Chapter 18

Obiageri’s shoulders slumped. Talking to him was like teaching toddlers from her village how to fetch water for the first time. “What if we recreate it? I remember the symbols—I saw Nsibidi scripts. I learned about them from a… never mind,” she rasped, turning away.

“That’s a terrible idea!” Chinua argued, hands on his hips. “Isn’t that what got us into this mess?” 

“Not exactly,” Obiageri replied, biting her lip. Her voice trembled. The crows were getting closer. She grabbed a small rock and started etching Nsibidi symbols on the bark. The first looked like a fence; the second, a plant. “We don’t have a lot of options right now, do we?” 

When she finished the last symbol, Obiageri stepped back, holding her breath, hoping—wishing—that something, anything, would change or shift. But the tree stood there, silent and unmoved. 

“Nothing’s happening,” Chinua said flatly, swinging at the air with his branch.

“I can see that,” Obiageri chastised, staring at the bark as if her sheer willpower could make it glow. “Can you, like, go do something useful while I figure this out?” she asked, even though she knew she couldn’t figure it out.

Something was missing, and she didn’t know what that could be. She didn’t know any magic, so—that’s it! She didn’t know any magic, so there wasn’t an anchor to tie the Juju spell to! She needed a binding force to channel the energy of the world around her. Her mother had explained that the right arushi could amplify a spell’s power.

Which arushi should she use? The goddess of light from her dreams! She didn’t know her name or why she had haunted her visions, but if the goddess had sought her before, it meant she needed Obiageri alive. She closed her eyes, emptied her mind, and murmured prayers to the unknown goddess. “I don’t know who you are or what you are, but if you are there to protect me, now is your chance to prove it!” she muttered under her breath.

When her eyes fluttered open, to her disbelief, the symbols on the tree’s bark shimmered with golden light. The tree split apart, and the air around them crackled with energy. A profound darkness loomed within, promising danger.

When the light hit his eyes, Chinua gasped, watching the marvel unfold. He hesitated, words caught in his throat. “Are you really sure you want to step into that?” 

Obiageri nodded, holding his gaze. “Where would it take us? What if it’s worse than here… like a volcano or a storm?” he stammered, his hands trembling and his ears twitching nervously. 

What if he was right? No, she couldn’t let fear take over. “Or it could take us somewhere safer—somewhere without these psycho birds!” she retorted, masking her growing panic. The tension was thick, but she had to keep her cool. “Do you trust me?” 

Chinua let out a long sigh, his shoulders sagging as he stared at the ground. His lips pressed into a thin line. “First off, they’re crows. And second, no!” 

Obiageri rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Ugh, I don’t care what they are right now! Chinua, are you with me or not?” Her chest rose and fell as she waited for his answer.

When she got tired of waiting, Obiageri extended her hand. Her eyes locked with his, and in that instant, the world around them seemed to fade—the chaos, the noise, the heat—all of it fell away. Chinua took her hand without protest. His palm was cold and pale. They stepped forward slowly. From above, the crows swooped down, their black wings blotting out the sunlight. With her eyes closed, Obiageri walked into the darkness, Chinua by her side.