Lamthe stood in silence, peering deep into Juwon's soul.
The process was delicate... like slipping a key into a lock that didn't want to turn. The moment his spirit crossed the threshold, he felt it: darkness. Still and heavy, like stagnant water sealed from sunlight for years. It wasn't emptiness... it was suppression. A kind of quiet pain buried so deep, that it didn't feel like pain anymore.
Lamthe steadied his breath and pressed forward. Slowly, shapes began to emerge. Shadows shifting into forms. A picture taking shape from within the void.
He found himself standing before the orphanage in Makoko.
The air was humid and thick with the scent of river wood and old clothes. The building was a patchwork of rotting planks, nailed together by decades of desperate hands. Corridors lined with thin mats and flickering kerosene lamps stretched in every direction, but the place was oddly silent.
Only a few children moved about, sweeping floors or mending torn shirts with clumsy fingers. None acknowledged Lamthe. They didn't see him... he was merely a ghost drifting through Juwon's memory.
Lamthe searched, scanning every face. Juwon was nowhere to be seen.
He drifted past a narrow corridor, his gaze catching on a dim and blurry room. The doorway was slightly open, but the inside was hazy, as though Juwon himself had never dared to look inside.
"Strange…" Lamthe murmured.
As he turned away, an old woman stepped into view. Her spine was arched like a question mark, and her gray eyes flickered with a tired but watchful light.
She moved with eerie calm, dragging a battered kettle across the hall. Lamthe froze. He recognized her.
"Madam Ekundayo," he whispered.
Ekundayo...meaning "tears turn to joy"...but there was nothing joyful about her presence.
She had died five years ago, yet here she was, alive in memory, her face sunken and sharp.
Still, Juwon was nowhere to be found.
Lamthe closed his eyes and stilled his thoughts. He listened... not with his ears, but with the senses trained only by spirit users. He listened for Juwon's essence. A faint pulse, a whisper of self. The world around him trembled, and slowly, the orphanage dissolved into blackness.
When he opened his eyes again, Lamthe found himself in a secluded area of the orphanage, the place was free from the eyes of residents, a place where Madam Ekundayo took advantage of.
Just then, lamthe saw them.
In the dead of night, children... no older than ten... descended a wooden ladder into the grey-black waters of Makoko.
Each child clutched a rusty bucket. One by one, they submerged, disappearing beneath the surface to scoop sand from the bottom. When full, they climbed back up, wheezing, water dripping from their chins, to empty the wet sand into a canoe. The cycle repeated... down, up, down again.
The extracted sand will be collected and sold to contractors for construction.
Lamthe's expression tightened.
"Is this… what she made them do?" he muttered.
Using the children as slave labor under the guise of care. It was unforgivable.
Suddenly, a splash.
One child was struggling... his arms flailed as he neared the top of the ladder. He couldn't hold his breath any longer. The bucket slipped from his grip and struck the ladder with a dull clang. Panic spread. The child's head bobbed once, then sank beneath the surface.
Lamthe's eyes widened, he wanted to help the child but he knew this was just a memory, he couldn't interfere even if he tried.
Children screamed for help, and someone dove in. A minute later, they pulled the boy out, laying him on the wooden platform. Water spilled from his mouth as he coughed weakly. Lamthe moved closer, kneeling beside him.
It was Juwon.
His eyes were open, but he wasn't truly there... barely breathing. Lamthe's chest tightened. This boy, everyone in this orphanage… they endured too much. Where was I when this happened, Lamthe thought to himself.
But Lamthe didn't have the luxury of sympathy. He needed Juwon to be conscious...to reach him.
Then she came.
Madam Ekundayo stepped out from the shadows, her expression cold and annoyed.
"Him again," she muttered.
"This boy is just useless."
Lamthe clenched his jaw.
She barked orders at the other children.
"Blindfold him. Bring him to my room."
Lamthe followed closely as they led Juwon... weak and soaked... to the dim, blurry room from before. The children opened the door. Lamthe tried to follow, but the interior was a pitch-black void, impenetrable.
He stopped.
"I can't enter…" he realized.
"Because Juwon never saw or have memories of what happened inside."
Is that why she blindfolded him. To keep this space hidden. To make sure no one, not even a spirit user...could see.
He waited. And time passed.
Then, the memory shifted again.
Juwon was lying in a small bed, eyes half-closed. Mama Ekundayo leaned over him, adjusting his pillow. She placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.
"Sleep well," she whispered.
"Tomorrow you'll work harder again."
She turned and walked out of the room, never once noticing Lamthe, who now stood beside Juwon.
Lamthe looked down at him, the boy's breathing shallow, his fists curled tightly beneath the blanket. Lamthe saw tears silently rolling down his cheeks.
"Poor thing," Lamthe murmured, placing a hand gently on Juwon's forehead rubbing it gently.
"Wake up now, Juwon…" he whispered.
"Wake up, so I can take it all away."
Juwon remained still as the voice kept on echoing like a whisper across water.
"Wake up…"
"Wake up…"
"Wake up…"
Each repetition faded quieter. And still, Juwon lay still... caught between a nightmare and the voice of light.
To be continued...