The village did not sleep.
Not after the ground split open.
Not after the voices changed.
Not after Nneka spoke… and it wasn't just her.
Doors were locked.
Windows sealed.
Fires burned through the night.
But fear still found its way inside.
Because something had crossed over.
And it wasn't leaving.
At first—
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
No screams.
No movement.
Just tension.
The kind that waits.
The kind that knows something is about to happen.
Then—
Someone went missing.
Her name was Ada.
A young girl.
No older than ten.
She had been playing outside her home.
Just for a moment.
She was only a few steps away from the door.
And then—
She was gone.
No sound.
No scream.
Nothing.
Her mother noticed first.
"Ada?" she called, stepping outside."Ada, come inside—it's not safe!"
No answer.
She frowned.
"Ada?"
Still nothing.
A chill ran through her.
She stepped further out.
And that's when she saw it.
Footprints.
Small.
The footprints were leading away from the house.
Into the dark.
"Ada…" her voice trembled now.
She followed them.
Step by step.
Heart racing.
Until—
They stopped.
The halt occurred precisely in the center of the path.
Just… stopped.
No struggle.
No sign of movement.
Just gone.
Her scream shattered the silence.
The village gathered quickly.
Too quickly.
Because deep down—
They had been waiting for this.
"What happened?"
"Where is she?"
"Did anyone see anything?!"
Her mother pointed at the ground, shaking.
"She was right here… she didn't go far… she didn't—"
Her voice broke.
"She wouldn't leave me…"
The elder stepped forward.
His face was pale.
"This is only the beginning," he said quietly.
The words hit hard.
Too hard.
Nneka stood at the edge of the crowd.
Alone.
No one came near her.
No one looked at her the same.
She didn't need them to say it.
She could feel it.
The blame.
The fear.
The certainty.
"She brought this," someone whispered.
"She opened the door."
"This is her doing."
Nneka's chest tightened.
"I didn't mean to…" she whispered.
But no one listened.
Because at that moment—
She felt it.
A pull.
Deep inside her.
She felt as though there was a call from within.
Not from outside.
From within.
Her head snapped up.
Her eyes widened.
"She's not gone…" Nneka said suddenly.
The crowd fell silent.
"What?" the elder asked.
Nneka's voice shook.
"She's still here."
Her mother stepped forward.
"What do you mean?"
Nneka closed her eyes.
The voices surged.
But this time—
She listened.
Through the noise.
Through the chaos.
Until—
She found it.
A faint voice.
Small.
Terrified.
"Mama…?"
Nneka gasped.
"I hear her!"
The villagers froze.
"Where is she?!" Ada's mother cried desperately.
Nneka turned slowly.
Toward the forest.
Toward the forbidden ground.
"She's there…"
A ripple of fear spread through the crowd.
"No…" someone whispered.
"Not that place…"
Without thinking—
Nneka started walking.
"No!" the elder shouted. "Don't go back there!"
But she didn't stop.
Because the voice—
It was getting weaker.
Fading.
"Mama… it's cold…"
Nneka's heart broke.
"Hold on…" she whispered."I'm coming."
She reached the edge of the forbidden ground.
The air there was worse now.
Heavier.
Darker.
Alive.
The cracks in the earth were still open.
Wider.
Deeper.
And from them—
Whispers rose.
Not desperate anymore.
Hungry.
Nneka stepped closer.
"I hear you," she said softly.
The voices shifted.
Turning toward her.
Focusing.
"Give her back," Nneka said.
Silence.
Then—
A soft laugh.
Not kind.
"Why?"
Nneka's chest tightened.
"She's just a child!"
The voice responded—
"So were we."
The ground beneath her feet trembled.
Nneka shook her head.
"This isn't right!"
The shadows rose.
"Nothing about this is right."
Then—
She saw it.
Near one of the cracks.
A small hand.
Reaching up.
"Ada!" Nneka ran forward.
She dropped to her knees and grabbed it.
The hand was cold.
Too cold.
"I've got you!" she cried.
She pulled.
Slowly.
Carefully.
And Ada began to rise.
Her face was pale.
Her eyes were wide with fear.
"Nneka…" she whispered.
"I'm here," Nneka said quickly. "You're safe now—"
But then—
Ada's expression changed.
Her eyes darkened.
And her grip tightened.
Too tight.
Painfully tight.
Nneka froze.
"Ada…?"
The girl tilted her head slowly.
And when she spoke—
It wasn't her voice.
"You came."
Nneka's breath stopped.
"No…"
The ground cracked wider.
More hands reached up.
Grabbing.
Pulling.
And suddenly—
Ada pulled back.
Ada dragged Nneka toward the crack.
"NNEKA!" her mother screamed from behind.
Nneka struggled.
"No—let go!"
But the grip was too strong.
Too many hands.
Too many voices.
"Come with us…"
Her body slid forward.
Closer.
Closer to the darkness.
Just as she began to fall
Something grabbed her from behind.
Strong.
Pulling her back.
And a voice shouted
"LET HER GO!"