The flames from the nearby settlement flickered in the distance, and Sanni's footsteps were silent as he approached. He didn't sneak because he needed to hide — no, he walked like a man who wanted them to hear him coming.
As the firelight revealed his frame, the survivors froze. About ten of them, gaunt, exhausted, clutching sticks, pipes, and broken bottles as weapons. Their leader, a scarred man with one blind eye, raised his hand shakily.
"Stay back. We no get problem with you."
Sanni tilted his head, smiling faintly. His machete hung loosely in his grip, dripping what was left of the last woman's blood. The survivors saw it — and their morale cracked.
"Problem?" Sanni's voice was calm, mocking. "The world dey burn, gods dey wake, and you dey talk say you no get problem? Una never see problem."
One of the younger men shouted, his fear spilling into bravado. "Oga, abeg commot! If you try am, we go rush you!"
The shadows around Sanni stirred, and the boy's own shadow rose up and wrapped around his neck, yanking him into the dirt. The boy screamed, thrashing.
The others staggered back in terror.
The scarred leader's voice broke. "W-what are you?"
Sanni's grin widened. "Me? I be wetin this world need. The weak go die, the strong go reign. And me? I no dey beg gods or devils. I dey take."
The demon's voice coiled in his skull, savoring the fear. "Yes… fear is the sweetest offering. Let them tremble. Let them kneel."
Sanni stepped forward, the firelight dancing on his face. "But… una lucky. I no go kill all of una."
Confusion spread through the camp. They exchanged glances, uncertain.
"I go kill some." He raised his machete. "The rest… go follow me. You go bring me food, weapons, blood. You go spread my name. If una refuse?" His eyes gleamed red in the firelight. "Your shadow go answer me before you fit run."
The shadows writhed again, and the boy on the ground let out a final, strangled cry before going limp.
The survivors broke. Some cried. Some dropped to their knees immediately. Others tried to run — only to be dragged screaming into the darkness by their own shadows.
When the slaughter ended, four survivors remained — broken, shivering, kneeling before him.
Sanni stood over them, machete resting on his shoulder. "Good. Na so e suppose be. From today, una dey follow me. No be because una wan… but because this world no get space for weak people. I go show una wetin it means to survive."
The demon chuckled approvingly. "Yes… a cult is born. Not of worship, but of fear. Fear stronger than faith."
Sanni exhaled, eyes glowing faintly as he looked at the night sky. The stars seemed wrong — too many, shifting faintly like they were alive. For a brief moment, he felt a chill even his shadows couldn't mask.
"Tell me," he muttered to the voice, "na which kind madness dey happen for this world? Gods, demons, stars — you dey talk too much but never explain."
The voice was silent for a long moment. Then, it whispered with a weight that pressed on his chest.
"The gates were never meant to open. But they have. And when the sky itself cracks, not even shadows will hide you."
The silence that followed was heavy. Even Sanni's grin faltered for a second.
But then he turned to his new "followers" and barked a laugh. "Make una carry body! We dey move. Darkness no dey wait for cowards."
They stumbled after him, terrified, bound by a fear that ran deeper than chains.
And somewhere in the distance, drums beat again — louder this time, like a heartbeat shaking the earth itself.
The world
was watching.
And Sanni was only just getting started.