The Weight Of Gold

The Market That Watches had begun to fade behind Iyi as he stepped onto a narrow dirt path winding through dense underbrush. The whispers of the market lingered in his mind—silent promises and threats alike—but ahead awaited a darker truth. The air grew heavy with tension, as if the very earth beneath him held secrets soaked in both gold and blood.

Iyi's thoughts were tangled with memories of his past—each choice, each sacrifice, each moment of hunger and hope. The weight of the second sponge he'd buried still lingered in his spirit, a reminder that no offering came without cost.

As he walked, the trees thinned, revealing a wide riverbank bathed in the cold light of a waning moon. The river itself seemed different here: its surface gleamed with flecks of gold, shimmering faintly like stars trapped beneath the waves. Yet beneath this gleam lurked something darker—shadows moving beneath the water, silent and watchful.

Iyi knelt by the river's edge, dipping his fingers into the cold flow. The water rippled, and faint voices drifted to him—whispers carried on the current, secrets from those who had passed before. The gold beneath the surface glistened, but the voices spoke of blood spilled in greed and betrayal.

A sudden splash startled him. He looked up to see a figure emerging from the river—a woman, tall and regal, her skin shining with a metallic sheen, as if forged from the river's gold itself. Her eyes were dark pools that held centuries of sorrow and fury.

"You walk the edge of riches and ruin," she said, her voice both enchanting and fierce. "Gold whispers promises, but blood shouts warnings."

Iyi met her gaze steadily. "I seek truth and balance, not riches."

She studied him, then nodded slowly. "Many come here hungry for gold, blinded by its gleam. Few see the price it demands."

She gestured to the river. "This water holds the memories of those who sought fortune and lost themselves. Their stories are written in the currents—tales of betrayal, sacrifice, and unfinished debts."

Iyi felt the river's pulse align with his own heartbeat.

"Why show me this?" he asked.

"Because you stand at a crossroads," she replied. "Your spirit is tested by wealth and power. Will you succumb to the hunger that once drove you, or will you choose the path of true strength?"

Iyi thought of the sponges, the false riches that dissolved to dust, and the burdens he'd carried and buried. He remembered the Market That Watches and its silent demands, the river bend where he faced himself, and the market of offerings without voice.

"I choose to walk with honesty," he said quietly. "To carry what I must, and release what I can."

The woman smiled, a bittersweet curve. "Then listen closely."

She reached into the river and pulled up a small, rusted drum, its surface cracked but still resonant.

"This drum once belonged to a man who traded his memory for gold," she said. "He lost more than his past—he lost his soul's song."

Iyi's breath caught.

"Do not repeat his mistake," she warned. "Wealth without wisdom is a curse. The spirits demand balance—give to receive, honor to gain, truth to wield power."

The river's surface shimmered as the woman stepped back, her form dissolving into liquid gold that flowed with the current.

Iyi sat quietly, the drum's silent echo ringing in his mind.

He understood then that the whispers of gold were seductive, but the shouts of blood were the price of betrayal and greed.

The journey ahead would test him more than ever—not just to survive, but to define the kind of man he would become.

As dawn broke, casting pale light over the river, Iyi rose with renewed resolve.

Gold might whisper tempting promises, but he would listen for the blood's warnings—and choose wisely.