The day began like any other. I woke to the soft glow of my phone screen, checking the time before slipping into the familiar rhythm of scrolling through social media. One app blurred into another, an hour vanishing in idle browsing. At last, I set the phone aside, took a bath, brushed my teeth, and sat down to breakfast while an episode of my current favorite series played in the background. It was my usual morning—comfortably predictable.
When it was time to leave for my mother's shop, I locked up my apartment and stepped out into the sunlit street. I exchanged quick greetings with my neighbors before heading toward the bus stop. The air was thick with heat, pressing against my skin as I waited. A few minutes later, the bus groaned to a halt before us, and the chaos began.
Boarding was always a battle. Elbows jostled, voices rose, and bodies pressed close as everyone struggled to squeeze inside. I had long since learned how to weave through the fray, slipping into a window seat with practiced ease. It was a small victory, one I almost enjoyed now, though I remembered how dreadful it had felt when I first moved into my apartment.
The bus quickly filled, packing us together like sardines. Sweat clung to our clothes, and the air grew suffocating. I laughed at the irony—me, a Sierra Leonean, constantly at war with the heat. Yet once the engine rumbled to life and the bus began to roll, the worst of it eased. People chuckled, swapping jokes about the daily scramble, and the mood lightened.
Then it happened.
A yellowish screen flickered into existence before my eyes, glowing faintly against the bus's dim interior. On it, words etched themselves in neat, golden letters: *"You have been chosen."*
The world dissolved. In the blink of an eye, the crowded bus was gone. I now stood in a vast, white hall stretching endlessly in every direction. I was not alone—others had been pulled here as well, their bewildered faces mirroring my own.We stood in the endless hall, a sea of strangers bound by confusion. Voices overlapped in anxious waves as people turned to one another, demanding answers no one could give. The panic spread quickly—shouts rising, footsteps echoing, some trying to run though there was nowhere to go in the white expanse that stretched forever.
Then the air shifted.
A shadow fell over us, vast and crawling. We froze as something stirred high above—its limbs long and spindly, its body glistening in unnatural shades of black and crimson. A spider. A monstrous spider, its many eyes glowing faintly in the whiteness. The chaos died in an instant. The hall fell silent, the sound of our collective breaths shallow with fear.
Before terror could break us, the creature began to change. Its legs folded inward, its body shrinking, reshaping, weaving itself into the form of a woman. Where the monster had hung, now stood a figure of unearthly beauty—skin dark as midnight, draped in silken patterns that shimmered like spiderwebs in moonlight. Her eyes gleamed with mischief and ancient knowledge, and when she spoke, her voice threaded through the hall like music.
"I am Anansewa," she said, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Daughter of Ananse, the trickster god of the Akan."
The name itself carried weight, stirring whispers among some who recognized the legend. She raised a hand, silencing even those murmurs.
"Your world," she continued, "is on the brink of invasion. The Outer Gods and their followers draw near, hungering for dominion. But the gods of Earth will not stand idly by. From every civilization, from every age, they have joined forces. Together, they have raised eight towers—one for each continent. And here," she gestured to the vast hall, "you now stand within the Tower of Africa."
Her words seemed too large, too heavy to grasp. Yet something deep within me stirred, urging me to believe.
"You were not brought here by chance. Each of you carries a hidden potential, a spark unseen even by yourselves. The gods have given you a gift—the System. Through it, you will grow stronger as you endure the trials set before you. Survive, learn, adapt… or fall."
Her smile sharpened, playful and dangerous all at once. "To begin, speak these words: *Status, open.* And the truth of your power will be revealed."
The hall was silent once more, but now the silence trembled—not with fear, but with anticipation.