By the sixth day, Ebirien was no longer holding together.
It was falling apart.
Not just the buildings.
Not just the streets.
But the people.
No one pretended anymore.
Fear had stripped that away.
Now, what remained was raw.
Unfiltered.
Dangerous.
People shouted openly now.
Argued loudly.
Blamed each other without restraint.
Because they had realized something:
Hiding their anger made it worse.
But expressing it?
That wasn't safe either.
There was no balance.
No escape.
The town square, once a place of gathering, had become a place of conflict.
Groups formed.
Voices clashed.
Old grudges resurfaced.
Things that had been buried for years began to rise.
"You cheated me years ago!"
"You ruined my family!"
"You lied!"
"You betrayed me!"
Every word carried weight.
Every emotion had force behind it.
And the moment those emotions reached their peak—
The world responded.
A loud crack split the ground slightly between two arguing men.
They jumped back in fear.
A woman screamed as the basket in her hand suddenly tore apart, spilling everything.
A child cried as the wall beside him shook violently.
Nothing was stable anymore.
Because now, anger didn't need silence.
It just needed intensity.
At the center of it all…
was Tare.
But he was no longer in his house.
He had left.
Not to run.
But because he understood something now.
This wouldn't stop on its own.
He walked slowly toward the forest.
Each step heavy.
Each breath strained.
The voices inside him were louder than ever.
Not whispers anymore.
Shouts.
Cries.
Demands.
Make them listen!
Make them stop!
Make them feel it!
Tare held his head tightly.
"I can't choose for them!" he shouted.
You already are.
"No!" he cried. "I don't control this!"
You guide it.
That word hit differently.
Guide.
Tare stopped walking.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
For the first time…
the voices didn't rush to answer.
Instead, something else happened.
The noise inside him… shifted.
Organized.
Like chaos learning structure.
You feel them.
"Yes…" Tare said weakly.
You hear them.
"Yes…"
Then you shape the response.
Tare's eyes widened.
"No… that's not true."
But deep down…
he wasn't sure anymore.
Images flashed through his mind.
The window breaking.
Kola's ceiling collapsing.
The goalpost bending.
Each time…
he had felt something.
Anger.
Pain.
Pressure.
And each time…
something answered.
Tare stepped back slowly.
"…I didn't just release it," he whispered.
The voices responded together.
You directed it.
His heart pounded violently.
"That means… this isn't random."
It never was.
Tare felt sick.
All this time…
he thought he was a victim.
But now—
He was part of the cause.
"No…" he whispered.
But the truth was already clear.
Back in town, the situation worsened.
Two brothers stood facing each other in front of their family house.
"You always thought you were better than me!" one shouted.
"Because I am!" the other snapped.
Years of resentment poured out.
Neither held back.
Neither stopped.
And then—
The ground beneath them cracked wider.
A loud rumble shook the area.
The walls of their house trembled violently.
Their mother screamed.
"STOP!" she cried.
But it was too late.
The anger had peaked.
And the response came.
Part of the roof collapsed.
Both brothers ran in opposite directions.
Not toward each other.
But away.
That was the real damage.
Not the broken buildings.
But the broken connections.
At the shrine, Tare stood once again.
But this time…
he did not shout.
He did not beg.
He stood still.
Listening.
Understanding.
"You said I guide it," he spoke quietly.
The air shifted.
The presence answered.
Yes.
Tare swallowed.
"Then I can stop it."
Silence.
Not agreement.
Not denial.
Just silence.
Tare clenched his fists.
"I can choose not to respond."
The wind moved slightly.
And what of the others?
Tare froze.
Because that was the problem.
"I can't control them," he admitted.
Exactly.
Tare's shoulders dropped.
"So this never ends…"
The answer came like a slow echo.
Not until something changes.
Tare looked up.
"What kind of change?"
The voices grew quieter.
Not gone.
But… focused.
Release.
Tare frowned.
"They're already releasing it," he said. "They're shouting, fighting—"
That is not release.
Tare paused.
Confused.
"Then what is?"
The answer came softly.
Almost… human.
Truth.
Silence.
Tare's breathing slowed.
"Truth…" he repeated.
Not shouting.
Not blaming.
Not attacking.
But speaking honestly.
Without hiding.
Without hurting.
Without fear.
Tare's eyes widened.
"That's impossible," he said.
The voice did not argue.
Because deep down…
they both knew it was true.
Back in Ebirien, the chaos reached its peak.
People ran.
Shouted.
Cried.
Blamed.
The town had become a storm.
And no one knew how to stop it.
Tare turned away from the shrine.
His face pale.
His eyes heavy.
But something had changed.
Not outside.
But inside him.
"I can't stop them," he said slowly.
"But maybe…"
He took a deep breath.
"I can start it."
For the first time since everything began…
the voices fell quiet.
Not forced.
But… waiting.
Because something new had entered the story.
Not anger.
Not fear.
But a fragile, dangerous idea:
Choice.
Tare began walking back toward the town.
Not as a victim.
Not as a weapon.
But as something else.
Something uncertain.
Something risky.
Because if anger had a voice…
Then maybe
Truth could have one too.
And somewhere deep within the storm of Ebirien…
Something shifted.
Not loudly.
But enough.
The breaking point had been reached.
Now…
something had to either end
Or change.