Episode 5:
When Horns Blow Themselves
Silence spread through Panyam like smoke after a fire.
Everyone had heard it — the long, chilling blast from the horn of Ngwan Kum, a horn that no one touched, yet it blew by itself. The elders called it a “dor Nji” — a voice of the spirit.
And when spirits speak, mortals must answer.
🪔 The Secret in Da Dakyen’s Hut
As the horn’s echo faded, Muutfwang went back into his grandfather’s shrine — the same one where the horn had once refused to sound.
But something had changed.
In the corner of the hut, where the clay wall had cracked from the recent tremor, he noticed a loose panel. Behind it was a cloth-wrapped bundle soaked in oil and dust.
Inside the bundle lay a second staff, smaller and smoother than the first, with a carved symbol at its top — a coiled serpent encircling a drum.
Tied to the staff was a brittle scroll.
Muutfwang slowly unrolled it.
The writing was old. Faint. But readable:
> “Ka Mishkagham Kum yaghal — toghom kwat mpe duk ki Direp.”
(If the priesthood of silence rises again — bones and blood will rise with the guilt of Direp.)
⚖️ Blood for Silence
Muutfwang’s hands shook.
His grandfather, Direp Dakyen, had not just silenced the priesthood.
He had sealed it with blood — a sacrifice.
But whose?
Before he could dwell further, Da Kamshak entered quietly.
> “You found it,” the old drummer said.
Muutfwang turned.
> “You knew about this?”
Da Kamshak nodded.
> “I played the drum the day Direp took a boy from the hills — one of the last initiates. That boy was never seen again. His silence bought peace for 50 years.”
🌀 Echoes in the Wind
As news of the horn spread, elders in other communities began to call emergency meetings. In Ampang, an elder collapsed while praying. In Mangu, pots of sacred herbs burst into flame.
Something was stirring across Mwaghavul land.
The past was refusing to stay buried.
Even in sleep, Muutfwang heard the horn — blowing softly like a whisper only his soul could hear.
And then... he saw a face in his dream.
It was a boy, his mouth stitched with vines, standing beside the staff. The wind howled through his chest like a flute.
He pointed at Muutfwang and said:
> “My name was Mangle. I was never meant to be forgotten.”
⚠️ A New Fear
When Muutfwang woke up, the staff was no longer on the floor where he had left it.
It was now standing upright in the middle of the compound — planted in the earth like a tree.
And beneath it, the soil was bleeding.
🔚 End of Episode 5
> Next Episode: “The Boy with a Stitched Mouth”
0 Comments