The first stone was thrown quietly.
No noise.
No warning.
No blood.
Just a whisper moving through the veins of Mangu.
By morning, everyone had heard it:
“Akims is planning to run for office.”
The rumor did not start in the streets.
It was planted.
And like all dangerous seeds, it was meant to grow fear.
THE INVITATION
Three days later, Akims received a call.
“Doctor, the elders would like to see you,” the voice said politely.
“Tonight. After prayers.”
Elders did not call young men at night unless something was wrong.
Akims agreed.
The meeting place was an old hall near the outskirts of town — a place once used for peace talks during crises. A place heavy with memories and unspoken threats.
Inside, the air was thick with incense and tension.
Five men sat in a half circle.
Respected men.
Feared men.
Men who had survived politics by never standing too far in the light.
They did not ask him to sit.
THE WARNING DISGUISED AS ADVICE
“You are becoming popular,” the oldest one began.
Akims nodded.
“People are suffering.”
“That is not your job,” another elder snapped.
Silence followed.
Akims’ eyes moved slowly from face to face.
“Is it a crime to serve?”
The men exchanged glances.
“You are too young,” one said.
“You do not understand how power works in this land.”
Akims replied calmly:
“I understand how suffering works.”
That was when the temperature changed.
One elder leaned forward.
“Listen carefully, son. Politics is not about good intentions. It is about survival.”
Akims stood straight.
“Then the people have not survived long enough.”
The room froze.
They dismissed him shortly after — with smiles that did not reach their eyes.
Outside, Akims felt it in his bones.
The line had been crossed.
THE FIRST BETRAYAL
The betrayal came from someone he trusted.
A childhood friend.
A man who had shared bread with him.
A man who had promised loyalty.
That night, the friend met with the very men who feared Akims most.
“He’s stubborn,” the friend said quietly.
“He won’t back down.”
“What does he know?” one man asked.
“He knows everything,” the friend replied.
“And the people listen.”
The oldest man smiled thinly.
“Then he must be taught silence.”
The deal was sealed with a handshake.
THE STREETS BEGIN TO TALK
By the next week, lies were everywhere.
That Akims was funded by foreign interests.
That he was religiously dangerous.
That he wanted to divide the land.
That he was too educated to understand “local realities.”
Akims heard them all.
He said nothing.
Instead, he walked the streets.
He listened.
A young woman stopped him one evening.
“Sir,” she said, holding her child, “is it true they want to stop you?”
Akims knelt to the child’s level.
“Do you see the sun?” he asked.
The woman nodded.
“They can’t stop it either.”
THE MOVEMENT NO ONE PLANNED
What the men in dark rooms did not expect was that the people had already chosen.
Without instruction, youths began organizing.
Not rallies.
Not protests.
Conversations.
Quiet gatherings.
Shared meals.
Plans whispered in classrooms and farms.
The movement had no name.
But it had belief.
And belief is more dangerous than anger.
THE SECOND MESSAGE
Late that night, Akims’ phone vibrated.
Another unknown number.
“This is your final chance. Withdraw or face consequences.”
He stared at the message for a long time.
Then he did something unexpected.
He forwarded it to three trusted people.
And added one sentence:
“If anything happens to me, remember this.”
For the first time, fear touched him.
Not for himself.
But for those who stood with him.
THE MOMENT THAT SEALED FATE
At dawn, Akims walked alone to the edge of town.
He stood where the valley opened wide and whispered:
“If this road ends in pain,
let it at least lead to truth.”
Behind him, unseen, someone took photographs.
Somewhere else, a plan was finalized.
And somewhere deep in the machinery of power, a file was opened and labeled:
TARGET.
🔥 END OF CHAPTER TWO
Coming next:
CHAPTER THREE — THE VOTE THAT WAS NEVER COUNTED
(where manipulation begins, loyalties crack, and destiny tightens its grip)
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