Blur, foggy, faded. Her consciousness struggled to stabilize within the slightly distorted flows of the sembou's essence. For how long… how many centuries… she no longer knew; she vaguely felt her physical form surrounded by tree branches. All her strength, her essence, already fragmented, was so intensely focused on the force she channeled through those roots that she could do nothing else.
She fought to be… to exist… for she knew that if she let go even once, everything that should not be would continue to be. All her work… her dream… the near-blind trust he had in humanity… in her… it would all vanish. Thus, the only effort she could muster was reduced to calls. She hoped, she sought to reconnect one of the many broken threads, but no response came back.
She could not do more without drawing the gaze of her enemies, and she wasn't even sure she had the strength. Yet, she hoped someone would hear her, that someone would help her stop her children.
Do not let… these poor beings… Someone must stop… all this suffering… So that a new night may come… starless… heralding a new dawn.
Her weary mind could only dwell on these few words. But no one heard them.
She could feel the king's crown within his realm, its mere presence unbalancing the threads of reality, and on the other side, the heir simultaneously rebuilding them. The chaos grew stronger every day, but neither had the means to confront the imminent cataclysm. That knowledge, she alone could provide since that cursed day.
The day she had failed to understand.
I feel so tired…
She knew she didn't deserve it… But just once… she wished she could forget… Forget everything.
And as that thought, both tempting and melancholic, crossed her mind, a tremendous disturbance, like a vertical blow, violently disrupted the flows of the sembou. She felt her psychic projection slightly pushed back, shocked by this unprecedented event.
The king… The crown… no… more than that.
With minimal words, she grasped the full weight of the situation.
…Ndam? Yes… or no.
She couldn't fully comprehend it, but she knew this existence was of cruel irony. Like a warrior once called invincible, now bearing the name of the immortal...
Yet, she could do nothing else. As expected, the flows of the sembou restructured as before.
But one thing remained.
A tiny hole, as small as a grain of rice, in the essence of the shadows. A slight flaw, a dimensional rift that nearly awakened her fully and exposed her to the world. She approached it cautiously, trying to reach something… or someone through it. As long as the curse of immortality loomed over the world, such a thing should not exist. So what was happening?
The situation was far more unprecedented than anticipated. But she decided to focus first on this unexpected hole, to understand it better. If she proceeded carefully, perhaps he wouldn't notice.
She didn't know how long she had been trying to send her intent, however faint, to avoid detection. Days or an instant, her mind no longer kept track. Still, she clung to that hope when she sensed a presence approaching along the dimensional tunnel of this point.
She strengthened her intent slightly. The presence seemed to pause at each wall, hesitating along the way.
No… come this way… come.
Eventually, it drew closer, and she could finally behold it. An astral projection, or rather, half of what it should have been. Yet, it was perfectly stable, radiating a power she knew all too well.
The projection of a young girl, her heavy locks swirling in the ethereal environment, settled beside her. Her eyes, dark as a veil of shadows, studied her with curiosity, and she did the same. For a moment, long or short, they simply gazed at each other.
_ So young… and yet so broken… I am…
She couldn't stop her physical body's eyes from filling with tears, and in response, her projection mirrored that image. She wished she could apologize properly, without any misplaced pity. But perhaps it was seeing this first presence in centuries, a reflection of her own mistakes, that affected her so deeply.
The girl's eyes remained desperately cold. So she lowered her head to hide her tears, ashamed of showing herself this way. Then, as she regretted her weakness, a touch on her cheek made her shiver. The girl had taken her face in her hands and gently, delicately wiped her tears. She was cold, cold as icy water, yet there was a certain warmth in her gesture that comforted this being who had lived a life of solitude and melancholy.
_ Please… don't cry, the girl said.
Her voice was almost neutral, but a faint tremor of emotion broke through, like a crack in a wall of impassivity.
_ Tell me… who are you… and why are you in such a place?
