LOST IN THE ECHO OF YOU

SHADOWS OF THE PAST

That night, Amara lay awake, her mind swirling with thoughts of the mysterious figure she’d seen. She replayed the scene over and over—the proud stance, the penetrating gaze, the way her name had been spoken, filled with both command and longing.

Amara’s curiosity gnawed at her, an itch she couldn’t scratch. She knew only one person would have answers: her grandmother, Muna. At dawn, she slipped quietly out of the house and made her way to Muna’s hut.

Muna was awake, sitting in her usual place by the fire, her eyes closed as she hummed a soft melody that filled the air with a strange calm. When Amara entered, Muna opened her eyes, as if she had known Amara would come.

“Child, I wondered how long it would take you,” Muna said, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Amara sat beside her grandmother, pulling her knees up to her chest. “Nana, I saw her again. Last night, by the field. She was calling to me, asking me to find her.”

Muna’s gaze grew serious, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. “Tell me, what did you feel when you saw her?”

Amara thought carefully before answering. “I felt… drawn to her. She felt familiar, but also distant, like a dream I couldn’t fully remember. But she seemed… sad, like she was waiting for something. Or someone.”

Muna nodded, her expression pensive. “You are hearing the echoes of your blood, Amara. They call to you because you carry their legacy. There is a story, an old one, hidden within our family. It was passed down by whispers, then forgotten by most. But you… you are meant to remember.”

“What happened to her, Nana? Who is she?” Amara asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Muna’s gaze dropped to the fire, her voice becoming soft and distant, as if she were reciting a memory rather than a tale. “Her name was Imara, a warrior from long ago. She was known for her strength and her loyalty, but her life was not one of peace. She was betrayed by those closest to her, left to wander the spirit world, bound by the pain of her final moments. And because she could find no rest, her spirit has lingered, waiting for someone to free her.”

Amara felt a chill as the weight of the story settled on her. “Why me? Why now?”

Muna placed a wrinkled hand on Amara’s, her eyes filled with love and sorrow. “Because you are her blood. Her story is yours, and until you understand it, it will keep calling to you. Spirits know when the time is right. You have been chosen to carry her burden, to set her free.”

The words hung heavy between them, and Amara felt a mixture of fear and awe at the responsibility. The life of a warrior, betrayed and lost, was calling to her. And yet, there was a spark of excitement—a sense that she was on the brink of uncovering something far greater than herself.

“Where do I start, Nana?” Amara asked, a new determination in her voice.

Muna’s eyes glistened, pride mingling with sadness. “The journey begins where Imara’s story ended. Find the place where her last breath was taken—the shrine in the forest. But beware, child. Spirits do not always reveal themselves kindly. You will face trials, and there will be times when you wish to turn back.”

Amara nodded, swallowing her fear. “I’m ready, Nana. I have to know.”

Muna squeezed her hand, her face softening with a bittersweet smile. “Then go, my child. Seek the shrine. And remember—whatever happens, the ancestors walk with you.”

As Amara left her grandmother’s hut, a sense of purpose filled her. She didn’t know what she would find, but she knew one thing: she would not rest until she had found Imara’s final resting place and given her spirit the peace it deserved