Chapter 20

Obiageri

The birds soared across the open skies above, while Obiageri and Chinua walked beneath them. Every muscle beneath her skin ached, and every step forward was like a struggle. When they arrived at Obodo-osise, the Village of Trees, the sun was setting, and the blue skies gave way to silver clouds, as the moon peeked from below. Obiageri knew she was safe from the one who sat on the throne of bones—for now, at least. But there was a feeling deep inside her that refused to shake off, a sensation that the real danger was not yet behind her.

As she stood at the entrance of the village, she gazed upon towering walls made entirely of thick, thorny jungle vines. At the center of this imposing barrier was a colossal doorway carved from ancient wood. Its surface was etched with symbols that seemed to writhe and shift in the light.

Obiageri could sense the atmosphere change as she stood in this place. The air felt fresher here—almost pure. The wind was light and soothing against her skin as it passed, carrying with it a fresh minty scent every time she took a deep breath. She wondered, perhaps, what lay beyond that colossal door.

Seeing no instructions in place, she watched as Chinua pushed the heavy doors open, revealing a sight that left him gasping. When Obiageri turned to look, her eyes widened, and her hands flew to her mouth, trying to shield her growing smile.

“Do you see it too?” she bubbled, her lips quivering.

“I do. Do we go in?” Chinua replied, his voice melodic. A smile crossed his face, the kind that made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“I don’t see why not,” she said, taking a step forward.

Before her were fields of lush green grass, dotted with walking trees whose rainbow-like leaves swayed gently. Their branches were adorned with large, dome-shaped nests made from dried twigs, hanging like earrings. The sweet scent of ripe fruits mingled with the earthy aroma of fallen leaves beneath them, filtering through Obiageri’s nostrils.

The soft grass seemed to embrace her feet with every step. As she looked up, colorful feathers danced through the air, shimmering like jewels against the fading light. Each bird was a living brushstroke against the canvas of the evening sky.

Obiageri had never seen so much beauty in one place before. She didn’t know where to look first. With every glimpse, at each corner, there was something new to admire.

A majestic tree stood at the center of the clearing where she now stood. This tree walked the earth on powerful roots, resembling sturdy legs. Its thick branches stretched out like weathered arms, and its bark was etched with a face that seemed to mark the passage of time. Robins flitted through its canopy, perching on nests shaped like crowns. Obiageri thought this tree must be the chief of the village—Eze Iroko, the King of the Trees.

She bent her head in respect and remained silent, waiting for the tree to speak. A hush fell over the clearing as the tree approached, its deep rumble filling the air.

“Ndewo, mmadu,” the tree boomed, its voice carrying the melody of rushing wind and the gentle chime of birdsong. “Welcome, Obiageri and Chinua. I give thanks to Njoku-Ji, the arushi of our village, for guiding you safely here. We have awaited your arrival.”

Obiageri could barely make sense of the tree. Perhaps it was the tree’s lack of a clear face, just slits carved into its bark. Was this what being an adventurer was about—meeting new creatures in strange and beautiful places? For once on this journey, she found herself truly enjoying where she was, surrounded by nature, breathing in the fresh air, and marveling at the beauty of the world around her.

Eze Iroko led them through the village, a place alive with magic. Trees whispered to one another in silent conversation. Streams of Odika-mmuo, playful fairies, danced through the air, leaving trails of shimmering dust that tasted like sugar (Obiageri had stuck out her tongue to find out). Colossal butterflies, with wings mirroring the hues of the sun, fluttered past. She bent down when one came too close and felt the silky scales on its wings, leaving a soft powder on her hands.

Chinua could barely contain his excitement, vibrating beside her. His hands painted invisible pictures in the air, and his eyes lit up with every new creature he spotted.

“How is this even real?” Chinua exclaimed, running his hands through the soft, squishy grass. “Who could’ve created something this beautiful?” 

“First time?” Eze Iroko chuckled, a soft rumbling in his chest. There was a warm, comforting energy around him. Obiageri couldn’t help but feel drawn to the vibrant leaves that adorned him, could she touch him? No, she held back, not wanting to be disrespectful. 

Instead, she watched Chinua, his words lost as he marveled at the surroundings. His gaze darted from one marvel to the next, and she could tell he was holding back a dozen more questions, probably worried she’d tease him for being too curious. “How does a place like this even exist? It’s… magical. Is the whole pantheon this incredible?” he asked, nearly skipping in his excitement.

“No, not everywhere. Just here,” Eze Iroko chimed, let out a hearty laugh as they walked past flowers that seemed to giggle. “This place is unique. A long time ago, during a great famine, the first father, Nri, called upon Chukwu for aid. Chukwu answered, but at a cost—he asked for Nri’s first son and daughter. When they were sacrificed, yam, cocoyam, and maize grew from their graves after twelve days. Ever since, this land has flourished, unending.” 

Chinua wasn’t entirely reassured by the answer. “Why would Chukwu need children to grow crops instead of just, you know, seeds…” he began.

Before he could say more, Obiageri gently shushed him. “Focus, Chinua. We have a task to finish.” she murmured into his ear, leaving no room for argument. 

It wasn’t fair to their host to ask too many questions; it showed bad manners. Obiageri had never been a stickler for rules, so it was odd that she was so concerned about them now. Was she becoming like her mother? She spat on the ground at the thought of that. Maybe she was just better trained than the boy walking alongside her.

The group halted at a quiet spot, where the grasses seemed to end. Only a lonely, dried wooden log stood in the center, surrounded by a circle of brown earth.

“Would you sit here while I fetch Onye Ohoo?” Eze Iroko grumbled, his leaves shivering. “He’s been grumpy lately. More so than usual, I suspect.”

Obiageri’s mind swirled with questions. Who was Onye Ohoo? Why had they been directed here? She could bet something was at play here. She wondered what the gods had planned even before her arrival. It was better to have faith than to question them.