"LET HER GO!"
The grip around Nneka's waist tightened—
Strong.
Desperate.
She was yanked backward—
Just as Ada's hand slipped from hers.
The small figure vanished instantly—
The small figure was dragged back into the crack.
The earth snapped shut.
Silence.
Nneka hit the ground hard, gasping for air.
"Are you okay?!" her mother cried, pulling her close.
Nneka nodded weakly.
But her eyes stayed fixed on the ground.
"She's gone…" she whispered.
The wind rose slowly.
And from beneath the earth—
A voice echoed.
"She is ours now."
The villagers didn't argue this time.
They didn't question.
Because they had seen it.
They had felt it.
And now—
They believed.
That night—
The village locked itself in fear.
But fear was no longer enough.
Because the spirits were no longer hiding.
They were moving.
Inside homes—
Shadows stretched longer than they should.
Voices echoed from empty corners.
Doors creaked open—
Even when no one touched them.
A man sat with his family, trying to stay calm.
"It will pass," he said, forcing confidence into his voice."It's just fear—nothing more."
But his son pointed.
"Papa…"
The man turned.
And froze.
Because his shadow—
Was not sitting with him.
It stood behind him.
Watching.
Across the village—
A woman lit a lantern.
Her hands were trembling.
"Stay close," she whispered to her children.
But when she turned—
One of them was gone.
No sound.
No movement.
Just gone.
Screams filled the night.
From every direction.
From every home.
Back near the center of the village—
The elder stood with the remaining villagers.
"We cannot stay here," he said urgently."They are everywhere now."
"Where do we go?" someone cried.
The elder hesitated.
Then—
"There is one place left."
All eyes turned to him.
"The shrine," he said.
A ripple of fear spread through the group.
"No…" someone whispered."That place is forbidden…"
"Yes," the elder said.
His voice is firm now.
"But it is also protected."
Nneka stood quietly beside her mother.
The voices inside her were louder again.
Stronger.
And this time—
She could feel something else.
Something new.
Something was watching through her.
"They're not just taking people," she said suddenly.
The elder turned.
"What do you mean?"
Nneka's voice trembled.
"They're choosing."
Silence fell.
"Choosing?" her mother asked.
Nneka nodded slowly.
"The weak… the afraid… the ones who don't understand."
Her eyes darkened slightly.
"They're feeding."
A cold silence followed.
Because deep down—
Everyone knew what that meant.
"We leave now," the elder said quickly."Before it gets worse."
The group moved.
Quickly.
Quietly.
But the night followed them.
As they walked—
The forest felt different.
Alive.
Watching.
Waiting.
Then—
A child stopped.
"I hear something…" she whispered.
"Keep moving!" her mother said urgently.
But the child didn't.
Because the voice was clearer now.
Right beside her.
"Come…"
The child stepped off the path.
"No!" Nneka shouted.
She ran forward—
She grabbed the girl just in time.
"Don't listen to them!"
The child blinked.
"What… what happened?"
Nneka's grip tightened.
"They're trying to pull you in."
The group reached the shrine.
Old.
Sacred.
Its walls were marked with symbols older than memory.
The air around it felt… different.
Still.
Safe.
For now.
As they stepped inside—
The voices inside Nneka suddenly screamed.
Louder than ever before.
She dropped to her knees.
"STOP—!"
Her body shook violently.
The others stared in fear.
"What's happening to her?!" someone cried.
Nneka gasped—
"They can't come in here…"
The elder nodded.
"That is why we are safe."
Nneka looked up slowly.
"No…"
Her voice dropped.
"They're angry."
The ground beneath the shrine trembled slightly.
Outside—
The shadows gathered.
Watching.
Waiting.
Growing.
And among them—
Obasi stood.
Still.
Silent.
Smiling.
Inside the shrine—
Nneka froze suddenly.
Her eyes widened.
Because through all the voices—
Through all the noise—
She heard one voice.
Clear.
Familiar.
"Help me…"
Her breath caught.
"Mama…" she whispered.
But her mother was standing right beside her.
So whose voice was that?