Summer rains have come early to the African Sahel, sudden torrents turning pathways into rivers. I feel the disturbances of nature through the earth itself. From my sanctum deep in the Sahara, I perceive a pulse: panic, prayers, panic riding the wind all the way to me.
It's late afternoon when I arrive at the stricken oasis. Villagers scramble atop a ruined wall as the ground quivers. A low rumble grips the valley; the blue-black sky overhead flickers oddly, as if time is tearing at the seams. A young boy, eyes wide with fear, stands at the brink of a crater, his sister clinging to his arm.
Something is wrong: the river which should have been dry is surging as if from nowhere, and the earth cracks open to swallow whole palms. My heart freezes for a moment: gravity has lost its way here.
I do not hesitate. Hands outstretched, I weave an invisible web between rock and sky. Slowly, the earth stops trembling. The water pauses mid-flow, as if held in a giant glass. It hovers there, reflecting terrified faces.
Breathing steady, I command the current upward: it arcs over the village like a tide frozen in time. In that instant, villagers gasp, then cheer as the water gently cascades back to its riverbed. Cries of relief swirl around me; a few fall to their knees in gratitude or awe.
But inside me, the quiet is thunder. My power has rewritten fate, if only for a moment. Like a stone dropped in still pond, ripples of consequence will spread. A weathered old healer catches my eye, offering a grateful nod. I smile gently--though in truth, I am not smiling at all.
Walking away from the oasis as dusk falls, I feel something uncanny. The sky has knitted back together. But far on the horizon, I sense a distant tremor of chaos, as if a contract has been made I do not yet understand. Even as I return to solitude, the echo of that village's prayers hums in my bones. Balance is preserved here, but at what unseen cost?