll come back," she whispered, though it sounded like a question.
At the riverbank, the water churned violently.
Baba Sadiq raised his stick. "River of memory," he called, "hear us."
The water calmed.
"Tunde," the river whispered eagerly.
Tunde stepped forward. His reflection warped, splitting into many faces—some familiar, some ancient.
"I am here," he said, his voice shaking but clear. "But you will not take them."
The river paused.
Then the water rose.