The world had not yet understood that JARA had struck…
But the plain had felt it.
A heartbeat had just gone missing.
The Shadows did not stop — they kept advancing.They were not frozen, not shattered.But their regeneration, their rhythm, their speed of recomposition…
…had slowed.
They trembled.A shiver in the night.A hesitation only the Donso could recognize.
To ordinary eyes: nothing had changed.To a hunter: it was a breach wide enough to swallow a kingdom.
And Diala felt that exact moment.
Her heart ignited.
She slung her bow across her back — sharp, solemn — and gripped her Fanga-Tiri in spear mode.The weapon vibrated, reacting to the world's shift in tempo.
Around her, the Donso steadied their breaths, startled by the new mechanics of the night.Dozens of Shadows flickered, struggling to reassemble.Some vibrated, others frayed apart, others pulsed like a heart beating late.
Now, Diala thought.
She inhaled deeply.Then she stepped forward.
A single step.
But that step silenced the entire Donso line.Even the wind paused.
The Shadow forms quivered, unstable, like insects missing a vital limb.Still hostile — but out of sync.
Diala raised her spear.Her voice burst out, sharp, resonant, carried by the Nyama itself.
"SOLDIERS OF DO!"
The ground echoed.
"Since dawn, we've struck at the night — and the night laughed at us.It reformed.It returned.It devoured our breath, our strength, our time."
She drove her spear into the soil.
BAOUM.
A wave rippled through the earth.
"But listen to it now…Listen closely."
She closed her eyes — one second.The whole plain vibrated beneath her feet.
A clear beat.
New.
Pure.
"We just stole a heartbeat from it!"
The Donso shuddered.
"Understand what this means :
THE NIGHT CAN FALTER. THE NIGHT CAN FALL. THE NIGHT FEARS TO HESITATE."
A storm burned in her eyes.
"Today, we are not here to survive.We are here to make the world breathe.To remind the night…"
She lifted her spear high.
"THAT THE MANDÉ STILL EXISTS!"
The Donso roared.Their totems ignited behind them :
A leaping leopard's silhouette, glowing bull horns, fierce outlines of cheetahs, flashes and wings of eagles.
Falcon lights, massive rhinoceros phantoms…
An army of spirit warriors rose, layered over the soldiers.
Diala spun, her voice thundering.
"DONSO! THE RHYTHM IS OURS! THE ANCESTORS WATCH US! AND THE SHADOWS…"
She aimed her spear forward.
"… NO LONGER HAVE THEIR TEMPO!"
And she screamed:
"CHAAAARGE!!!"
Do erupted.
The Donso surged forward, roaring, their totems blazing, weapons raised.
The Nyama, amplified by :
The Root Network, the Faama's will, JARA's rhythm.
fed their sacred fury…
…and it unleashed itself like a living tidal wave.
The Shadows tried to re-form.Too slowly.
Their essences — usually invisible — became exposed cores, cracked, flickering, shining like black lanterns veined with purple light.
And the Donso struck.
The first line hit the Shadows with a devastating burst.Dozens of essences shattered at once.The ground rumbled.The roots sang.The totems roared.
A dance of red and gold.
A dance of the Mandé.
At the top of the ridge, Balla placed both hands on his ngoni.The air vibrated.
He closed his eyes, and his voice rose — ancient and new, solemn and wild.
"When a man loses the rhythm, his heart falters.When a people lose the rhythm, their world collapses.But when an army finds the heartbeat of the world again…"
He exhaled softly.
"…even the night bows its head."
He tuned a single string.The sound was so pure that even the wind froze.
Then he spoke, deeper:
"They say light fights.They say shadow devours.But I tell you this : The Nyama listens.And today…"
His thumb pressed the main string.
"…it listens to us."
The Word split the sky.
The melody unfurled like a wave of fire and light.The soldiers felt their steps synchronize.Their thoughts clear.Their Nyama align.
A sentence echoed inside each of them :
"We do not die today.We make the Mandé breathe."
Diala leapt.
Her totem — a translucent golden gazelle — appeared behind her, immense and lightning-fast, breaking the air itself.
She sliced a Shadow in half.
Its exposed essence flickered — then died.
Around her, the Donso advanced like an ordered tide.Every strike hit a fracture.
Every spear found a core.Every roar shook the night.
The Shadows fell back.They had never retreated.
It was a sight no one had witnessed since the founding of Do.
In the command hall, the sphere glowed with new intensity.
The rings spun faster.Images flashed :
Diala tearing through three Shadows at once, Arbi piercing an entire cluster, Totems erupting with light, Essences shattering like black-purple glass.
Sambaké :
"By the ancestors… they're making the night retreat!"
Dioma :
"Look, Bory! They're destroying essences by the dozens!"
Bory, trembling with excitement :
"Do… DO IS DANCING WITH DEATH!"
Nana, calmer but eyes blazing :
"No…They are imposing the measure."
Famory smiled.
A dangerous smile, his grey eyes vibrating.
"This is it…The Mandé when it decides to breathe."
Djata clenched his fists, feeling the Nyama coursing through him.Vespera throbbed at his side.
A voice echoed in his mind :
"Not bad, little lion…But this is only the first step."
Djata answered silently :
— You talk? Now?
"When the world sings, it would be rude to stay silent."
The battle raged on.The Shadows staggered back, gasping, fractured.
The Mandé had gained a heartbeat.
A single one.
But sometimes…
one heartbeat is enough to change a destiny.