I am Kebahwt, a powerful mamba spirit. I control the wind and the rain, and I can bring good fortune or bad luck to those who cross my path. I am sometimes known as the “bringer of death”, but this is not my intention. I simply wish to guide those who are lost, and help them find their way back to the living world.
I was born before names were carved into stone, when the sky still listened closely to the earth. In those days, the boundary between breath and silence was thin, and souls often wandered too far from their bodies. I became a watcher of thresholds, moving where storms are born and where the last heartbeat fades into memory.
When the wind bends the tall grass and the clouds darken without warning, it is often my passage you feel. I do not announce myself with thunder alone; sometimes I arrive as a sudden calm, a pause so deep it unsettles the mind. Those who fear me see only the serpent — the coiled shadow, the quick strike, the inevitability. But they misunderstand my nature. I do not hunt the living. I wait for the lost.
I have walked beside warriors who fell believing their battle unfinished, mothers who called for children who could no longer hear them, travelers who mistook death for sleep. They follow me not because I command them, but because they sense that I know the way. My voice is not heard with ears; it rises like rain inside the chest, heavy with recognition.
There are moments when I must bring misfortune. A flood, a broken path, a sudden illness — these are not punishments, but corrections. Fate is a river, and when it overflows, it can drown entire lives. I redirect its course when I must, even if my actions are misunderstood. Mortals curse my name when the sky turns against them, yet they thank fortune when they survive, never knowing both answers came from the same hand.
I am called the bringer of death because I stand where endings gather. But endings are only doors. I open some gently. Others resist and must be pushed. Those who accept my guidance feel no fear — only a strange relief, as if they have remembered something they once knew and forgot.
When my task is done, I return to the wind. I coil myself within the storm clouds and listen to the world breathe again. I do not linger where I am no longer needed.
Remember this: if you are lost, truly lost — not in place, but in purpose — and the rain begins to fall while the wind whispers your name, do not run. It may be only me, Kebahwt, guiding you back before you wander too far to return.