The morning after the Rite of Embers, the village of Mwezi was quiet, but not peaceful. The fire had burned too high. The drums had spoken too loud. And Kamau wa Mwezi had walked out of the Mbili Realm with golden light in his veins and a smirk on his lips.
He sat alone beneath the old baobab tree, chewing roasted cassava and watching the sun rise like it owed him something. His chest still tingled from the ash mark, and his dreams had been filled with whispers, some gentle, some sharp.
Ayo, his childhood friend, approached with cautious steps. She wore a blue wrap and carried a clay jug of water. Her eyes were wide, her smile hesitant.
"You're awake," she said.
Kamau didn't look at her. "I didn't die. That's usually what happens when you wake up."
Ayo rolled her eyes. "You could at least pretend to be humble."
Kamau turned to her, one brow raised. "Humility? That's for people who need to be liked."
Ayo sat beside him, handing him the jug. "You scared them, you know. The elders. Even Baraka."
Kamau drank, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Good. Let them be scared. They're boring when they're not."
Ayo frowned. "You're not a god, Kamau."
He leaned back against the tree. "Not yet."
Later that day, the council gathered in the Circle of Stones. Kamau was summoned, not invited. He walked in with his chin high, his steps deliberate. The elders sat in a ring, their faces carved from years and silence.
Baraka stood in the center. "Kamau wa Mwezi, you have passed the Rite. But the fire burned differently for you. The ancestors spoke louder. We must understand why."
Kamau folded his arms. "I'm guessing the ancestors have a low tolerance for repetition. They wanted to get their point across."
A murmur rippled through the circle. Elder Makari narrowed his eyes. "You speak boldly for one so young."
Kamau met his gaze. "Wisdom isn't measured in wrinkles."
Baraka raised a hand. "Enough. Kamau, tell us what you saw."
Kamau sighed. "A lion made of flame. A monster made of doubt. I crushed it. The lion called me Flameborn. Then I woke up."
Makari leaned forward. "And the whispers?"
Kamau hesitated. He hadn't told anyone about the final whisper, the one that came after the lion vanished. A voice, cold and ancient, had said:
"The Night Maw stirs. The blood of gods runs in your veins."
He had felt it like a blade pressed to his spine. But he wasn't ready to share that. Not yet.
"I heard nothing useful," he lied.
Baraka studied him. "Very well. You are Flameborn. But power without purpose is a curse. You must learn to wield your Uhai."
Kamau shrugged. "I already did. I crushed a spirit with my bare hands."
Makari stood. "You will train. You will learn discipline. Or you will be cast out."
Kamau smiled. "You can't cast out what you don't understand."
Training began the next morning.
Kamau was paired with Zuberi, a quiet warrior with arms like tree trunks and a temper like dry grass. They sparred in the dust, watched by elders and apprentices.
Zuberi lunged. Kamau sidestepped, tapped his shoulder, and grinned. "Too slow."
Zuberi growled and swung again. Kamau ducked, swept his legs, and pinned him.
Baraka clapped once. "Kamau wins. Again."
Makari scowled. "He fights like a trickster."
Kamau stood, brushing dust from his knees. "I just fight to win."
Baraka approached. "Show us your Uhai."
Kamau closed his eyes. He reached inward. The wells pulsed, Heart, Mind, Root. He pulled from the Mind Well this time. His forehead glowed faintly, and his eyes turned gold.
He raised his hand, and the dust around him lifted, swirling into shapes, a lion, a spear, a flame.
The crowd gasped.
Kamau opened his eyes. "Satisfied?"
Baraka nodded slowly. "You are gifted. But gifts can rot if not honored."
Kamau turned away. "Then I'll honor myself."
That night, Kamau sat by the river, watching the moon ripple on the water. Ayo joined him, silent for a while.
"You're changing," she said.
Kamau didn't look at her. "Change is survival."
"You're colder."
"I'm sharper."
"You're alone."
Kamau turned to her. "I'm never alone. The ancestors won't shut up."
Ayo laughed softly. "You're impossible."
Kamau smiled. "And yet, here you are."
She leaned her head on his shoulder. "Just promise me something."
"What?"
"When the world starts burning, don't forget who you are."
Kamau stared at the moon. "I won't. I'll be the one holding the torch."
Far away, in the Forest of Whispers, a creature stirred.
It had no name, only hunger.
It had slept for centuries, sealed by the blood of gods.
But now, the seal cracked.
The Night Maw opened one eye.
And it remembered Kamau's name.