Chapter 8

Water spilled from his mouth as he gasped, air rushing in and causing him to cough violently. His body was freezing, and he wrapped his arms around himself for warmth. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open. It was dark now, the sky glowing an eerie orange. He felt as if he were trapped in a dream, desperate to wake up.

He was on the riverbank. Glancing toward the bridge, the monsters had vanished. Chinua strained to push himself upright, but his knees buckled at the sight of a massive ram before him.

A raging fire blazed across its wool, crackling with unholy flames. The atmosphere grew thick; each breath was laboured as heat pressed down like a smothering hand. Spiralling winds whipped around the creature, bending the grass at its hooves in submission. The earth trembled beneath it, cracks forming in the ground, sending clouds of dust swirling upwards. Its hooves tore into the soil, carving deep trenches as a mystic aura radiated off its body, warping the space around it.

Chinua stumbled backward, dazed.

To his astonishment, the ram spoke. “Be at peace, little one. The gods smile upon you today. Your story is not yet finished, but tomorrow may bring a different fate. Listen now to what Chukwu has planned for you.” The ram’s voice boomed, resonating with authority.

“Wha-w-what do you want from me?” Chinua stuttered, flinching in terror. The surreal nature of the situation was hard to comprehend. How could a ram speak like in storybooks?

“The Great Evil Spirit is haunting you,” the ram intoned solemnly, its hooves striking bronze, its horns regal. “He delights in your suffering and has sent the ajo-mmuos to end your life—and that of your beloved. I can help you take back what the false god has stolen and guide you toward your true purpose. But you must embark on a quest to find the Crown of Flesh.” 

“Why is this evil spirit after me?” Chinua’s voice cracked with desperation. “This can’t be real! Am I seriously talking to a... flaming ram?” 

The ram’s eyes blazed. “I am the one who sees both the past and the future at the same time.”

“You can’t be happening!” Chinua’s voice was heavy with grief. “Why come to me now, when my heart is already in pieces? Why torment me like this?” 

The ram lowered its head, as if empathizing with Chinua’s pain. “I wouldn’t be here if the gods hadn’t sent me. Whether you live or die means nothing to me. The gods are cruel like that,” It inched closer as it spoke.

Chinua said nothing, dusting himself off, he walked past the ram, indifferent to the musings. He needed to come to terms with his losses. Ignoring the ram, he kept walking, but he could hear the clattering of hooves behind him.

“You’re so consumed by your grief that you’re blind to the truth,” the ram’s voice called. “In seven days and seven nights, all of Uwa will face destruction. It is your destiny to confront the Great Evil Spirit. A girl will seek you in alaeze-anumanu and guide you to the spirit kingdom. If you succeed, you will find the Crown of Flesh, a crown forged from the bones of a dead god. It will grant you one wish—anything, even to bring back the dead.”

His grief had demonized his delusions. He spun around, shouting, “I don’t care! This world is filled with cruelty. If no one cared about me, why should I care about them?” But as he turned, the ram had vanished.

In its place stood a tree—its thick bark appearing as if from nowhere. Confused, Chinua approached it, intrigued by the strange inscriptions etched into the bark. He placed his palm against the tree, tracing the symbols with his fingers. Suddenly, vines from the tree came alive, wrapping around his arms and dragging him toward the trunk. He struggled, trying to break free, but the vines covered his mouth, muffling his cries. They pulled him closer, and the tree’s centre opened, revealing an abyss of darkness. Chinua watched in terror as the blackness engulfed him.