Chapitre 47: 47: The Witch's Curse

The morning sun had just begun to peek over the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the village of Daga. The air was crisp, filled with the sounds of roosters crowing and the distant hum of the river where the villagers would soon gather to begin their day. The village was alive with activity—men and women tending to their farms, children running through the fields, and the smell of fresh bread wafting through the air.

It was a day like any other, or at least, it should have been. But there was an unsettling tension in the air, a feeling that something was about to change. Ndagi, the leader of the small band of warriors who had taken refuge in Daga, could sense it too. He stood on the edge of the village, his eyes scanning the distant treeline where the Whispering Wood began. He had learned to trust his instincts over the years, and today, they were telling him that danger was near.

"Ndagi!" a voice called out, breaking him from his thoughts. He turned to see Sade, his closest companion and trusted advisor, approaching him. She was tall and strong, her dark skin glowing in the morning light, her eyes sharp with concern.

"Sade," Ndagi greeted her, his voice calm but tinged with unease. "What is it?"

"There's something you need to see," she replied, her tone serious. "It's the elders—they've gathered at the council hut, and they've asked for you to join them."

Ndagi frowned. The elders of Daga were wise and respected, but they rarely called for meetings so early in the day. Whatever was happening, it couldn't be good.

"Lead the way," Ndagi said, and together, they made their way to the council hut at the center of the village.

The council hut was a large, circular structure made of woven reeds and clay, with a thatched roof that provided shade from the sun. Inside, the elders sat in a circle, their faces etched with age and wisdom. There were five of them—old men and women who had seen more than their fair share of war, famine, and loss. They had guided the village through countless hardships, and now they looked to Ndagi with grave expressions.

"Elders," Ndagi greeted them with a respectful bow. "What is the matter?"

The eldest of the group, a woman named Kora, spoke first. Her voice was raspy with age, but still carried the weight of authority. "Ndagi, we have called you here because a great danger has come to our village. A curse—one that has not been seen in generations."

Ndagi's heart sank at the word. A curse was not something to be taken lightly, especially in a place like Daga, where the old ways and ancient magic still held sway.

"What kind of curse?" he asked, his voice steady despite the growing unease in his chest.

Kora's eyes darkened as she spoke. "The curse of the Witch of the Whispering Wood. She was once a healer, a wise woman who lived in harmony with nature. But long ago, she was wronged by the people of this land, and in her anger, she turned to dark magic. She cursed the land, the people, and anyone who dared to cross her path. It is said that her spirit still haunts the forest, waiting for the day when she can exact her revenge."

Ndagi listened intently, his mind racing. He had heard stories of the Witch of the Whispering Wood—tales of her power, her vengeance, and the destruction she had wrought. But those were just stories, passed down through generations. Could there really be any truth to them?

"Why do you believe the curse has returned?" Ndagi asked, his tone cautious.

One of the other elders, a man named Jumo, leaned forward. "Three days ago, one of our hunters went missing in the forest. His body was found yesterday—lifeless, with no sign of a struggle, no wounds, nothing. But there was something strange about the way he was found. His skin was pale, his eyes wide open, as if he had seen something terrible before he died. And on his forehead, there was a mark—a symbol that none of us recognized."

Ndagi felt a chill run down his spine. A mark on the forehead—could it be a sign of the witch's curse? He had seen many things in his time as a warrior, but this was different. This was something beyond his understanding.

"The mark," Ndagi said slowly, "what did it look like?"

Kora reached into the folds of her robe and pulled out a small piece of parchment. She handed it to Ndagi, who unfolded it carefully. The symbol drawn on the parchment was strange—an intricate design of spirals and lines, unlike anything Ndagi had ever seen before.

"This is the mark of the witch," Kora said, her voice trembling. "It is a sign that her curse has returned, and that she is not done with us."

Ndagi stared at the symbol, his mind racing. If the witch's curse was real, then they were all in grave danger. But what could they do? How could they fight something that was beyond the physical realm?

"There must be a way to break the curse," Sade said, her voice firm. "We cannot allow this to continue. We must find a way to protect our people."

Kora nodded slowly. "There is one way, but it is dangerous. The witch's power is tied to the forest—to the very land itself. If we can find her resting place, we may be able to put her spirit to rest and lift the curse. But it will not be easy. The forest is vast and treacherous, and the witch's spirit is strong. Those who have gone in search of her have never returned."

Ndagi considered their options. The villagers of Daga were strong, but they were not equipped to fight a curse of this magnitude. They needed help—someone who understood the old ways, who could guide them through the forest and help them break the curse.

