The second wave fell like a night being overturned.
Diala didn't even have time to raise her arm.The Shadows burst from the ground—not like enemies charging, but like memories ripped out of the earth.They were more numerous.Faster.Heavier.
"Close ranks! CLOSE RANKS!" she shouted.
Arbi primed his Fanga-Tiri.His pupils vibrated, as if the Nyama itself refused to stay still.
The Root Network trembled beneath their skin.But this time, the pulse wasn't stable—it shivered.
The command hall darkened.
Not because the light dimmed.Because the Nyama itself shifted tone.
Kani Sira's sphere became clouded, as if an invisible feather traced cracks over its surface.
"Second wave. Denser. More… heavy," she said, her features tense.
Sambaké clenched his fists.
"Heavy? Those things don't even have weight!"
"Exactly," Nana replied. "If something weightless becomes heavy, it means someone is pulling behind it."
Everyone understood.
Someone.Not "something."
Famory opened his eyes.
His grey gaze cut through the room like a blade drawn slowly from its sheath.
"The Inverted Hunter," he murmured. "He's beginning to guide the flow."
A chill ran down Djata's spine.
Not fear.Pure intuition, like a warning carved into his skin.
"That means… the third wave will be worse?"
Silence.
Then Faama Bamba answered, his voice almost soft:
"It means the third wave won't be a wave anymore.It will be a decision."
The sphere flashed violently.
They saw Arbi shouting something.Diala stepping back.The ground exploding beneath the Donso's feet.
"They're losing the rhythm!" Kani Sira exclaimed.
The rings around the sphere trembled.
Up on the balcony, Balla stopped playing for a heartbeat.His eyes widened, as if the Word itself sensed a dissonance.
"Faama…" the jeli whispered, "the Mandé is losing a beat."
The room froze.
Famory placed a hand on the table.The copper lines shivered under his touch.
For the first time since the conflict began, he said:
"We have to move. Now."
Djata turned to him, shocked.
"You?"
Famory gave a joyless smile.
"I'm not going to the front. Not yet.I'm going to contain the flow so Diala survives the next minute.Without that, JARA won't even have a battlefield to enter."
Arbi fired.
The Fanga-Tiri unleashed a beam of blue so intense it tore a scream from the wind.
It struck a Shadow.
But this time…
It didn't disperse.
It absorbed.
The beam bent inside its body, swallowed, curving back like a river forced to retreat.
"Captain… It's coming back— the shot is coming back toward us!"
Diala didn't hesitate.
"DOWN!"
The blast detonated behind them, lifting dust, knocking two Donso off their feet.
"They're learning," she breathed. "These things are learning."
A Shadow appeared right in front of her.
She lifted her bow—but too late.
A thin black hand cut through the light, striking for her throat.
Diala saw death coming.
And yet—
The hand stopped a few centimeters from her skin.Vibrating.Twisted.Held back.
By what?
By a heartbeat.
A single one.
The ground pulsed beneath her boots—sharp and violent, like thunder snapping through the earth.
The hand shattered into dust.
Diala staggered.
"…Faama?"
Arbi understood before she did.
"He's holding it… He's holding the entire line!"
The ground roared a second time.
Then a third.
Each pulse was a shock running up their bones—a force not only from the earth…
But from a will.
Faama Bamba trembled.
Not his face.Not his hands.
His Nyama.
He was channeling so much flux that the room seemed to bend around him.
Djata stepped closer.
"Faama… you're pulling too much. You're going to—"
"I'm holding," Bamba said softly.
Even Famory stepped back half a pace.
Kani Sira watched the battle as if witnessing an impossible dance.
"The front… is rising. The Shadows are slowed… but not stopped.We have maybe… thirty seconds."
"Thirty seconds?" Bory breathed. "That's nothing!"
"It's more than we need," said a cold voice.
Sirani.
She had just fastened her combat armband.Her squad stood behind her—silent, grounded, already aligned.
The serpent bowed before the Faama.
"This is the moment. JARA can strike."
Famory placed a hand on her shoulder.
A rare gesture.
"You're sure?If your rhythm slips even a little—"
"That's how you dance with darkness, Famory.If you wait for it to invite you… it eats the music."
Famory smiled.
A real smile.Short. Dangerous.
"Then go.And show them what a Donso beat is."
Sirani and her squad reached the Root Terrace, the stone platform just outside the Grand Tree—close enough to receive the full force of the Root Network,exposed enough that every pulse of Nyama hit the front directly.
The wind already carried the scent of battle.Each heartbeat of the earth vibrated beneath their feet.
Sirani stepped forward.
This time, she wasn't speaking to someone.
She was speaking to the world.
"Then… we dance."
She raised her hand.Her fingers traced a rapid circle, etched with invisible Mandingue motifs, making the air tremble.
Behind her, the squad moved.
No words.No shouted orders.
Each warrior positioned themself like pieces of a living mechanism—a perfect circle, shoulder to shoulder, each breath compensating the next.
Nana, watching through the Nyama sphere, widened her eyes.
"Their rhythm… it's changing. They're breathing together."
The circle grounded itself.Each one placed a hand on the earth.The Root Network answered, trembling.
Sirani opened her golden eyes.
"Phase One. Totem alignment."
Her serpentine aura unfurled—fluid, slow, precise, like venom dropped into clear water.
Her soldiers echoed her rhythm.Their auras grew thin, taut, focused.
Famory murmured, impressed:
"Perfect synchronization…They must have trained for months in the bush to reach that…"
Faama Bamba pressed his palm to the ground.The Grand Tree reacted instantly.Its roots vibrated, lighting the hall with green and ochre.
"I'll carry the surplus," he said. "Continue."
Sirani tightened her circle of fingers.
"Phase Two. Core closure."
The individual auras retracted—as if each hunter swallowed their own Nyama at once.
The ground vibrated in spirals.Lines of the Root Network lit up one by one, converging toward them.
At the front, Arbi felt the earth heat under his foot.
"Captain… something's happening."
Diala nodded, not understanding, but sensing the shift.
In the command hall, one of the sphere's rings snapped—not from weakness,but from overload.
Kani Sira gasped.
"They're concentrating too much! If they pass the threshold—"
Famory placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Let them.This is how a living Totem is born."
Sirani inhaled once more.
Then she spoke the word her squad had been waiting for:
"Final phase.JARA… opening."
The entire circle struck the ground with their fists—at the same instant.
The world flipped.
A silent shockwave burst outward,like a massive bubble compressed, then bursting without sound.
The nearest Shadows froze.Their forms trembled.Invisible cracks slithered under their dark skin.
At the front, Diala's eyes widened.
"Their… rhythm.It's breaking…"
Arbi lifted his Fanga-Tiri.The blue light buzzed louder.
"Captain… I think the world just took a beat away from them."
In the command hall, the Faama's voice descended like an ancient rumble:
"JARA is active.Let the night learn…that Do can bite."
The third wave of Shadows hesitated.
Just a second.
But one second…was enough.