LOST IN THE ECHO OF YOU

THE VOICE IN THE SHADOWS

The voice lingered in Amara’s mind, like a melody sung by someone just out of reach. She tried to focus, tried to hold on to it, but the echo slipped away, fading like a morning mist burned off by the sun. Her hand fell from the roots of the baobab tree, leaving her breathless.

She stared at the tree, her pulse racing. The name she had heard—the one calling to her—it wasn’t just anyone’s voice. It was familiar, yet she didn’t know why. The voice had warmth, strength, and a strange sadness that tugged at her heart. Who could it be? And why did it feel so personal?

Muna’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “What did you see, child?”

Amara hesitated, glancing at her grandmother. Muna’s eyes were knowing and sharp, as if she could see the visions Amara had experienced just by looking into her eyes.

“It was… a voice,” Amara said softly. “Calling my name. It felt… close.”

Muna nodded thoughtfully, as if she had expected this. “The spirits of the past have a way of reaching out when we’re ready to listen,” she said. “They’re drawn to those of us with the gift. But you must be careful, Amara. Spirits don’t always tell the whole truth.”

Amara wanted to ask more, but a movement from the shadows caught her attention. She turned and saw Jabari approaching. He had watched from a distance, respecting her space, yet unable to hide his curiosity.

“Are you all right?” Jabari asked, his brow creased with concern. His dark eyes, usually steady and calm, flickered with a mix of wonder and worry.

Amara nodded, still feeling the echo of the voice within her. “I’m fine. Just… it’s hard to explain. I felt something. It was… intense.”

Jabari looked to Muna, then back to Amara. “I believe you. Even if it sounds strange,” he said softly, his tone reassuring. “Maybe you were meant to hear it. And if there’s anything you need… you know I’m here.”

Amara managed a small smile, comforted by Jabari’s presence. They had been friends since childhood, and though he often teased her for her curiosity about old stories, she knew he believed in her.

Muna’s expression softened as she watched them. “Jabari, take care of her,” she said, a subtle wisdom in her voice. “The path ahead is uncertain.”

Jabari nodded, his hand gently resting on Amara’s shoulder. “I will.”

As they walked back toward the village, Amara glanced back at the baobab tree, feeling a lingering sense of longing. She could still hear that voice, faint yet insistent, like a thread weaving through the fabric of her mind. And as the village lights came into view, she knew this was far from over.

Whatever awaited her in those echoes, whatever story lay hidden within them—she was going to find out.