The morning after the ritual felt unlike any other. A serene hush settled over the valley as if the earth itself was holding its breath. Dew shimmered like diamonds on the leaves, and the air carried a subtle hum—a melody of life that only Ikenna could hear.
He stood at the edge of his field, eyes closed, letting the sound wash through him. It wasn't wind or insects. It was the land speaking. The soil beneath him pulsed softly, resonating with his heartbeat. When he exhaled, the rhythm deepened. When he inhaled, it answered.
Adaeze watched from a few steps away, her hands clasped tightly before her chest. "You've been standing there for an hour," she said gently. "Are you still hearing… it?"
Ikenna opened his eyes, which now gleamed faintly gold even in daylight. "Yes. The land is alive—stronger than ever. But it's not just growing; it's… calling to something."
"Calling?" she echoed. "To who?"
He looked toward the mountains far beyond the horizon. "I don't know yet. But whatever it is, it's getting closer."
Just then, a gust of wind swept through the fields. The golden crops swayed, whispering secrets Ikenna could almost understand. He knelt and pressed his palm to the soil, channeling a thread of spiritual energy into it. The ground responded instantly, rippling with light.
He saw flashes—images carried by the earth's memory. A vast desert. A silver river that glowed under a twin moon. And a shadow moving through mist—its form shifting like smoke, leaving blackened soil in its wake.
He jerked his hand back, breath quick. "Something dark is moving this way."
Uche, who had been tending to the irrigation channels, ran over. "Dark? Like a storm?"
"No," Ikenna said gravely. "Something worse. A corruption that feeds on spirit energy. If it reaches the Heart, it'll poison everything."
Elder Nnadozie appeared behind them, leaning on his staff. "So it has begun," he murmured. "When one life stirs, another seeks to devour it. Such is the balance of the world."
Adaeze frowned. "Then how do we stop it?"
Nnadozie's gaze turned to Ikenna. "The Heart of the Soil is bound to him now. The corruption will be drawn to that bond. If he can expand the Heart's influence quickly enough, he might purify the land before the darkness arrives."
Ikenna nodded. "Then we start now."
For the next several days, the farm became a place of ceaseless motion. Ikenna worked from dawn till dusk, expanding the reach of his cultivation field. He planted rows of Spiritroot seedlings—plants that drew energy directly from his life force and spread vitality into the soil.
Adaeze organized the villagers, teaching them to till and sow using techniques Ikenna had developed. Even Uche began forming small groups of younger farmers who followed Ikenna's energy channels with simple tools enchanted by runes.
Each day, the farmland glowed brighter. The crops grew to double their size in half the time, leaves shimmering like jade and gold. The villagers who once feared the strange energy now knelt in gratitude before the thriving earth.
But as the land prospered, the sky began to change.
Dark clouds formed in the east, rolling like waves of ink. Birds fled the valley, and the animals hid deep in the forest. Ikenna could feel it now—the corruption was near. It wasn't just a presence; it was alive, hungering.
That night, sleep refused to come. Ikenna stood beneath the moon, staring at the horizon where the darkness churned. The wind carried a faint, eerie whisper—a chorus of lost voices.
Then, from the soil at his feet, a low hum began to rise. He felt it deep within his chest, like a warning. He knelt and sent his awareness through the ground again.
He saw it.
A black mist creeping across distant lands, devouring trees, drying rivers, killing everything in its path. At the center of it was a figure cloaked in shadow, its eyes glowing crimson.
"Who are you?" Ikenna whispered.
The figure turned its head slowly, and though it was miles away, its voice carried directly into his mind.
"Guardian of Soil… You've taken what was mine."
Pain stabbed through Ikenna's temples. He stumbled, clutching his head. Adaeze rushed out of the house, alarmed. "Ikenna! What's wrong?"
He gasped for breath, his vision blurring with darkness. "It spoke to me… it knows who I am."
Nnadozie appeared again, staff glowing faintly. "The corruption's master. It's not a storm—it's a being. An ancient cultivator who once sought to enslave the Heart of the Soil."
"Why now?" Adaeze demanded.
"Because the Heart is awake again," Nnadozie said grimly. "And he will stop at nothing to claim it."
Ikenna straightened slowly, the glow of gold spreading faintly across his veins. "Then he'll have to go through me first."
The elder met his eyes. "You can't face him alone, boy. His power was sealed centuries ago by a hundred cultivators. You have only begun to understand yours."
Ikenna looked out over his land—his people—his home. "Then I'll learn faster."
Nnadozie's lips curved into the faintest smile. "Very well. Then from tonight onward, your training begins anew—not as a farmer, but as a Guardian."
The wind howled, carrying the scent of rain and shadow. The valley trembled as if bracing itself for what was coming.
Ikenna clenched his fists. "If the soil is my body," he said quietly, "then I'll make sure it never bows to corruption again."
And somewhere in the east, deep within the spreading darkness, the crimson eyes narrowed—watching.