Anene observes the river of her community, its vitality dwindling like a fading ember. The sun-baked earth is littered with withered leaves, the celestial orb in the sky hammering on the barren land.

"When the crops of our harbor wilt. When our water diminishes. When our burly bodies become scrawny, our eyes sunken, steps falter, skins brandish with boils and rashes, it's when our prayers  shall be answered?" Anene wonders aloud, her voice carried away by the wind. She closes her eyes and sighs. The gods seem to have forgotten about them, about her people. "Eze nwanyị mmịrị, please, help us. Do not forget us like them," she pleads, but the river's stillness grates against her skin, its lack of ebb and flow adding to her frustrations. Her parents have chosen not to take action, aligning with the offense the community committed by not performing the rite of Kamalu.  But aren't they human, her people? Aren't they flawed creatures whom the gods created in their image?

Suddenly, the river begins to ripple with bubbles so large, spinning in circles and generating a circular cylinder. A head bobs up, crowned with sea ornaments, adorned with a strange blue marking. Next, a face graced with an exquisite smile emerges, followed by her torso.

"Eze nwaanyị mmịrị," Anene bows. No, Children of Àlà don't bow to anyone but their parents. She genuflects. When the river goddess speaks, her voice is a lullaby, melodious notes that could lure an insomniac to slumber.

"Daughter of Àlà, your mother didn't forsake you," the river goddess reassures. Anene locks eyes with the goddess. If she didn't, why are their ears deaf to their prayers? "Search within you for the answer you seek. Only then can they sense your readiness." And just like that, she's gone, as if she wasn't there before.

*

Anene stands at the center of the drawn circle, candlelights flickering against the gloominess that shrouds the blue sky. The chilly wind and murky sky promise rainfall, and excitement courses down her spine. Thunder claps, lightning zigzags across the sky, and birds chirp away in fright. Anene feels a drop on her skin. She stares at the sky, averting her gaze at the shuffling of feet that draws her attention.

"Anene, what are you doing?" There's fear in her mother's voice, her face tinted with realization. The rain dance of the gods is a ritual that hasn't been performed for decades. It's considered forbidden because the last priestess, like her mother, who did it was struck with incurable madness. But Anene knows it's not the dance itself that's forbidden. It's the impurity of the dancer's mind. The previous priestess was consumed by selfish reasons.

"Mother, you know this is the solution but choose not to do it because —"

"Because the outcome isn't nice. It's a forbidden act for a reason. Anene, stop now before it starts to rain," her mother pleads. But the river goddess can't be wrong. Is this the answer she seeks?

"I read the forgotten book of the gods —"

"You what? Oh, the gods! Anene, stop now!" her mother bolts towards her.

Then the rain pours down in torrents.

Anene dances, her hands and feet gliding sideways in a slow rhythm. The drawn circle shimmers with a luminous light, its incandescent brightness stopping her mother, bathing Anene in a sea of radiant whiteness. She dances, calling on the gods, the spirit of the past priestess, her ancestors. They reveal their essence, the secret intricacies of the earth. Anene sees the gods in their divine plane. She dances as thunder crashes, lightning flashing in answer.

The rain continues to hammer down until it turns crimson, until it eats deep into the muddy earth, purifying the brown river. The crops germinate, their leaves blooming. Anene collapses on her knees, panting. The rain has returned to normal.

The nightwalker exists. They roam the land and cause havoc and will continue to unless the bloody rain dance is performed by the descendants of the first. The words from the book of the gods chime in her mind. Anene knows the mantle of priestess has been passed down to her. It's time to protect her kingdom.