Her tone was soft and consoling, this poor child who continued to gently caress her cheeks. The woman felt, for the first time in an eternity, a semblance of filial love directed toward her. Knowing their time was already limited, she stopped her tears and felt a new surge of determination.
"My name is Mame Coumba Lambaye, protector of Senegal… and mother of the sembou."
-------
Jeanne gazed at the being before her for a long time, this woman who had removed her hands from her face and now held them gently but firmly. Something deeper, on a metaphysical level, made her strangely affected by the presence of the one called "Mame Coumba Lambaye."
She appeared to be in her thirties. Her face was smooth and youthful yet carried a mature air. Her eyes were long, drawn with fatigue, yet they shone with an almost mesmerizing glow. Her hair was styled in a bun adorned with golden threads and white cowrie shells; the traditional dress she wore was white with black and gold runic patterns along the edges. At first glance, with her many necklaces and talismans, one might think she was a noblewoman from an African kingdom, yet she exuded a tenderness and warmth no one could resist.
That woman claimed to be Mame Coumba Lambaye, the one called the mother of the sembou, an entity of near-divine status, depicted in tales and legends as a peer of Atemit Sembe himself. The worst part was that Jeanne couldn't doubt her identity; she couldn't even believe she would lie.
This is really not a good sign. I feel too vulnerable in her presence.
Jeanne had no desire to dwell on the implications of such weakness, nor did she have the luxury to do so. She could sense her interlocutor had little time and lacked far too much energy. As they floated hand in hand in this strange place where the sembou seemed to waver, disappear, and reappear in chaotic yet organized flows, Jeanne asked:
_ Where are we?
She cast her gaze around, taking in the multitude of actions the sembou performed naturally, in a complexity that surpassed her. She also felt her own intent and was shocked to realize her influence on the sembou was but a fragment of a whole that continued to move endlessly. Here, she could see the sembou was alive, unstable, elusive, a collection of distinct entities united as one, yet each retaining its independence.
_ Is this… the origin point of the sembou?
Mame Coumba tightened her grip slightly, smiling with patience.
_ No… not the origin… the implications… the course and the movements…
Her voice was weary but soft as velvet. Yet her eyes filled with sadness as she added,
_ My téén…
Jeanne looked around again. Such a source of power wasn't just phenomenal; it was almost transcendent, divine. But upon closer inspection, the girl noticed this world reacted weakly to the protector's presence. Only the essence of light seemed to gather around her in a branch-like form. The rest of the sembou's flows seemed to both approach and retreat from her, like a child hesitating to embrace a forgotten aunt. It was strange… Unlike Jeanne, she sensed no other entity undermining her authority; she was alone in this infinity.
_ How?Jeanne asked. Why does your essence react this way?
_ Diminished, Coumba Lambaye murmured in a wounded tone, separated… a part of me… lost… I had to stay hidden… to protect…
Mame Coumba shivered, and Jeanne felt her presence flicker momentarily before stabilizing.
_ Not enough time…
Jeanne felt worry grip her stomach as she pushed her sembou's intent toward the woman. The latter's eyes widened as she understood her goal and gently pushed the energy back.
_ No, the woman said, smiling, he will sense it… the secret… must remain… confidential.
_ There has to be a way to help you, Jeanne retorted, already knowing who "he" was - after all, name have powers in this world. Where is your body? Maybe if I find it…
_ No… Not the priority… First… stop him…
She grasped her hand with more strength, urgency and despair in her eyes.
_ You must stop him… it's the first step… to fight the immortal… you must restore… the balance of death over life.
_ I know, Jeanne replied eagerly, I know that well! But I don't know how? I've been searching for years…
_ No… Already incredible… to have conquered the shadows… all alone and without help… be proud of yourself.
Jeanne felt her heart tighten at the sudden compliment, an emotional reaction that caught her off guard before she shook off her unnecessary feelings.
_ There's another way, isn't there? she insisted. I have some leads, but I'm sure you can help me make great progress in my search.
