THIRTY-SEVEN IN THE STILLNESS.

Swaying, Oma jolted back to consciousness. She felt the stillness surrounding her long before her eyes shot narrowly open. 

“Uloma?” 

She said out loud to herself, as if tasting the word. What a queer name, she thought, but the name felt familiar; had she known an Uloma? Oma wondered as she attempted to look around her. She felt disoriented, her vision blurred, and, refusing to focus, her thoughts felt clouded. She put her hand to her forehead, willing the queasy feeling to pass. Where was she? She wondered, as images from that night flashed through her mind; she had been at the coming-out ceremony, it was the last day of the ceremony, it was the night of the contest. The prince! She thought as her vision cleared, he had been so much better than she at archery. Was that it? Something told her that there was more, more that she was refusing to remember. Something else told her to look outside of her musing, but she shook her head at whatever it was. She did not want to look around anymore; she did not want to open her eyes any wider than the squinting she was doing. She could not explain it to herself, but she was aware that something strange had happened, something that was her fault. 

“You have to pay up. I told you it was one of them.” 

Oma heard someone say. She shot her eyes tight when she realised who had spoken. Everything was all wrong; they, even being here, was wrong. 

“You are not serious, I am not even sure she is not frozen like everyone else.” 

Another voice Oma had never heard before spoke. Oma’s mind searched and failed to find a face for the voice. 

“I felt her; she did this.” 

The first voice said. They sounded giddy from excitement. 

“It is not every day that you meet a real prophecy in person. Oh, how jealous our ancestors would be. They prepared their whole lives for her and died never meeting her.” 

The voice continued. Oma felt them circle her. She saw the finger in her mind before it attempted to prod her. Oma angled away before the finger could touch her. Her eyes were shot even tighter now. She had no idea what was happening or what they were talking about, but she did not want any part in it. 

“You are too disrespectful, don’t gloat at the expense of our ancestors who work hard watching over us, and how can you even prod her? What if you were right and she was the prophecy?” 

“Sister, I can assure you that she is.” 

“You thought it was her sister, you have changed your mind now, but leave it to your arrogance to still speak with certainty.” 

“I know, I know, her sister is cute. I felt that it was one of them, and maybe her cuteness shaded my senses, but you can feel it with her, can’t you? She did this; she froze the entire kingdom.” 

“Little sister, please open your eyes. My brother and I can be a lot, but we promise we mean no harm.” 

The second voice said directly in front of Oma. Oma considered her rich voice for a second. It was the princess, maybe she had been aware of that from the beginning, and it was not them that she was frightened of. 

“You don’t scare me.” 

Oma told her as she opened her eyes. The princess stood too close, her strong features filled Oma’s vision, and she smelled of flowers and herbs. 

“We shouldn’t.” 

The princess agreed, nodding, every action she took appeared practiced to Oma. 

“Is everyone really frozen?” 

Oma asked her, and she smiled, her face lighting up. It was strange to see her face softened like that, but she looked almost beautiful and less handsome, as if she were someone who could potentially be ordinary. 

“You must not know your own strength, but that is okay. We will train you.” 

“Train.” 

Oma tested the word in her mouth, and a second later, Oma’s eyebrows shot up. 

“I am going to be part of the chosen for the palace?” 

She started, but she remembered the contest, and her face fell. 

“The prince was infinitely better than I was. I could not possibly be chosen for the palace.” 

The princess laughed at her; her laughter was as rich as her speaking voice. Oma thought that might be because she did not laugh often; maybe her laughter was piling up, so that whenever she let it out, it sounded like it did now, full of quality and wealth. 

“You were the reason the contest was instituted. The prophecy said that you would be born in this village, with talents beyond your age. You are the reason for this tradition.” 

Oma shook her head. 

“Me?” 

How silly, she thought, she was not this prophecy that the princess kept mentioning, and how could someone be a whole prophecy? 

“What are you talking about?” 

Oma asked, frowning. The prince walked over to them. 

“You do have powers, don’t you?” 

Oma nodded, then shook her head, because that did not mean anything. 

“You froze everyone here, did you or did you not?” 

Oma thought about it for a second. She wanted to say that she had not done this, but she felt them all, every one of them. They were the reason for her queasiness. At her core was a knot that held on to every consciousness around her. She had no idea how she had done it, and she had no idea how to undo it. And she was worried that thinking too hard about it would make it worse. Any worse than it already is? A voice asked, but she ignored it. The prince had asked a question, and he and the princess were watching her for an answer. 

“Did you not freeze all these people?” 

The princess repeated. 

“I... it was not intentional.” 

Oma answered, averting her eyes from their piercing gazes. These two were not trying hard to beat the rumours that royalties were spirit people. 

“Eh, that is okay. Someday, you will freeze an entire village, and it will be intentional; we will make certain of it. You are going to get the best training, never you worry.” 

Oma considered the princess; she seemed overly excited for someone standing among frozen people. 

“I cannot undo this.” 

Oma admitted in a small voice. 

“Oh, please, this is magic we learn pretty early on. Binding and unbinding spell. You are holding their strings and essence bound to your core.” 

He said 'core' by pointing to his midriff. 

“We will unbind them now.” 

~ 

A tingling sensation spread through her, rousing her from a deep slumber. Obuzor’s mother wiggled her toes, letting them curl into the earth; she felt the grainy earth. She let the sand act like an anchor, stabilising her. The wave of complete consciousness poured through her, bringing aches and cramps with it. The elderly woman groaned, holding her palm to her waist, and letting it act as another anchor for her body. Her mind raced, trying to remind her body where it was and why it was there. When her memory had caught up with her surroundings, her eyes followed the crowd of statue-like people, her heart pounding in her ears. She willed desperately for her limbs to move; she had to find her family. But her legs felt frozen. Panic held her in place, refusing to let her go. Age and copious amount of liquid consumed that night conspired to put pressure on the aged bladder. Liquid poured out of the elderly woman, like the fear seeping out of her. Her body shook, not from convulsion but from the realisation that she was witnessing something unseemly, something evil and wrong, something that must also have her family, and she was helpless to save them. 

A voice rose towards her; she recognised it at once, even in her petrified state. It was her granddaughter’s. 

“Mah namayoni li tam from my hold.” 

Her granddaughter was chanting. Obuzor’s mother let out a strangled cry, and it sounded pathetic to her ears, like whimpering. Her granddaughter, she had to reach Oma; she had to save her. Oma was coming awake like she had, she thought, even as the words from Oma’s chants rang out into the silent night, revealing themselves to the elderly woman’s denial. 

“She is doing this.” 

Obuzor’s mother’s strangled voice managed. Her racing heart at this realisation thumped openly and maddingly in her chest, fighting for escape. As the elderly woman fell to the ground, her last thoughts were for her granddaughter and how special she had always been. They all suspected, they all feared, but she was far more than anything that they feared, far more special than she had suspected. She prayed to her ancestors, begging them for more time; more time to help her family navigate this unexplored and undefined territory, with Oma. There was still so much her family needed her for, as their matriarch.