Chapter 7: Mangrove Oracle

The road ended long before the fear did.

Gabriel and Jonah left the city before sunrise, following the faded map along a narrow coastal track. Asphalt gave way to red earth, and the red earth disappeared beneath tangled mangrove roots. The air grew heavy with salt and damp leaves. Even the birds had fallen silent.

“We can still turn back,” Jonah said, slowing his steps. Gabriel folded the map into his pocket. I’ve already lost too much to walk away.

After another mile, they reached a weathered footbridge stretching over dark, still water. At the far end stood a small hut woven from palm fronds, almost hidden beneath ancient trees. Strings of faded beads swayed gently although there was no wind. An elderly woman sat outside, mending a fishing net, without looking up, she spoke. “I wondered how long the children would take.” Gabriel stopped, You know who we are? She smiled faintly. “I knew before you were born.” Jonah lowered his eyes. “Are you Old Mother Nyanbo?”

The woman placed the net aside and finally looked at them. Her face carried the quiet weight of countless years. “Names matter less than promises,” Gabriel stepped forward, our father came here. Yes, he made a bargain and he chose one. Then end it.” Gabriel’s voice ached. The old woman shook her head, I keep covenants. I do not break them. She rose slowly and walked toward the edge of the water. The sea gave your father exactly what he requested. Gabriel clenched his fists and what did it take? For a long moment, she watched the tide. Then she answered without turning around. “It never took your futures, he offered them.”

The words struck Gabriel harder than any wave. Before he could speak again, Old Mother Nyanbo looked directly into his eyes. Tell your father the sea has waited twenty-eight years. Then she whispered the words that drained the color from Gabriel’s face. The debt will be collected before the next full moon.