"I will go," Ndagi said finally, his voice resolute. "But I will not go alone. Sade, you will come with me, as will Kwame and a few of our best warriors. We will find the witch's resting place and put an end to this curse, once and for all."

The elders nodded, their expressions solemn. "May the spirits guide you," Kora said. "And may you return safely."

With that, Ndagi and Sade left the council hut to gather their companions. They would need to be quick—the longer they waited, the stronger the curse would become, and the more lives would be lost.

As they prepared for the journey ahead, the village buzzed with activity. Women prepared food for the journey, while men sharpened their weapons and checked their supplies. The children, sensing the gravity of the situation, watched silently as the warriors made ready to depart.

Kwame, ever the jokester, tried to lighten the mood as he packed his belongings. "So, we're going on a witch hunt, huh? I've always wanted to meet a real-life witch. Maybe she'll grant us three wishes or something."

Sade shot him a look. "This is serious, Kwame. We're dealing with dark magic, not some fairy tale."

Kwame grinned, unfazed. "I know, I know. But if we can't laugh a little, what's the point? Besides, I'm sure Ndagi can handle anything the witch throws at us."

Ndagi smiled faintly, appreciating Kwame's attempt to ease the tension. "Let's hope you're right, Kwame. But just in case, stay close and keep your wits about you."

As the group set out, the villagers gathered to see them off. There were no tears or goodbyes—only silent prayers and hopeful glances. The forest loomed ahead, dark and foreboding, as if it were waiting for them.

The journey through the Whispering Wood was slow and arduous. The trees grew thick and tangled, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers to block their path. The air was heavy with the scent of moss and damp earth, and the only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the distant calls of unseen creatures.

The deeper they ventured into the forest, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. It was as if the very air was charged with dark energy, seeping into their bones and sapping their strength. The path became less defined, the undergrowth thicker, and the light dimmed as the canopy overhead blocked out the sun.

They moved in silence, their senses on high alert for any sign of danger. Ndagi led the way, his eyes sharp, his hand never far from the hilt of his sword. Sade followed close behind, her bow ready, while Kwame and the others brought up the rear, their weapons at the ready.

It wasn't long before they began to encounter strange occurrences. Shadows flitted at the edges of their vision, disappearing when they turned to look. The trees seemed to whisper, their leaves rustling with voices that were just out of reach. And always, there was the feeling of being watched—of eyes hidden in the darkness, following their every move.

"Do you see that?" Sade whispered, her voice tense.

Ndagi nodded, his gaze fixed on a spot in the distance. There, just beyond the trees, was a faint, glowing light—flickering like a distant flame. It was too far to make out clearly, but it was enough to draw their attention.

"Could be the witch's lair," Kwame murmured, his usual bravado tempered by the eerie surroundings.

"Or a trap," Sade added, her eyes narrowing.

Ndagi weighed their options. They could continue on their current path, or they could investigate the light and risk walking into an ambush. Neither choice was particularly appealing, but they had little time to waste.

"We go toward the light," Ndagi decided. "But stay close and be ready for anything."

The group moved cautiously, their steps slow and deliberate as they made their way toward the glowing light. The trees seemed to close in around them, the darkness growing thicker with each passing moment. The light flickered and danced, leading them deeper into the heart of the forest.

Finally, they reached a small clearing, and there, at the center, stood an ancient stone altar. The light emanated from a glowing orb that hovered above the altar, casting an eerie, unnatural glow over the surrounding area. The ground around the altar was littered with bones—animal and human alike—half-buried in the earth, as if they had been left there as offerings.

"This must be it," Sade whispered, her voice barely audible.

Ndagi approached the altar slowly, his eyes locked on the glowing orb. There was a palpable sense of power here, a dark and ancient force that seemed to pulse through the very air. He could feel it tugging at his mind, tempting him to reach out and touch the orb.

But he knew better. This was no ordinary relic—this was the heart of the witch's curse, the source of her power. And to break the curse, they would need to destroy it.

"Sade," Ndagi said quietly, "we need to destroy the orb. But we must be careful—the witch's spirit may be bound to it, and she won't let it go without a fight."

Sade nodded, her grip tightening on her bow. Kwame and the others moved to surround the altar, their weapons drawn and ready.

Ndagi drew his sword, the blade gleaming in the eerie light. He took a deep breath, steadying himself for what was to come. And then, with a swift motion, he brought the blade down on the orb.

The moment the sword made contact, a blinding flash of light filled the clearing. The orb shattered with a deafening crack, sending shards of light and energy exploding in all directions. The ground shook, and a piercing scream filled the air—a scream that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

And then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. The light faded, the scream died away, and the forest fell silent once more.

