The sun rose bright, but the village carried a shadow.
On the surface, everything seemed ordinary. Children fetched water from the stream, women pounded yam in wooden mortars, and men sharpened their tools for hunting and farming. But beneath that rhythm of daily life, something had shifted. The ones who had sworn the oath carried the weight of the night in their eyes. They walked slower, their gazes lingering too long on the ground, their breaths heavier than usual.
Sola felt it too. His body ached, though no wound could be seen. His dreams had left him raw, his heart unsettled. Every time he blinked, he saw the gray figure of his father's shadow, its voice still whispering failure in his ears.
Adunni crossed his path near the river. Their eyes met, and without a word, they both knew the other had endured the same trial. Her serpent, his beast, Femi's faceless giant—they had not been illusions. They had been truths given form.
"Do you feel it?" she asked softly, kneeling by the water.
Sola nodded. "It's not gone. The fire. The fear. It's still with me."
Adunni dipped her hands into the stream, letting the cold water wash over her fingers. "Maybe that's the point. The spirits don't want us to forget. They want us to carry it."
Sola frowned. "Carry it where?"
She looked at him, her dark eyes heavy. "To the end."
By midday, Elder Ojo gathered them.
The old man stood at the edge of the forest, his staff planted firmly in the earth. The oath-bearers came one by one, drawn by something greater than his command. Sola, Adunni, Femi, Kunle, and the others—all stood together, their faces pale, their bodies tense.
Elder Ojo studied them for a long while before he spoke.
"You have crossed the first gate," he said. His voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed unease. "The spirits do not test lightly. They have seen your blood. They have seen your fear. And still, they hunger."
Kunle, restless and trembling, blurted out, "We almost died last night! If this is only the first, then how are we supposed to survive the rest?"
The elder's gaze hardened. "You swore. Death is no longer your greatest fear. Betrayal is. Weakness is. The oath is not a path you walk—it is a fire you endure."
Silence settled. No one dared to argue.
Then Ojo lifted his staff high. The carved wood gleamed faintly, as though light moved beneath its surface.
"Tonight, the second trial will come. Be ready. It will not come in dreams, but in the waking world."
The words struck them like thunder. The first trial had nearly broken them inside their sleep. What would it mean to face one with open eyes?
--
That night, the village gathered for the moon feast, a celebration of the harvest. Drums echoed, children laughed, and women sang as pots of stew bubbled over fires. But for the oath-bearers, the sounds felt distant, hollow, as if a storm was hiding behind the music.
Sola sat with Adunni and Femi near the edge of the gathering. They did not eat much. Every flicker of the fire made them flinch, every shadow seemed to move.
Then, without warning, the drums faltered. The singers' voices broke off mid-song.
A scream cut across the square.
All heads turned. One of the young hunters lay on the ground, clutching his chest, his body twisting as though unseen hands squeezed him. His eyes glowed faint white, his mouth open in a silent cry.
The villagers rushed forward, but Elder Ojo's voice cut through the chaos:
"Stay back!"
The old man's staff struck the ground, and sparks of light spread in a circle around the boy. The sparks flickered against something that none could see—an invisible net wrapping around him, pulsing with dark energy.
"The trial," Ojo whispered. His voice was heavy, his face pale. "It has begun."
The boy's body arched violently, and from his shadow rose a shape. It was not like the beasts of the dream. This one was larger, heavier, dripping with smoke as it pulled itself free from the earth. Its form twisted, shifting between wolf, man, and something far worse. Its eyes glowed like firebrands, and its roar silenced the entire village.
Children cried. Women clutched their skirts. The hunters raised their spears, but Ojo raised a trembling hand.
"No. This is not for you. It is theirs."
He turned his eyes toward the oath-bearers.
The crowd stepped back in fear, leaving Sola, Adunni, Femi, and the others standing alone before the creature.
The beast's gaze swept over them, and for a moment, Sola felt its weight in his chest, like claws tightening around his lungs. His knees threatened to buckle.
Adunni whispered, "This is worse than the dream."
Femi spat, though his hands shook. "Dream or not, we fight."
The beast roared and lunged.
Chaos erupted.
Sola rolled aside as claws slashed the ground where he had stood. Dust and stones flew. The hunters shouted in fear, but none dared to cross the glowing circle that had formed around the square.
Adunni grabbed a burning log from the firepit and swung it wide, striking the beast across its back. It howled, but instead of burning, the flames sank into its body, making it grow larger.
"It feeds on fire!" Femi shouted.
The beast turned on him next. Its claws raked across the ground, sparks flying. Femi stumbled back, his heel catching on a stone. The creature loomed, its mouth opening wide.
Sola didn't think—he acted. Grabbing a spear from a stunned hunter, he hurled it with all his strength. The wooden shaft struck the beast's shoulder, piercing deep. Smoke burst from the wound, and the monster staggered, shrieking.
The villagers gasped.
Adunni's eyes widened. "It bleeds smoke. It can be hurt!"
But the beast was not finished. It spun, its massive arm striking Sola across the chest. The blow knocked him back, his body crashing into the dirt. Pain exploded through him, and for a moment, the world went white.
"Sola!" Adunni screamed.
Femi charged, swinging another spear, but the beast caught it in its jaws and snapped it like dry wood. The fragments clattered uselessly to the ground.
Sola forced himself up, his breath ragged. His vision swam, but his hands gripped the earth as if he could draw strength from it. Elder Ojo's words echoed in his mind: "Loyalty will open doors no man has dared to touch."
He looked at Adunni and Femi. They were cornered, barely holding the beast at bay. If he faltered, they would all fall.
Summoning what strength remained, he staggered forward. His hand brushed against the broken spear shaft lying near his feet. The wood hummed faintly, as though the oath itself had awakened within it.
Sola lifted it high. The beast roared and lunged.
With a cry that tore from his soul, Sola drove the broken spear into the monster's chest. Smoke burst forth in a violent wave, engulfing them all.
The beast shrieked, its body convulsing, before it collapsed into ash that spread across the square like black snow.
Silence fell.
The villagers stared in shock. The glowing circle on the ground flickered once, then vanished.
Sola fell to his knees, gasping for air. His chest ached, his arms shook, but he was alive. Beside him, Adunni and Femi stood frozen, their faces pale with both fear and awe.
Elder Ojo's voice broke the silence.
"The second trial is complete."
He raised his staff, his voice carrying across the square.
"But this is only the beginning. The spirits are not finished. What you faced tonight is a shadow of what lies ahead. The oath has awakened powers that will not sleep again."
The villagers murmured in fear, clutching their children, their eyes darting to the oath-bearers with both awe and suspicion.
Sola felt their stares like thorns against his skin. He wanted to breathe, to rest, but deep inside, he
knew Elder Ojo spoke the truth.
The oath had called the spirits. And the spirits would not stop until their price was paid.