Chapter 5

Years had passed since the night Tara first heard the whisper of the river. Kamala had changed — the people had forgotten the storms, forgotten Lami’s sacrifice, and lived as though the gods had vanished forever.

But one morning, the sky above Kamala turned gray. The air grew heavy, and the river that once shimmered with light now ran dark and restless. Birds stopped singing. Even the wind held its breath.

Tara stood by the riverbank, clutching the bracelet of glowing water that had appeared around her wrist the night she dreamed of Lami. She had tried to ignore it for years, but now the bracelet pulsed with light — brighter than ever before.

Then, she heard it again.

A calm, powerful voice rising from the water.

“Tara… the balance has been broken again.”

She fell to her knees. “Lami?”

The water swirled, and from its surface rose a tall figure made of shimmering blue light — Lami, radiant and serene.

“Yes,” said the spirit. “I have watched over Kamala since the day of my sacrifice. But the people’s greed has awakened something older than me — something even the Water God fears.”

Tara looked up, trembling. “What could be older than a god?”

Lami’s expression darkened. “The Fire Beneath. The spirit of flame and destruction that sleeps in the heart of the earth. When the balance of water and nature is broken, fire awakens to cleanse what men have ruined.”

Tara’s heart raced. “Then we must stop it!”

Lami stepped closer. “You can. For the Water God has chosen a new guardian.”

Tara’s eyes widened as the water around her rose and spiraled like a crown. “Me?”

“Yes. You are of my blood — a descendant of the first guardians of Kamala. The river called to you because your soul still remembers its song. But to protect Kamala, you must choose: remain human and warn your people, or surrender your life and take my place as the new Spirit of the Water.”

Tara looked toward the village in the distance — the people she loved, the home she had known — and then at Lami, glowing like the morning sun through waves.

She took a deep breath. “If my people must live, then I will give my life.”

Lami’s smile was sad but proud. “Then rise, Daughter of the Waters.”

The river erupted in light. The skies opened, rain pouring down like crystal threads. Tara’s body dissolved into the water — her spirit fusing with the rivers, the lakes, the very clouds above Kamala.

In the sky, lightning flashed — but it was not a storm of destruction. It was a storm of rebirth. The Fire Beneath fell silent, soothed by the harmony of water once more.

When the rain ended, the villagers emerged from their homes and gasped at what they saw. The rivers now glowed faintly blue again, just as they had in the days of Lami. And from the heavens, a voice spoke softly through the falling mist:

“Remember the waters. Remember balance. Remember us.”

From that day forward, the people of Kamala built a temple by the river — not of gold, but of stone and shells. They named it The Shrine of Two Spirits, honoring Lami and Tara, the guardians who became one with the waters to save their world.

And legend says that on nights when the moon turns blue and the wind carries the scent of rain, you can still hear their voices in the waves — whispering to those who will listen:

“The Water God lives — in every drop that falls.”

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