Ndagi lowered his sword, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The altar was now nothing more than a pile of rubble, the orb destroyed. But the sense of victory was short-lived, for as the dust settled, a figure began to take shape in the clearing—a figure that seemed to rise from the very earth itself.

The witch.

She was tall and gaunt, her skin as pale as death, her eyes burning with a malevolent light. Her hair hung in long, tangled strands, and her fingers were like claws, reaching out toward them. She was no longer bound to the orb, but her power was still formidable, and her anger was palpable.

"You dare to destroy my power?" the witch hissed, her voice like nails on a chalkboard. "You will pay for this with your lives!"

Ndagi and the others barely had time to react before the witch unleashed her fury. Dark tendrils of energy shot from her hands, lashing out at them with the force of a hurricane. They scattered, diving for cover as the witch's magic tore through the clearing, uprooting trees and sending debris flying in all directions.

"Fall back!" Ndagi shouted, trying to rally his group. "We can't fight her like this!"

But the witch was relentless, her attacks growing more frenzied with each passing moment. It was as if the destruction of the orb had only fueled her rage, giving her the strength of a thousand storms.

Sade loosed an arrow, aiming for the witch's heart, but the arrow disintegrated in mid-air, caught in the witch's dark magic. Kwame lunged with his spear, but the witch swatted him aside like a fly, sending him crashing into a nearby tree.

Desperation clawed at Ndagi as he realized that they were outmatched. They had destroyed the orb, but the witch's curse was still very much alive. And unless they found a way to stop her, they would all be dead within minutes.

But just as all hope seemed lost, a voice cut through the chaos—a voice that Ndagi recognized immediately.

"Enough!"

The voice was strong, commanding, and it brought with it a wave of energy that seemed to ripple through the very fabric of the forest. The witch froze, her eyes widening in shock and fear.

From the shadows, a new figure emerged—a woman, cloaked in dark robes, her face hidden beneath a hood. She moved with a grace that belied her age, her presence commanding attention.

"The Guardian," Ndagi whispered, his eyes widening in recognition.

The Guardian of the Whispering Wood, the ancient spirit who had appeared to Ndagi before, had come to their aid. She raised her hands, and the witch's magic faltered, the dark energy dissipating into the air.

"This is not your domain, witch," the Guardian said, her voice cold and unforgiving. "You have trespassed on sacred ground, and for that, you will be banished."

The witch screamed in defiance, but it was no use. The Guardian's power was too strong, her will too unyielding. With a wave of her hand, the Guardian unleashed a wave of light that engulfed the witch, banishing her spirit to the ether from which it had come.

The witch's scream echoed through the forest one last time before fading into silence. The clearing was still, the air heavy with the remnants of magic.

Ndagi and the others stared in disbelief, hardly able to comprehend what had just happened. They had come to break the curse, and they had succeeded—but not without the help of a powerful ally.

The Guardian turned to Ndagi, her expression softening. "You have done well, Ndagi of Kwame. The curse is broken, and the witch will trouble this land no more."

Ndagi nodded, still in shock from the battle. "Thank you, Guardian. We could not have done this without you."

The Guardian smiled faintly. "You are strong, Ndagi, but remember—there are forces in this world that even the strongest cannot face alone. You have friends, allies who will stand by your side in times of need. Do not forget that."

With those words, the Guardian began to fade, her form dissolving into the shadows of the forest. Ndagi watched as she disappeared, leaving them alone in the clearing.

The battle was over, the curse lifted, but the weight of what had happened still hung heavy in the air. Ndagi knew that they had only just begun to understand the true nature of the forces at work in this world. There would be more challenges to come, more battles to fight.

But for now, they had won a victory, and that was enough.

As they made their way back to the village, battered and bruised but alive, Ndagi couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. The witch's curse was just one of many threats that loomed over them, and the road ahead would be long and treacherous.

But they were not alone. They had each other, and they had allies in the most unexpected of places.

And as the first stars began to twinkle in the night sky, Ndagi found comfort in the thought that, no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together.

Ndagi and his companions have broken the witch's curse, but at a great cost. The forces of darkness are gathering, and the battles they have faced so far are only the beginning. As they return to the village, weary but victorious, they know that their journey is far from over. The witch's final words echo in their minds, a reminder that there are greater dangers yet to come. The road ahead is uncertain, and the stakes are higher than ever. But with the Guardian's warning still fresh in their minds, Ndagi and his companions are determined to face whatever challenges lie ahead—no matter the cost.