The black Gods

Part 3:Kyrie returns

Mia was beside herself with worry as she paced back and forth, glancing at the entrance of the cave with anxious eyes. The guide, his face etched with concern, finally spoke up. "We should call off the search for him. There's no way Kyrie could have survived in these caves for this long."

"No! We can't give up!" Mia insisted, her voice trembling with emotion. "He wouldn't just leave us. He's out there somewhere." But deep down, she feared the worst.

Just as despair began to creep in, a figure emerged from the shadows of the cave. It was Kyrie. Mia's heart leaped with joy and relief, but confusion quickly followed as she noticed the distant look in his eyes. He seemed changed, almost ethereal, and she rushed to him, enveloping him in a fierce embrace.

"Kyrie! I was so worried! Where have you been?" she exclaimed, pulling back to look at him. But Kyrie remained silent, his gaze distant as if he were still processing what he had experienced.

Eventually, he spoke, his voice steady yet filled with urgency. "Mia, I need to tell you about what I saw. There's a realm out there where black people can truly thrive, where our history is honored and our power is recognized."

As he began to share his incredible journey, a local reporter who had been following the story arrived, eager to capture Kyrie's experience. Among them was a white reporter, her expression skeptical as she prepared her questions.

"Kyrie, can you describe what you encountered in this realm?" she asked, her tone a mixture of curiosity and doubt.

Kyrie looked her in the eye, sensing her disbelief. "I saw gods—powerful beings who embody our culture, our strength. They exist in a realm where we can reclaim our identity and power."

The reporter raised an eyebrow, her skepticism evident. "It's not that I don't believe you, Kyrie, but maybe you hit your head and were having hallucinations. This sounds too far-fetched."

"Hallucinations?" Kyrie repeated, feeling a surge of frustration. "What I experienced was real. I know what I saw. There's another realm out there!"

"I'm sorry, but this story just doesn't make sense," she replied, her tone firm. "I hate to say it like this, but it sounds like a fantasy."

Kyrie's heart sank at her words. He could see the doubt in her eyes and the disbelief reflected in the faces of the other reporters gathering around him. It felt as if his hard work and the truth of his experience were being dismissed. The white world would continue to deny the existence of black gods, and the rich history that came with them.

Mia, sensing his pain, stepped forward. "You don't understand. Kyrie has seen something extraordinary. This is about more than just a story; it's about our identity and our history."

But the reporter remained unconvinced. "I appreciate your passion, but without evidence, it's hard to take this seriously. People won't believe in something they can't see or touch."

Kyrie felt a wave of despair wash over him. The realization hit hard—no matter how profound his experience had been, there would always be those who refused to believe. The world he returned to seemed intent on silencing the truths of his heritage, dismissing the power of black history and identity.

"I understand your skepticism," Kyrie said, his voice steady despite the disappointment. "But I'm not here to convince you. I'm here to share what I experienced. It's up to others to recognize the power in our stories."

With that, he took a deep breath, determined to continue his mission. He wouldn't let the disbelief of a few diminish the truth of what he had witnessed. He would find a way to share the knowledge and power he had gained, to uplift others and inspire them to seek their own truths.

As he looked at Mia, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. Together, they would spread the word about the realm where black gods existed, where their culture was celebrated, and where their strength could be harnessed. Despite the challenges ahead, Kyrie knew he could not give up—there were too many people who needed to hear his story.