Miss Fiona’s voice quivered slightly as she continued, the weight of the story pressing down on her, as if reliving it alongside Gershion.

“The next day, the skies were still angry,” she began, her eyes distant, as though seeing the village of Nyamekrom in a distant past. "Heavy clouds clung to the mountains like a shroud, and the village seemed frozen in the aftermath of the storm. The elders, their faces lined with fear, gathered with the oracle at dawn to do what they thought was right—to cast you away, Gershion, in hopes that the gods would look upon Nyamekrom with mercy again."

Gershion’s brows furrowed, his mouth parting as if to speak, but he remained silent, hanging on to every word.

“They believed you were cursed,” Miss Fiona continued, her tone tinged with bitterness. “Ignorant of the battles that rage between angels and demons, the villagers only knew what their ancestors taught them. To them, the strange mark you bore, the storm, and your parents’ deaths were signs that the gods had turned away from you, from all of us. They didn’t understand the power inside you or the forces beyond their control.”

She paused, letting her words sink in. Gershion, wide-eyed, couldn’t help but ask, "What happened to me after they took me?"

Miss Fiona drew a deep breath, her eyes meeting his with a mix of sorrow and defiance. "The elders decided to take you to the River Tupre, where villagers offered prayers and sacrifices to the river god. The oracle led the way, clutching you in her arms, wrapped in cloth, as if your small form could hide the weight of what they believed you carried.”

“The riverbanks were always beautiful,” Miss Fiona sighed, as if remembering better days. “But not that day. The trees lining the path seemed darker, their branches like twisted fingers, reaching out as if even nature itself feared what was about to happen. They believed that by casting you into the river, they would be freed from whatever curse the gods had placed upon them.”

She glanced at Gershion, her expression softening. "But the river god rejected you. The oracle chanted her incantations, and as she raised you over the water, something... happened. The river churned, turning dark and violent, refusing to accept the sacrifice. The water turned red, as if the earth itself bled, and from the depths came a scream—an unearthly sound that sent the elders into a panic."

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Gershion’s breath hitched, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “The river rejected me?”

Miss Fiona nodded slowly. “Yes, Gershion. The river god refused to take you. The oracle herself was terrified, and the elders, well, they realized that you weren’t like any ordinary child. You were marked by something beyond their understanding.”

The silence between them was thick, but Miss Fiona pressed on. “They didn’t know what to do. They were afraid of keeping you in the village, but they were just as afraid of what might happen if they let you go. The chief and the elders decided to abandon you—not by the river, but in an old, decrepit hut at the edge of Nyamekrom. The hut was said to be cursed, a place where no one dared to tread.”

Gershion felt a cold chill settle in his bones. “They left me... alone?”

Miss Fiona’s voice softened. “Yes, child. They left you there, thinking that by isolating you, they could protect themselves. But not everyone agreed. Your brother Cletus and your sister Mariam—they tried to stop it. They begged the chief to let them take you, to raise you themselves. But fear had already gripped the village. The elders ordered them to be taken away, and so, the chief’s decision stood.”

The air between them was heavy, the truth of it like a stone pressing down on Gershion’s chest. “And after that?”

Miss Fiona's lips trembled as she spoke, her voice now barely above a whisper. “They placed you in that hut, locked it, and left. The village gong sounded, announcing that from that day forward, you were cursed and anyone who tried to help you would share in your fate.”

Gershion swallowed hard. “Did anyone come for me?”

Miss Fiona looked away, her eyes misting. "Your brother and sister tried, Gershion, but they were forbidden. They could only watch from afar, helpless. And there you stayed, in that hut at the edge of the village, alone... but you survived. Because what the villagers didn't understand, what they feared, was the power inside you. It protected you, even then. The gods may have turned their backs, but something else was watching over you."

Her eyes met his once more, filled with both pain and pride. "You were never truly abandoned, Gershion. You were chosen."

Gershion's mind swirled with the weight of her words. "Chosen for what?"

Miss Fiona's gaze turned somber. "That, my dear... is what we must now discover."