"Mama…"
Nneka's voice came out in a whisper.
Her mother turned instantly.
"I'm here," she said, pulling her closer. "I'm right here."
But Nneka's eyes were wide.
Confused.
"No… I heard you…"
A pause.
"Calling me."
Her mother's grip tightened.
"I didn't say anything."
Silence fell across the shrine.
Heavy.
Unsettling.
Because everyone had heard it too.
That voice.
Soft.
Familiar.
Wrong.
The elder stepped forward slowly.
"They are learning," he said.
Nneka looked up.
"Learning what?"
His gaze darkened.
"How to reach you."
A chill ran through her.
"They can't come inside," someone said quickly."You said we're safe here!"
The elder nodded.
"We are."
A pause.
"But she isn't."
The words fell heavily.
All eyes turned to Nneka.
Her breath caught.
"What…?"
"She is the door," the elder continued."They don't need to enter."
A longer pause.
"They can use her."
Murmurs spread through the group.
Fear.
Whispers.
"She brought this…"
"She opened it…"
"She's the reason they found us…"
Nneka shook her head.
"No… I didn't—"
But her voice broke.
Because the truth was already sinking in.
She had opened something.
And now—
They were suffering because of it.
A man stepped forward.
Angry.
"How many more people have to disappear before we accept it?" he shouted.
Another joined him.
"My daughter is gone!"
"And my son!"
Their voices rose.
Fueled by grief.
By fear.
By blame.
"We can't keep her here," someone said.
"She's putting us all in danger!"
"Yes!" another voice cried. "If she stays, they'll find a way in!"
Nneka's chest tightened.
She stepped back.
Her hands were trembling.
"You think I want this?" she cried."You think I wanted any of this?!"
No one answered.
Because they didn't care anymore.
Her mother stepped forward suddenly.
"Enough!" she shouted.
The room fell silent.
"She is my child," she said, her voice shaking but strong."You will not touch her."
The man stepped closer.
"And what about our children?" he demanded.
Silence.
Her mother's expression faltered.
Just slightly.
And that was enough.
"You see?" the man said.You can't protect her and us at the same time.
The words hung in the air.
Cruel.
True.
The elder stepped forward slowly.
"We must make a decision."
Nneka's heart pounded.
"What decision?" she whispered.
The elder didn't look away.
"If she stays…"
A pause.
"We all die."
Her breath stopped.
"And if she leaves?" her mother asked.
The elder's voice dropped.
"Then we might survive."
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Nneka felt it.
The shift.
The moment everything changed.
They had chosen.
Her chest tightened painfully.
"You want me to go…" she said softly.
No one answered.
Because they didn't need to.
Her mother shook her head violently.
"No! She's not going anywhere!"
But even her voice—
It wasn't strong enough.
Nneka looked around.
At the people she had grown up with.
At the faces she had known her whole life.
And all she saw now—
Was fear.
"I understand," she whispered.
Her mother turned to her.
"No—Nneka, don't say that—"
But Nneka gently pulled away.
"If I stay… they'll never stop coming."
Her voice trembled.
"And more people will disappear."
Tears filled her mother's eyes.
"You're just a child…"
Nneka shook her head slowly.
"No…"
A pause.
"I stopped being just a child the night I heard them."
The elder stepped forward.
"You must leave before sunrise," he said quietly.
Nneka nodded.
She didn't argue.
She didn't fight.
Because deep down—
She knew.
This place was never going to be her home again.
That night—
She sat alone in the corner of the shrine.
The voices are still whispering.
Still calling.
But softer now.
Almost… pleased.
"You see?" a voice murmured inside her.
"Even they know what you are."
Nneka closed her eyes.
"I'm not like you…"
A soft laugh echoed.
"You will be."
She hugged her knees tightly.
Trying to stay grounded.
Trying to stay herself.
But something inside her—
Was changing.
Slowly.
Quietly.
Just before dawn—
As everyone else slept—
Nneka stood.
She was drawn by an inexplicable force.
She walked to the entrance of the shrine.
And stopped.
Because standing just outside—
Was Obasi.
Waiting.
Smiling.
"They chose."
A pause.
"Now it's your turn."