The night was heavy, pressing down on the village like a weight. The fires had burned low, their embers glowing faintly in the dark. Children slept curled against their mothers, and the men who kept watch by the outer paths leaned on their spears, their eyes half-closed. Yet beneath the quiet rhythm of sleep, something stirred, moving unseen between the huts, slipping through doors and into the minds of those who had sworn the oath.
It began as a whisper.
At first, Sola thought it was only the sound of the wind pressing against the roof of his hut. But the whisper grew clearer, curling around his ears like smoke. His body lay still on the mat, yet his spirit was pulled forward, dragged into darkness deeper than night.
The ground beneath him was cold when his feet touched it, a stone surface that stretched in every direction. He blinked, trying to find his bearings, and saw that he was not alone.
Adunni stood only a few paces away, her hands clenched tightly, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow. A moment later, Femi stumbled into view, gasping as though he had fallen from a height. Then more appeared—every one of the oath-bearers, drawn into the same place, the same dream.
They looked at one another with confusion and fear. Some tried to speak, but their voices seemed swallowed by the air, muffled before they could rise.
The ground rumbled suddenly, vibrating beneath their bare feet. A pale glow formed in the center of the circle, growing brighter until it shaped itself into a figure. It was tall and cloaked in shifting shadows, its face hidden behind a mask that flickered like smoke. Its presence pressed against them like a storm, filling their chests with dread.
When it spoke, its voice was layered, as though a hundred voices spoke at once.
"Children of the oath. You called, and we have come. Your blood touched the stone, and your words bound the earth. But an oath is not chains—it is a fire. It must be tested, or it dies."
The mask turned, gazing at each of them in turn. None dared to meet its stare.
"Your first trial begins now," the spirit said. "You will face yourselves. What you fear most will rise before you. To fight it is to endure. To fall is to perish—not only in this place, but in the world beyond."
A boy named Kunle broke the silence with a trembling shout. "This is only a dream! None of this is real!"
The spirit leaned closer to him, its mask splitting to reveal nothing but darkness.
"Dreams are doors. And some doors, once opened, cannot be closed."
The ground cracked open beneath them, and fire burst forth, circling the oath-bearers in a wall of roaring flame. Yet the heat never touched them—it was not fire meant to burn flesh, but to burn fear.
From within the fire, shadows crawled. Their shapes twisted as they emerged: beasts with long claws, bodies hunched and broken, eyes glowing pale as the moon. Each one was different, each one shaped by the heart it was meant to hunt.
Adunni gasped as a serpent slid from the flames, its black scales shining, its fangs dripping with venom. It reared its head, fixing her with a cruel, unblinking gaze.
Sola turned, his stomach twisting. A beast stalked toward him on all fours, but when the firelight caught its face, his blood ran cold—it was a warped version of his late father, the man who had died in shame. Its gray skin sagged, its mouth stretched too wide, filled with jagged teeth. The sight tore something inside him open.
Another boy screamed as a shadow with wings swooped low, its claws scraping sparks from the stone. Femi swung wildly at his own beast, a towering figure with a faceless head, its chest echoing with hollow laughter.
The air filled with cries and the roar of the flames.
The spirit raised its hand.
"Face yourselves. Or fall."
The beasts attacked.
Sola barely leapt aside in time as the gray figure lunged. Its claws raked the ground, leaving lines that glowed faintly red. The sound made his bones ache. He stumbled back, his chest heaving, his mind screaming that none of this was real—yet the stench of the creature's breath was hot and foul, too real to ignore.
Adunni screamed as the serpent struck. She rolled away, its fangs snapping against the stone where her head had been a moment earlier. She scrambled to her feet, her body trembling, her eyes darting wildly.
Femi roared and struck with his fists, but the faceless giant only absorbed the blows, laughing louder each time.
Panic spread quickly. Some of the oath-bearers ran blindly around the circle, only to find the wall of fire rising higher, trapping them inside. Others fell to their knees, shielding their faces as the beasts closed in.
Sola gripped his head. Fear flooded him, choking him. The beast—his father's shadow—advanced, its eyes burning into him, its voice rasping with words he thought he had forgotten.
"You are nothing. You will fail, just as I failed. You are cursed, Sola. Cursed by blood."
His knees shook. For a moment, he almost believed it.
But then he heard Adunni's cry.
He turned sharply. She was cornered, the serpent coiled around her, its fangs inches from her face. Her arms shook as she tried to push it back, but she was losing.
The memory of Elder Ojo's voice struck through Sola's fear like lightning.
"Loyalty will open doors no man has dared to touch."
This oath was not about him alone. If he let her fall, he would fall too.
He tore his eyes from the shadow of his father and seized a jagged shard of stone from the ground. His legs carried him before his mind could think.
"Adunni! Move!" he shouted.
She ducked low just as the serpent struck again. Sola hurled the stone with all his strength. It struck the serpent's glowing eye, piercing deep. The beast shrieked, its body writhing violently before it collapsed into ash, fading into the flames from which it had come.
The circle shook as though the serpent's death had cracked the dream itself. The wall of fire dimmed for a moment before rising again.
Adunni gasped, staring at him. Her face was pale, but her eyes burned with something new—not fear, but fire.
"We can fight them," she said. Her voice was hoarse, but steady.
Sola nodded, his chest still heaving. He turned to Femi, who was pinned against the ground by the faceless giant. Without hesitation, Sola charged, slamming into the creature's side. It staggered, giving Femi enough room to roll free. Together, they struck again and again until the shadow cracked apart, bursting into smoke and ash.
The others watched, wide-eyed, as the impossible happened. One by one, they began to rise, to strike back against their fears. Kunle, the boy who had shouted in denial, swung a broken branch at the winged creature that had tormented him. Another girl hurled stones until her beast faltered.
The air filled with the sounds of battle—screams of terror, shouts of defiance, the shrieks of shadows burning to ash.
And through it all, the faceless spirit watched in silence, its mask flickering like a dying flame.
The battle felt endless, but at last, the circle was littered only with ash. The beasts were gone. The oath-bearers stood together, wounded and exhausted, their chests heaving, but alive.
Sola's arms trembled. He could hardly breathe. Yet when he looked around and saw Adunni, Femi, and the others still standing, a strange warmth filled him. For the first time, he believed that they might endure.
The spirit finally spoke. Its voice thundered across the circle, echoing inside their skulls.
"You have endured. But this was only the beginning. The deeper trials await. The oath binds you, and the oath will break you—unless you learn what it demands."
The flames roared higher, swallowing everything in blinding light.
Sola woke with a gasp.
He lay on the floor of his hut, sweat dripping down his body, his heart racing as if he had truly fought for his life. His hands were scraped and raw, though he had no weapon to hold. The ache in his chest was real.
He staggered outside, the early sun spilling over the village. The air was cool, fresh, but his breath still came in ragged bursts.
Across the village, he saw others emerging from their huts. Adunni stood at her doorway, her face pale but her eyes sharp. Femi stumbled past, clutching his arm, his gaze distant.
They looked at o
ne another and knew.
It had not been just a dream.
The first trial had come. And it was only the beginning.