I find myself standing in a twilight field beneath a sky of endless stars. The warm air hums with an energy I know in my bones. I sense this is more than a mere dream.
Far ahead, a lone baobab tree stands outlined in gentle light. I feel compelled to walk toward it. Figures emerge from the glow—at first wraithlike, then solid and familiar. An old man leaning on a carved staff, and a tall woman with eyes like mine. They form a circle around the tree, faces kind and patient. Though I have never met most of them, my spirit recognizes them at once. These are my ancestors.
A lump forms in my throat. Then one figure steps forward from the circle—a stout, dark-skinned woman with wise, gentle eyes and a bright headwrap. It's my grandmother, Nana, gone ten years now, smiling broadly at me.
"Yes, Obasi," she says, voice soft as a lullaby. "I am here."
I fall to my knees, tears springing to my eyes. She reaches out and places a warm hand on my shoulder. Love radiates from her touch, unraveling the knot of fear and longing I've carried for years.
"You've grown into a strong young man," Nana says proudly, squeezing my shoulder. The others nod and smile in agreement.
My voice trembles. "I—I tried my best... but I couldn't save everyone. Kofi—" I lower my head. "He died because of the battle. And my power... it's gone."
Nana kneels so her face is level with mine. "Hush, child," she murmurs, lifting my chin. Her eyes shine with compassion. "You carried the burden you were meant to carry. No one could have done more."
From behind her, a deep voice adds, "Thanks to you, balance has been restored." A familiar figure steps forward, tapping a carved staff on the earth—Elder Kofi, looking youthful and vigorous, eyes bright. He gives me a broad smile. "You did well," he says warmly.
"Kofi... I'm so sorry," I manage.
He chuckles softly. "Don't be. I have merely walked through a new door to join our ancestors. I could not be prouder of you."
Relief and sorrow mix within me. The circle of ancestors draws closer, enclosing me in their midst.
Nana speaks again, her tone gentle but firm. "Your gift of gravity was given for a purpose, and you fulfilled it. The power was never truly lost, Obasi—it simply returned to its source." She taps a finger over my heart. "In its place, you have gained wisdom and a bond to us that can never be broken."
The tall woman with my eyes steps forward and places a cool hand to my forehead. In a flash, memories not my own flood my mind—lives of those before me. I see villagers in ages past joining hands under an eclipse to push back a great darkness, and distant future children laughing freely under a gentle sun. Tears roll down my cheeks at the vast tapestry of which my small story is a part.
When she removes her hand, I gasp softly. My heart feels as if it will overflow, yet I am strangely at peace.
"There are many forces beyond Nyos," Kofi says, sweeping his staff at the glittering sky. "Some dark, some light—all part of the balance. You closed one door of darkness. In time, others may open. But remember, you will never face them alone."
"You are never alone," Nana emphasizes, squeezing my shoulder. "We, your ancestors, walk with you always. Trust in the guidance of spirit and the strength of your community. That is where true power lies."
I take a shuddering breath and slowly rise to my feet, the ancestors rising with me. All around, the stars throb gently in echo of her words. In this sacred gathering, I understand: it is the cosmic order itself—a vast ocean of spirit and time, and I am one part of it.
"Thank you," I say, turning in a slow circle to meet each of their gazes—my grandmother, Elder Kofi, and so many others whose blood runs in me. All of them connected to me, and I to them. "I will never forget this," I promise.
A breeze picks up, warm and fragrant, rustling the baobab's leaves. One by one, the ancestors begin to fade into the glow, their time with me ending. Nana is the last; she presses her forehead to mine lovingly.
"Our blood is your blood, our spirit your spirit," she whispers. "We are always with you. Now go forward."
With that, she too dissolves into soft light. The baobab and field of stars dissolve with her, and my vision gently darkens into deep, soothing night.
I awaken at dawn with damp cheeks and a fullness in my heart I have never felt before. The hut is quiet except for a distant rooster's crow and the first morning birds. Pale blue light seeps through the doorway as I sit up, Nana's final words echoing in my mind.
Outside, dawn breaks gently over Ntanda, and inside me a new sense of purpose unfurls with the light. My ancestors guided me through the night. Whatever comes, I will meet it with my ancestors at my back and my community in my heart.