Chapter 16

When Obiageri woke, a shrill scream escaped her lips—a high, desperate sound that echoed through the hut—before her hands flew to her face, searching for the marks the dream had left. Her skin was smooth, untouched, but her fingers trembled, as though the flames were still there, just beneath the surface. A cold sweat clung to her, her breath ragged. She closed her eyes, trying to center herself. Her heart dropped, and she fought to shake off the sensation of searing pain, the memory of the celestial being’s touch lingering like a scar. Slowly, the panic receded, and she let out a long, shaky breath, trying to hold on to the calm that was now so fleeting.

Obiageri had never had a dream like that before, not even in the village where she had witnessed the most horrific and unexplainable things. There was the time when she saw a masquerade dance while enflamed in fire, and the other time when a python was pushed out of a man’s belly. She had seen all those things, but they never bothered her that much. She barely had dreams about them because she knew there were strange things in the world that no one had an explanation for.

But this dream… it had been so real. The memories still plagued her mind. The flames eating her skin, the heat boiling her insides, both vivid and haunting. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine the image of the goddess, her softness, the way she spoke. Standing before her, the goddess had been ethereal, like an experience outside her body, staring in. Was the goddess in the dream trying to pass a message? If so, she had an odd way of showing it. And Obiageri didn’t know anything about the place the goddess had mentioned. Was it a riddle, perhaps?

She sighed loudly. “Focus, Obiageri, bikonu,” she muttered to herself, patting her cheeks lightly.

Sunlight streamed through the windows, its warmth almost enough to kindle a small fire. She yawned wildly, quickly covering her mouth. If her mother had been there, she would have scolded her for such boorishness. She would have lauded her with her incessant nagging while reminding her that the men only wanted a lady with good bed manners. A quiet giggle slipped out, half-buried in grief. She missed her mother’s embrace, her touch, her cooking, and her stories. So much had changed since she left the village. She traced the beads on her neck—the same ones her mother had given her when she made her first hunt.

A thought of their last encounter flickered through her mind. She had left while the monsters—No! She wasn’t going to think about that. It hurt too much, like an incessant dagger driving through her heart, again and again, without stopping. Obiageri would rather focus on how to save her.

But what if she failed? Would her mother remain gone, starved of her daughter’s touch? Obiageri didn’t want to think about that now. She had to believe in herself, just like her mother would have.

She had to get Chinua to the spirit kingdom to claim the Crowns of Flesh, the wish-granting totem—the only way to bring her mother back. What a difficult task that had turned out to be. They had only spent a day in the animal kingdom, and she had barely been able to keep him alive. It was like he was aching to die. Was that the hero who was supposed to save the whole pantheon? She shook her head; maybe it wasn’t wise to doubt the gods. They might have some reason they refused to share with her. She just needed to have faith.

The circular hut where she had slept was made of red mud and raffia. It reminded her of the room in her village.

Of course, it didn’t help that the hut was suspended on a large tree in a forest. Nor the fact that her neighbors were gorillas who grunted loudly enough at night that she could hear them even when they were in another room. She missed her village’s warmth; their care had always been a comfort. She had spent so much time trying to escape her menial life that she didn’t realize the opposite was a life of dangers and strangers. Now, she was all alone in this odd, frightening world. No time for regrets now.

She stood up, staring at the furs and leaves that served as her bed. Rubbing her eyes with her palms, her gaze caught sight of a chewing stick and water from a coconut shell. Had someone left that there while she was sleeping? She thought against it. This was her first morning without her mother. Was she expected to do chores at the gorilla colony? Maybe she should ask—it would be rude if she didn’t.

She picked up the coconut shell, gulping down the water inside. She didn’t realize how thirsty she was until she drank it all. Was it too early to explore this place? She stuck the chewing stick in her mouth and wrapped her wrapper around her waist.

She was about to pick up her leg beads when the wooden door rumbled with a loud, forceful knock.

Obiageri froze. Her mouth became dry, her breathing turned jagged. Her muscles tightened as a thousand thoughts flashed through her mind. Who could it be? What had caused such a commotion? Was it bad that she didn’t want to find out?

Her eyes darted around the room, scanning for something—anything—that she could use as a weapon. When she found nothing, she moved swiftly to the circular window and peered out. She couldn’t make out a face, only a shadowy figure. Could she slip away unnoticed? How would that work? Her fingers were quivering as she squeezed her hands into fists. The knocking intensified, the door shuddering with each strike. If it came down to it, she would have to fight her way through. It wasn’t the ideal situation, but she would do whatever it took to survive.

Obiageri took a deep inhale, closing her eyes, steeling her mind for the inevitable. When the ringing in her ears stopped, she noticed all was quiet. The loud knocking had ceased. She opened her eyes, took a peek, then drew back. The shadows remained. What was happening outside? Then a voice rang out, sharp and urgent: “Open up, Obiageri, it’s Opara!”

Could she trust the voice, or was he under duress? Obiageri couldn’t decide. What mattered was that they knew she was inside. What was stopping them from breaking the door down to get to her? She pressed her back to the door and opened it slowly, the creak of the door echoing in the silence. In a flash, she spun, launching a fist at the unknown assailant.

Obiageri stiffened, flinching in her chest as the door swung open. She saw Opara the mild first—his face wide-eyed with alarm, as if he had just escaped something dangerous. Her gaze shifted to Chinua, who looked like he had barely managed to dress himself. Sweat covered his face, and his hands shook as he pulled a shirt over his head. They had scared her. She could have seriously hurt them. She exhaled, her breath uneven, before snapping, “Whatttt…is… going on?!” Her voice was sharp, but her brow furrowed as she took in Chinua’s disheveled, pale state.

Chinua's voice cracked, his words tumbling out in a rush. “We have to leave, now-now.”

“Mba! That wasn’t an explanation. The sun’s barely out!” Obiageri grumbled, scanning their faces for any signs of distress—and there were many.

“Opara saw soldiers of the one who sits on the throne of bones headed this way while scouting,” His breath was shallow, his cheeks flushed with fever.

Obiageri’s gaze sharpened on him, noting how his chest heaved as he struggled for air. A sudden knot tightened in her stomach. She had seen Chinua weak before, but never like this. She reached for him instinctively, her hands warm on his trembling shoulders, offering what little comfort she could. “Take deep breaths, ngwanu,” she urged softly, though worry gnawed at her insides.

“You both need to disappear,” Opara the mild one, panted, gesturing urgently with his hands. “If you're caught here, we’ll all be in danger! Gawa Gawa!”

Obiageri needed no further convincing. The gorilla was a mighty animal, capable of defending against predators and foes. She didn’t want to encounter whatever made him fearful.

Obiageri spat out the chewing stick, her eyes scanning the room one last time. She grabbed what few belongings she could remember—a wooden comb, some cowries, and a jar of okuma for her skin—and stuffed them into a satchel slung over her shoulder. Then, she hurriedly followed them onto the deck.