Mame Coumba Lambaye tried to catch her breath. Though she was only a spirit, she projected the image of her physical body directly. She seemed at her limit.
_ Search… the three books of the eras… the author… all the knowledge is there… seek the blind one who sees all…
The blind one who sees all—Jeanne didn't need to search far to know who that was. Suddenly, Mame Coumba's presence weakened further; she seemed almost transparent, and the touch of her hands became nonexistent for a moment.
"Oh, fuck, you're fading!"
_ Language, the woman scolded, her tone both stern and teasing despite her fading voice. Don't worry… I just lack the strength… to converse for long… all my remaining strength… is to protect…
Jeanne looked again at the flow of light in the form of branches in this space of forces, and the realization hit her like a meteor.
_ It's you… you're the source of power for the Gouy-gui barrier!
The revelation felt like the most insane and shocking piece of information of the day. To know that for 327 years, she had enough strength for such a feat… No, there were too many elements she didn't understand, too much context she was likely missing. But it was staggering, knowing she was greatly diminished. The girl now understood why her aura felt so familiar. It was the same force that had radiated across the entire country for nearly three centuries.
Mame Coumba's presence faded further. At the same moment, Jeanne felt a specific movement in her essence. Time was running out for her too, and Mame Coumba didn't fail to notice.
_ You must go now, my child…
_ When can we meet again?
Jeanne wished her voice hadn't sounded so plaintive; it was almost embarrassing. Mame Coumba, however, didn't seem to think so. She approached and, delicately, embraced Jeanne. Her presence was now so faint it had the mental consistency of mist, but it was enough to convey a flood of emotions too complex to express otherwise.
Jeanne almost wished to fall asleep like this, cradled in that embrace.
In her ears, the Paddaan heard the matriarch whisper:
_ …Thank you…
A word that carried immense weight. Jeanne felt it was she who should be thanking her, for allowing her to feel something other than the emptiness and oppression she carried. She closed her eyes momentarily, savoring what might be the last time she'd allow herself such a thing.
_ The one… at the origin of this rift…
Jeanne opened her eyes, her interest weighing like a stone in her stomach, preventing her from succumbing to the idleness she felt in this position. Was she about to reveal the mystery surrounding Georges Badji?
_ Cruel… fate… Be wary…
Mame Coumba was now little more than a faint, almost translucent white mist, but her words echoed one last time.
_But… save… show compassion… no one… should… live… like this…
And, as her presence vanished, Jeanne heard her add in a whisper:
_ Save… what cannot be saved…
Then… nothing…
Jeanne lingered in the sembou's space, lost in her thoughts and struggling to control her emotions. Then, suddenly, the environment began to shake, the sembou stirring violently. The téén reacted to the presence of a foreign spirit now that its owner lacked the strength to control it to that extent. Reluctantly, Jeanne slipped back into the rift and traveled through the tunnel she had created. Minutes later, she found herself on her large canopied bed, in the dead of night, in the dimness of her room. Her body, clad in a simple open blue nightgown and undergarments, was slightly numb, her mind in a foggy, drowsy state; only the sensation of Mame Coumba Lambaye's embrace reminded her it wasn't a dream.
The wide-open windows of the room let in the cold night air, causing the white curtains to dance gracefully above in a hypnotic, captivating sway. Jeanne watched them move, lost in her thoughts, particularly on the matriarch's final words. Her words were vague, but there was no doubt about the intentions she held toward Georges Badji. Wariness… but also a kind of salvific understanding. To not reject the anomaly as a monster but to see him as a person in his own right.
…If she knew what I plan to do with him…
Jeanne vividly recalled the warmth the boy's flames had spread throughout the space during the ceremony. A memory that sharply contrasted with the current temperature of her room, which she felt acutely on her skin. Reluctant to get up, the girl simply wrapped herself in her blanket, trembling slightly.
For the first time in two years, Jeanne felt again the weight of the solitude she carried like a cold companion on this evening.